"
Once again the priest's eyes glanced towards the lighted candles.
[Illustration]
VI
Presently he said: "You asked me if I had heard anything of your wife.
Listen, and be patient while you listen.... Three weeks ago I was
camping on the Sundust Plains, over against the Young Sky River. In the
morning, as I was lighting a fire outside my tent, my young Cree Indian
with me, I saw coming over the crest of a landwave, from the very lips
of the sunrise, as it were, a band of Indians. I could not quite make
them out. I hoisted my little flag on the tent, and they hurried on to
me. I did not know the tribe--they had come from near Hudson's Bay. They
spoke Chinook, and I could understand them. Well, as they came near, I
saw that they had a woman with them."
Bagot leaned forward, his body strained, every muscle tense. "A woman!"
he said, as if breathing gave him sorrow--"my wife?"
"Your wife."
"Quick! Quick! Go on--oh, go on, m'sieu'--good father."
"She fell at my feet, begging me to save her.... I waved her off."
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.
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