“The rest is short ‘nough.  It seems he an’ ol’ Koleta, an’ a young Cheyenne buck, had been hangin’ ’round across the river from Dodge fer quite a while waitin’ fer Le Fevre to pull off some sorter stunt.  Maybe I did n’t get just the straight o’ it, but anyhow they held up a paymaster, er something like that, fer a big boodle.  They expected to do it quiet like, hold the off’cer a day er so out in the desert, an’ then turn him loose to howl.  But them plans did n’t just exactly work.  The fellow’s daughter was with him, when the pinch was made, an’ they hed to take her ‘long too.  Then the officer man got ugly, an’ had to be shot, an’ Le Fevre quarrelled with the other white man in the outfit, an’ killed him.  That left the gal on their hands, an’ them all in a hell of a fix if they wus ever caught.  The young Injuns wanted to kill the gal too, an’ shet her mouth, but somehow Le Fevre an’ Koleta would n’t hear to it—­said she ‘d be worth more alive than dead, an’ that they could hide her whar she ’d never be heard of ag’in unless her friends put up money to buy her back.”

Hamlin was leaning forward, watching the speaker intently, and it seemed to him his heart had stopped beating.  This story had the semblance of truth; it was the truth.  So Dupont and Le Fevre were one and the same.  He could believe this now, could perceive the resemblance, although the man had grown older, taken on flesh, and disguised himself wonderfully by growing that black beard.  Yet, at the moment, he scarcely considered the man at all; his whole interest concentrated on the fate of the unfortunate girl.

“Where were they taking her, Hughes—­do you know?”

“Wa’n’t but one place fer ’em to take her—­the Cheyennes hev got winter camp down yonder on the Canadian—­Black Kettle’s outfit.  Onc’t thar, all hell could n’t pry her loose.”

“And Le Fevre dared go there?  Among those hostiles?”

“Him!” Hughes laughed scornfully.  “Why, he’s hand in glove with the whole bunch.  He’s raided with ’em, decked out in feathers an’ war-paint.”

The Sergeant thought rapidly and leaped to a sudden conclusion.

“And you were trying to kill him when you shot us up?”

“Thet wus the idea, stranger; if I got a friend o’ yourn, I ’m powerful sorry.”

CHAPTER XXVIII

SNOWBOUND

The gleam in Hamlin’s eyes impelled the other to go on, and explain fully.

“Lord, I know how yer feel, stranger, an’, I reckon, if yer was to plug me right yere it would n’t more ’n even matters up.  But yer listen furst afore yer shoot.  Thet Kiowa Black Smoke was sent on ahead, an’ got yere afore the storm.  He said them others wus ’bout four hours behind, an’ headin’ fer this yere cabin to make camp.  They wa’n’t hurryin’ none, fer they did n’t suspect they wus bein’ tracked.  Well, thet was my chance; what I ‘d been campin’ out yere months a-waitin’ fer.  I did n’t expect ter git nuthin’ back, y’ understand; all I wanted was ter kill that damn skunk, an’ squar accounts.  It looked ter me then like I hed him on the hip.  He did n’t know I was in the kintry; all I hed to do was lay out in the hills, an’ take a pot-shot at him afore he saw me.”