'Twas written in pencil. He had no ink in the place, and he
had no books wid him. He tore the sheet of paper and give us each
half, wid the writing on it; his horses got stole and he had to
camp there. He stayed round wid Pike and the blacks till he died."
"And where is the certificate? Have you lost it?"
"I sint mine down to Mick to keep for me--jist a bit of paper
written in pencil it was--and it got lost some ways; but I have a
copy of it I med at the time."
"Where is the copy now?"
"At Mick's place."
"You must tell Mick to bring it in. Now where is this place, Pike's?"
"Out this side of the opal-fields. It's wild and rough now, but
what it was then--well 'twas more like a black's camp nor a white
man's place at all."
Blake thought the story had gone far enough. He did not believe
a word of it. "Look here, Peggy," he said, "You have given the
place, the date, the name of the parson, and everything. Now you
know that if you are telling a lie it will be easily found out.
They will soon find out if there was such a missionary, and if he
was up there at the time, and if Mr. Grant was up there; and if
you are caught out in a lie it may go hard with you. Have you any
witnesses?"
"Martin Doyle was there, Black Martin's son."
"What! Martin Doyle that's out at the nine-mile?"
"Yis.
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