nd sulkily Pritchen stepped forward
and faced the Indian girl.

"Thar, that's better. Now go ahead," continued Pete, turning to Jennie.

The latter, however, did not speak, but stood staring at Pritchen, as a
bird fascinated by a serpent.

"De' ye know that man?" demanded the prospector, seeing her
embarrassment.

"Yes. Me know 'um," came the low reply.

"Whar did ye fust see 'im?"

"Heem bad man; bad heart. Heem keel my modder long tam ago."

"It's a lie!" shouted Pritchen.

"Jennie no lie. Me see 'um."

A movement among the miners was quieted by Pete's next question.

"Gal, did ye see that man put the bags of gold in the missionary's
cabin? Tell me that."

"Yes. Me see 'um."

"How did you see 'im do it?"

"Jennie see in windee. Heem look all around. Heem see box. Heem take
wan poke, heem take two poke, all same dis," and the girl drew her hand
twice from beneath her shawl, and stooped to the ground to show how it
had been done.

"You lie!" snarled Pritchen. But it was easy to see from his pallid
face that the girl's words were having their effect.

"Jennie no lie!" and the maiden, with fear all gone and an indignant
mien, looked unwaveringly into the villain's eyes. "Me tell true. Me
Clistin. Me no lie! You laugh at peegee in box. You put down cover
lak dat," and she slapped her hands together. "You lock box. You trow
key in stove. You laugh, bad, ugh!"

During this disclosure Pritchen had stood with his eyes fixed upon the
ground, to all outward appearance abashed and confounded. But such was
not the case. He was thinking hard and fast, while from the corner of
his left eye he beheld a sight which filled him with a new
determination. He was a desperate man, in a desperate position, and
though hope had fled his heart, the spirit of revenge rankled deep. He
had played his game and lost, but at any rate he would leave a mark
which would be felt.

Scarcely had Jennie finished speaking, when, quick as thought, he
leaped towards the pile of rifles lying on the ground, and seizing one
turned fiercely upon Old Pete. The rifle was raised, his finger
pressed the trigger, and the report rang out. Instead, however, of the
ball touching the prospector, it bored its way into the earth, while
the rifle flew from Pritchen's grasp, and a dozen hands were laid
roughly upon him. He struggled, fought, and tore like a wildcat, but
all to no avail. The blood in the miners' veins ran fire.