Max Brand

Riders of the Silences Max Brand

It seemed that Father Anthony gathered all the warmth of the short northernsummer and kept it for winter use, for his good nature was an actual physical force. From his ruddy face beamed such a kindliness that people reached out toward himas they might extend their hands toward a comfortable fire. All the labors of his work as an inspector of Jesuit institutions across the length andbreadth of Canada could not lessen the good father's enthusiasm; his smile was asindefatigable as his critical eyes. The one looked sharply into every corner of aroom and every nook and hidden cranny of thoughts and deeds; the other veiledthe criticism and soothed the wounds of vanity. On this day, however, the sharp eyes grew a little less keen and somewhat wider, while that smile was fixed rather by habit than inclination. In fact, his expressionmight be called a frozen kindliness as he looked across the table to Father Victor. It required a most indomitable geniality, indeed, to outface the rigid piety of JeanPaul Victor. His missionary work had carried him far north, where the cold burnsmen thin. The zeal which drove him north and north and north over untrackedregions, drove him until his body failed, drove him even now, though his body wascrippled