"They came with the mission supplies," was the response. "For years they have been gathering there, and not long ago I was tempted to have a big bonfire, and burn the oldest ones, as they were taking up so much room. But now I'm glad I didn't."

"So am I," a.s.sented Joe. "But say," he continued, looking round the room, "what's all that stuff for?"

"Oh, they're mission supplies for the Indians."

"And you sell the stuff?"

"Yes."

"Oh, then, that's what Pritchen and Perdue meant. I didn't understand them at the time."

"Why, what did they say?" asked Keith.

"They said a lot; told what a grafter you are, that you supply the Indians with all sorts of things, take their furs in return, and are making a fortune out of them, all under the cloak of religion."

"And did they say that?" The missionary's tone was one of astonishment, and an expression of pain crossed his face.

"Yes, but that's only a part of the stories. They're stirring up the boys against you with all kinds of yarns."

"And what else did they say? Tell me, Joe."

The latter looked cautiously around, and in a low tone whispered something into Keith's ear, which caused him to start back as if from a blow.

"G.o.d help me!" he cried, placing his hands to his forehead. "Is it possible! Is it possible!"

"Yes, Pritchen told it over and over again, so I heard last night.

Then he said that you killed the woman in a lonely place."

"Killed her! That I killed her?"

"Yes, and when he happened along and interfered, you struck at him with a knife, and made the terrible scar on his breast which he showed the boys."

"The brute! The brute!"

"You remember the night you pinned him over the bar, and were just going to smash his face when you saw the scar which startled you so much?"

"Yes, I remember it only too well."

"Well, he's making a mighty lot out of that, and the hard part is so many of the boys believe him."

"Joe," said Keith, "it's cold here," and he shivered. "Let us take some of these magazines in our arms and go back to the Indian school room. It's warm there, and I want to tell you something."

"Now, sit down," he said, when they had reached the place, "and listen to what I have to say, that you may know the truth.

"When I came here ten years ago the Indians were in a wretched condition of semi-starvation. They sold their skins to a fur-trading company, which sent a boat up stream for the very purpose. For valuable furs they received cheap, gaudy dress material, useless toys, and many other things they didn't need. They were being robbed right along. After a while I induced them to give up this ruinous barter, and deal with a more honest company, which agreed to send up a small steamer twice a year, in the Spring and Fall. Now the Indians have their own store, and keep those goods you saw on hand. I have never made a cent out of the business, for the natives get everything. Once a year they appoint one of their number to keep the store, and the lot has fallen time and again to Amos, who is paid by the Indians for his work.

"When a native brings in, say, a fox skin, he receives its value according to the previous year's rate. If he needs tea and sugar he is charged the same amount as was paid to the company---not a cent more.

When that fox skin is sold, if it brings more the Indian is credited with the amount, but, if less, it is deducted. We have a simple yet splendid system of accounts, which has taken years to perfect. At the end of the year every Indian is given a statement of how he stands, and so far there has been very little complaining.

"When an Indian does not wish to take up the full value of his furs in goods at one time, he is given a number of large beads, their standard of wealth, which he keeps on a stout string. Some of the natives have saved up quite an amount in this way, and in times of sickness, or during a bad hunting season, are not dependent on others.

"Then each Indian gives a portion of what he earns for the relief of the needy, sick, and the aged, besides contributing something every year to our Missionary Society. They are delighted with the whole plan, and, while I oversee the business, I get nothing. Any one who cares to do so may examine our system, and learn how straight it is. I know very well that Perdue longs to get control of this trade, and in fact did induce a number to buy from him. But that has been all stopped since my return, and so he is very spiteful. You may tell any one you like the whole truth, and how the Indians have been helped by the system."

"I shall," replied Joe, and the look upon his face revealed his sincerity.

"As to the next," continued Keith, "I shall be brief. No greater lie has ever been fabricated against a human being than that. Pritchen himself is the guilty one, and tries to shuffle the blame on me. Years ago he was a squaw-man, among a tribe away to the North of us. I visited that band, and one day on a lonely trail found that brute who had fatally injured his Indian wife, and her babe at the breast.

Before she died, however, she left that scar upon him with the point of a keen knife. The woman told me all just before her death, and gave in my charge her only living child, a bright-eyed girl, who is now at Kla.s.san, and remembers it all."

"What! the girl here?" asked Joe in surprise.

"Yes, and it is all that we can do to prevent her from avenging her mother's death."

"Does Pritchen know she's here?"

"No, I think not. But the girl has been following him like a shadow, and watching his every movement, without as yet doing anything more.

She is rather strange of late, and we cannot understand her moods."

"But why does Pritchen fear you?"

"He knows me of old, and hates me for a number of reasons. But it's not me he fears, but the Indians. He's a bully and a coward, and has a great fear of death, with good reason, too. He is very shrewd, and knows if he lays hands on me the Indians will tear him to pieces."

"Do the Indians know about him, and the deed he committed?" asked Joe.

"Only the girl and Amos, the catechist. The former for some cause has never spoken to the rest, and I told the latter, but he is silent for the same reason that I am."

"What's that?"

"The Indians are very impulsive, and if they knew that this man had committed such a deed upon a helpless woman, and one of their own race, too, I might not be able to restrain them. They are also feeling sore over the contemptible trick Pritchen imposed upon them the day I returned, and it would take very little to cause a complete outburst.

They never forget an injury or a kindness. As it is, they will spend so much time out in the hills talking about that trick that I'm afraid their hunting will suffer."

"But what are you going to do?" inquired Joe.

"Try to do my duty, and hold out till Spring. Then if he becomes too offensive, and I see our mission will suffer, I shall hold a Council of the leading Indians about the matter."

Joe leaned eagerly forward with an anxious look upon his face. "Say, parson, I wouldn't wait till Spring if I were in your shoes. You'll need their help before that."

"How do you know?"

"Pritchen will work through the miners. He'll not touch you himself, that is quite evident, but he'll cut at you in some other way. I've heard him talk; and you have no idea how he's poisoning the men's minds."

"Never fear," returned Keith. "We're in the Great Master's keeping, and He will look after us. But come, let us get something to eat. We have talked too long already, though it has been a comfort to unburden my mind. After our bite we must get this room ready for the men to-night."

"And I'll round up as many as I can," replied Joe, as they set out for the mission house.

CHAPTER XIII