frighten sich a sweet lamb? But never mind, Pete is here, an'
he'll look inter this bizness later."

When Constance opened her eyes she found herself lying in her own home,
with her father and old Pete standing anxiously by the couch. She
tried to rise, but, feeling rather unsteady, was glad to lie down again.

"What has happened?" she asked, "or have I been dreaming? Where is
that terrible man?"

"Hush, darling," replied her father soothingly. "Lie still and rest
awhile, and you will soon be strong."

"Ye've been dreamin', lassie," said Pete, delighted to know that
Constance was recovering. "Ye've had bad visions, an' so fergot yer
supper. It's all ready, an' yer dad's been waitin' fer ye to wake up
fer some time."

Constance found it very pleasant to be there, weak though she was,
listening to the old man's words, and to feel so secure.

"Please tell me how I got here," she asked, looking up at the
prospector. "I think you had much to do with my rescue."

"Tut, tut, lassie, never ye mind that now. Drink this hot tea, an' eat
this cracker, then we'll tell ye all about it."

While Constance obeyed this injunction, her father and Pete ate their
supper at the little table near by. The latter was hungry, very
hungry, as it had been hours since he had tasted any food. He asked no
question, and seemed to be the most free-from-care fellow in the world.
In his quaint way he told stories of his frontier life, till Constance
found herself alternately weeping and laughing at his tales of pathos
and humour. But if any one could have looked below the mere surface of
words, he would have seen how anxious Pete was to hear the whole story
of the night, and how the missionary was getting along. Not, however,
till the colour had been somewhat restored to Constance's cheeks, the
dishes cleared away, and the men seated by the couch, was the tale of
adventure related. Then followed the account of Keith's troubles, his
trial, and expulsion. Mr. Radhurst told of the latter, as Constance
found herself unequal to the task so painful was the memory of it all.

Pete sat on the stool drinking in every word, with his eyes fixed full
upon the face of the narrator. At times his huge frame trembled with
emotion, and a groan escaped his lips. It was only when Mr. Radhurst
had finished that he leaped to his feet and gave vent to his pent-up
feelings.

"Oh, God!" he cried, shaking his fist in the direction of the saloon.
"Let