"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.