e slung another at 'im.
It wasn't a trial, miss, it was jist a bunch of sarpents hissin' all
the time."

"And did Mr. Steadman seem frightened when they wanted to open the
chest?" queried Constance, in surprise.

"I heerd so."

"But why?"

"On account of the picter."

"The picture?"

"Yes. Tim Slater, he was thar, ye know, says 'twas an uncommon fine
'un, lyin' right atop the chist."

"But why should the picture frighten him?"

"He wasn't altogether frightened, miss. Ye can't frighten 'im. He
only got a little white around the gills, so Tim says. Ye see, 'twas a
woman's picter, all fixed up on that kind of paper them artist chaps
use, an' done with a pencil. 'Twas mighty fine, so Tim says, an' I
guess he knows."

Constance made no reply to these words. "A picture!" she mused, "and a
woman's!" Anxious though she was to hear more about the trial, her
thoughts wandered. She longed with womanly curiosity to know about
that picture. Was it a young face, pretty, and whether the missionary
had explained whose it was? Something, however, restrained her. She
did not dare to ask, lest she should betray the note of eagerness in
her voice, and she was sure her face would flush even if she mentioned
it.

"But it wasn't the only charge they brung agin the parson," continued
Sol. "They raked up all sorts of stuff. It was certainly wonnerful."

"What else did they say?" questioned Mr. Radhurst.

"They said, or at least Pritchen did, that he killed an Injun woman
some years back."

"What!"

"Yes, that's what he said. But, my, you should have seed the parson
then. He was jist like a tager, an' I never heerd a man say sich
cuttin' things in all my life. He jist went fer Pritchen an' opened up
a page in his history which 'ud make ye creep. He told sartin an'
clear that the villain himself was the one who killed the woman. An',
says he:

"'Thar's a gal in this town who was thar as a wee child. She seed it
all. She seen her mother killed afore her very eyes. Bring her here,'
says he, 'an' she'll tell yez what a liar this man is.'"

"And what did they do?" asked Constance almost breathlessly.

"Jist laughed at 'im."

"The brutes!"

"'Bring her!' he cries; 'she's in Klassan. If yez are men, ye'll do
what's fair. Her name is Yukon Jennie, an' she'll tell yez all."

"This appeal kinder touched some of 'em, an' they axed fer the gal,
though I saw that Pritchen was mighty oneasy. So we waited ti