e crowd. "I call you all to witness! That is the man who
killed John Borg!"

No laughter greeted this, for there was a terrible earnestness in his
manner. Bill Brown and the chairman tried to make the Indian talk, but
could not. A miner from British Columbia was pressed into service, but
his Chinook made no impression. Then La Flitche was called. The
handsome breed bent over the man and talked in gutturals which only his
mother's heredity made possible. It sounded all one, yet it was
apparent that he was trying many tongues. But no response did he draw,
and he paused disheartened. As though with sudden recollection, he
made another attempt. At once a gleam of intelligence shot across the
Indian's face, and his larynx vibrated to similar sounds.

"It is the Stick talk of the Upper White," La Flitche stopped long
enough to explain.

Then, with knit brows and stumbling moments when he sought
dim-remembered words, he plied the man with questions. To the rest it
was like a pantomime,--the meaningless grunts and waving arms and
facial expressions of puzzlement, surprise, and understanding. At
times a passion wrote itself on the face of the Indian, and a sympathy
on the face of La Flitche. Again, by look and gesture, St. Vincent was
referred to, and once a sober, mirthless laugh shaped the mouths of
them.

"So? It is good," La Flitche said, when the Indian's head dropped
back. "This man make true talk. He come from White River, way up. He
cannot understand. He surprised very much, so many white men. He
never think so many white men in the world. He die soon. His name Gow.

"Long time ago, three year, this man John Borg go to this man Gow's
country. He hunt, he bring plenty meat to the camp, wherefore White
River Sticks like him. Gow have one squaw, Pisk-ku. Bime-by John Borg
make preparation to go 'way. He go to Gow, and he say, 'Give me your
squaw. We trade. For her I give you many things.' But Gow say no.
Pisk-ku good squaw. No woman sew moccasin like she. She tan
moose-skin the best, and make the softest leather. He like Pisk-ku.
Then John Borg say he don't care; he want Pisk-ku. Then they have a
_skookum_ big fight, and Pisk-ku go 'way with John Borg. She no want
to go 'way, but she go anyway. Borg call her 'Bella,' and give her
plenty good things, but she like Gow all the time." La Flitche pointed
to the scar which ran down the forehead and past the eye of the Indian.
"John Borg he