“And get the girl and the money.”

“As God is my witness, I never thought ’bout thet.  I jest wanted ter plug him.  I know it sounds sorter cowardly, but that fellow ’s a gun-fighter, an’ he hed two Injuns with him.  Anyhow that wus my notion, an’ as soon as Black Smoke went lopin’ up the valley, I loaded up, an’ climbed them bluffs, to whar I hed a good look-out erlong the north trail.  I laid out thar all night.  The storm come up, an’ I mighty nigh froze, but snuggled down inter ther snow an’ stuck.  When yer onc’t get a killin’ freak on, yer goin’ through hell an’ high water ter get yer man.  Thet’s how I felt.  Well, just ’long ’bout daylight an outfit showed up.  With my eyes half froze over, an’ ther storm blowin’ the snow in my face, I could n’t see much—­nuthin’ but outlines o’ hosses an’ men.  But thar was four o’ ’em, an’ a big fellow ahead breakin’ trail.  Course I thought it was Le Fevre; I wa’n’t lookin’ fer no one else, an’ soon as I dared, I let drive.  He flopped over dead as a door nail, an’ then I popped away a couple o’ times at the others.  One fell down, an’ I thought I got him, but did n’t wait to make sure; just turned and hoofed it fer cover, knowin’ the storm would hide my trail.  I ‘d got the man I went after, an’ just natch’ally did n’t give er whoop what become o’ the rest.  As I went down the bank I heard ’em shootin’ so I knowed some wus alive yet an’ it would be better fer me to crawl inter my hole an’ lie still.”

Hamlin sat motionless, staring at the man, not quite able to comprehend his character.  Killing was part of the western code, and he could appreciate Hughes’ eagerness for revenge, but the underlying cowardice in the man was almost bewildering.  Finally he got up, swept the revolver on the bench into his pocket, walked over, and picked up the gun.

“Now, Hughes,” he said quietly.  “I’ll talk, and you listen.  In my judgment you are a miserable sneaking cur, and I am going to trust you just so far as I can watch you.  I suppose I ought to shoot you where you are, and have done with it.  You killed one of the best men who ever lived, a friend of mine, Sam Wasson—­”

“Who?”

“Sam Wasson, a government scout.”

Hughes dropped his face into his hands.

“Good Lord!  I knew him!”

The Sergeant drew a deep breath, and into his face there came a look almost of sympathy.

“Then you begin to realize the sort of fool you are,” he went on soberly.  “They don’t make better men out here; his little finger was worth more than your whole body.  But killing you won’t bring Sam back, and besides I reckon you ‘ve told me the straight story, an’ his shooting was an accident in a way.  Then you ’re more useful to me just now alive than you would be dead.  My name is Hamlin, sergeant Seventh Cavalry, and I am here after that man Le Fevre.  We trailed his outfit from Dodge until the storm struck us, and then came straight through travelling by compass.  I did not know the man’s name was Le Fevre until you told me; up in Kansas he is known as Dupont.”