Morse turned to the girl, fastened his eyes on her steadily, and waited.
"Nae lees. I'll hae the truth," Angus added harshly.
"I did it—with my hunting-knife," the daughter said, looking straight at her father.
"What's that? Are ye talkin' havers, lass?"
"It's the truth, Father."
The Scotchman swung on the trader with a swift question, at the end of it a threat. "Why would she do that? Why? If you said one word to my lass—"
"No, Father. You don't understand. I found a camp of whiskey-traders, and I stole up and smashed four-five kegs. I meant to slip away, but this man caught me. When he rushed at me I was afraid—so I slashed at him with my knife. We fought."
"You fought," her father repeated.
"He didn't know I was a girl—not at first."
The buffalo-hunter passed that point. "You went to this trader's camp and ruined his goods?"