"Ay, it's true, man, what ye say. I ain't been here long, but long enough to find out a few things, 'specially 'bout that fine lassie up yon."
"Why, what about her?" asked several.
"What! didn't ye hear?"
"Hear what?"
"'Bout the chap that caught her on the trail last night, an' scart her so that she fainted dead away."
At this, several men who were sitting on benches sprang to their feet, and angry oaths rang through the room.
"Who was it?" they demanded. "Tell us more about it! We're bad men, God knows, but we've a little manhood left. Tell us his name!"
"Don't git excited, now," replied Pete. "Jist keep cool, an' don't do nothin' rash, or ye may be sorry fer it."
Then in his quaint way he told the story of his trip from Siwash Creek, the cry in the night, the attack of the dog, escape of the villain, and the finding Constance lying unconscious on the trail. Pete related his story well, while many a muttered oath burst from the men during the recital.
"Do you know his name?" came the cry.