surrender the third. Two lives for two lives was their notion of equal
justice. But as soon as the ship was out of sight, the murderer left
his tribe, went to Metlakahtla, and gave himself up to Mr. Duncan.
"Whatever you tell me to do," he said, "I will do. If you say I am to
go on board the gun-ship when she comes again, I will go." Six months
afterwards the "Devastation" again came up to Metlakahtla, and fired a
gun to announce her arrival. The murderer heard it. Had his resolution
broken down after so long an interval? He went straight to Mr. Duncan,
and said, "What am I to do?" "You must come with me a prisoner." He
went on board with the missionary, and delivered himself to the
captain. "Thus," justly observed Bishop Hills, "what the ship of war
with its guns and threats could not do for civilization, for protection
of life, for justice, the simple character and influence of one
missionary availed to accomplish." In due course this man was brought
to trial for his crime, when it came out that he had been an unwilling
participator, and he was pardoned. On his release he went back to
Metlakahtla, and was baptized by the Bishop in 1866.

A similar and very interesting case occurred in 1872. Some years
before, an Indian from a tribe living thirty miles off had come to Mr.
Duncan, and with great emotion confessed himself a murderer, saying
that having frequently attended the services, the burden of sin had
become "too heavy for him to carry," and some Christian relatives had
advised him to confess his crime and take the consequences. Mr. Duncan
sent word to the Government at Victoria, but they thought it best not
to prosecute the man for a crime which was not recent, and which had
been done under the orders of a powerful chief who was still at large.
No further steps, therefore, were taken. But at the beginning of 1872,
a magistrate who was visiting at Fort Simpson detected two men who had
been concerned in another murder, and the excitement caused by this led