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 land-wave, 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 humour, I asked him where he had got the woman. He said that he had found her on the plains she had lost her way. I told him then that I wanted to buy her. He said to me, ‘What does a priest want of a woman?’ I said that I wished to give her back to her husband. He said that he had found her, and she was his, and that he would marry her when they reached the great camp of the tribe. I was patient. It would not do to make him angry. I wrote down on a piece of bark the things that I would give him for her: an order on the Company at Fort o’ Sin for shot, blankets, and beads. He said no.”
The priest paused. Bagot’s face was all swimming with sweat, his body was rigid, but the veins of his neck knotted and twisted.
“For the love of God, go on!” he said hoarsely. “Yes, ‘for the love of God.’ I have no money, I am poor, but the Company will always honour my orders, for I pay sometimes, by the help of Christ. Bien, I added some things to the list: a saddle, a rifle, and some flannel. But no, he would not. Once more I put many things down. It was a big bill—it would keep me poor for five years.—To save your wife, John Bagot, you who drove her from your door, blaspheming, and railing at such as I.... I offered the things, and told him that was all that I could give. After a little he shook his head, and said that he must have the woman for his wife. I did not know what to add. I said—‘She is white, and the white people will never rest till they have killed you all, if you do this thing. The Company will track you down.’ Then he said, ‘The whites must catch me and fight me before they kill me.’... What was there to do?”