e rock above.
The suspicious thing is, that them letters an' the ones on the poke
found in the chist are jist the same."

"Very strange," remarked Mr. Radhurst. "Do you remember the letters?"

"Yes, there were jist two, 'K. R.'"

At these words, Constance started and rose to her feet. Trembling
violently, she approached the miner. Once she put out her hand as if
for support.

"Tell me," she said in a hoarse whisper, "if you know anything more?"

Sol looked at her in amazement.

"I didn't know ye'd feel so bad, or I'd not told ye," he replied,
mistaking the cause of her agitation. "But thar isn't much more to be
said. The parson told in plain words how he'd found a sick man in the
Ibex cabin, an' cared fer 'im as well as he could. When he died he
buried 'im in the snow, an' put them marks on the rock, but about the
poke, he had never seed it afore."

"Did he tell the man's name?" asked Constance.

"No."

"No! And why not?"

"He wouldn't tell, an' that was the hardest thing agin him. Then some
one axed 'im why he didn't report the matter when he reached Klassan,
an' at that the parson lit out:

"'Tell,' says he. 'What chance had I to tell with all yez agin me,
ruinin' my Injun flock, an' playin' that mean trick upon me in sendin'
me to Siwash Crik? De yez think I'd care to tell ye?'"

"What trick?" asked Mr. Radhurst.

"What! ye never heered?"

"No, not a word."

"No? Waal, now, that's queer. It's been the talk of the camp ever
since. They made out that Jim Blasco, that divil out yon, was wounded,
an' a doctor was wanted mighty bad. So they got the parson to go, an'
sich a laughin' an' shoutin' they made over it all at his expense. I
didn't think so much about it then, but now it jist fairly makes me
bile."

"Why, Mr. Steadman never said a word to us about it when he came to
Siwash Creek," said Constance in surprise.

"Ay, is that so, miss? Waal, it's jist like 'im. Some 'ud have
blabbed the whole thing, an' made a big story outer it. But not 'im.
He's too much of a man fer that. He doesn't tell everything he knows,
an' I reckon he has some good reason fer not tellin' that chap's name
that died out in the Ibex cabin."

Constance arose, and, going to her own little curtained apartment,
brought forth a small picture.

"Mr. Burke," she said, "you have met quite a number of men in this
district, did you ever see any one who looked like that?"

Sol took the picture in his hand and