"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 humour, 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 honour my
orders, for I pay sometimes, by the help of Christ. Bien, 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 that I could give. After a little
he shook his head, and said that he must have the woman for his wife. I
did not know what to add. I said--'She is white, and the white people
will never rest till they have killed you all, if you do this thing. The
Company will track you down.' Then he said, 'The whites must catch me and