The sweat dropped from Bagot's forehead, a low growl broke from him, and
he made such a motion as a lion might make at its prey.

"You wouldn't--wouldn't save her--you coward!" He ground the words out.

The priest raised his palm against the other's violence. "Hush!... She
drew away, saying that God and man had deserted her.... We had
breakfast, the chief and I. Afterwards, when the chief had eaten much
and was in good humor, I asked him where he had got the woman. He said
that he had found her on the plains--she had lost her way. I told him
then that I wanted to buy her. He said to me. 'What does a priest want
of a woman?' I said that I wished to give her back to her husband. He
said that he had found her, and she was his, and that he would marry her
when they reached the great camp of the tribe. I was patient. It would
not do to make him angry. I wrote down on a piece of bark the things
that I would give him for her: an order on the Company at Fort o' Sin
for shot, blankets and beads. He said no."

The priest paused. Bagot's face was all swimming with sweat, his body
was rigid, but the veins of his neck knotted and twisted.

"For the love of God go on!" he said hoarsely.

"Yes, for the love of God. I have no money, I am poor, but the Company
will always honor my orders, for I pay sometimes by the help of _le bon
Jésu_. Well, I added some things to the list: a saddle, a rifle, and
some flannel. But no, he would not. Once more I put many things down. It
was a big bill--it would keep me poor for five years. To save your wife,
John Bagot, you who drove her from your door, blaspheming and railing at
such as I.... I offered the things, and told him that was all I could