He paused, his eyes filled with memories, and passed his hand through
his uncovered hair.
"About that time I fell foul of Murphy and Slavin there in Glencaid,"
he went on quickly, as if anxious to conclude. "I never got my eyes on
Murphy, you know, and Slavin was so changed by that big red beard that
I failed to recognize him. But their actions aroused my suspicions,
and I went after them good and hard. I wanted to find out what they
knew, and why those lies were told on Nolan at the trial. I had an
idea they could tell me. So, for a starter, I tackled Slavin,
supposing we were alone, and I was pumping the facts out of him
successfully by holding a gun under his nose, and occasionally jogging
his memory, when this fellow Murphy got excited, and chasséed into
the game, but happened to nip his partner instead of me. In the course
of our little scuffle I chanced to catch a glimpse of the fellow's
right hand, and it had a scar on the back of it that looked mighty
familiar. I had seen it before, and I wanted to see it again. So,
when I got out of that scrape, and the doctor had dug a stray bullet
out of my anatomy, there did n't seem to be any one left for me to
chase excepting Murphy, for Slavin was dead. I was n't exactly sure he
was the owner of that scar, but I had my suspicions and wanted to
verify them. Having struck his trail, I reached Cheyenne just about
four hours after he left there with these despatches for the Big Horn.
I caught up with the fellow on the south bank of the Belle Fourche, and
being well aware that no threats or gun play would ever force him to
confess the truth, I undertook to frighten him by trickery. I brought
along some drawing-paper and drew your father's picture in phosphorus,
and gave him the benefit in the dark. That caught Murphy all right,
and everything was coming my way. He threw up his hands, and even
agreed to come in here with me, and tell the whole story, but the poor
fellow's brain could n't stand the strain of the scare I had given him.
He went raving mad on the Powder; he jumped on me while I was asleep,
and since then every mile has been a little hell. That's the whole of
it to date."
They were up with the pack-train by now, and the cavalrymen gazed with
interest at the new arrivals. Several among them seemed to recognize
Murphy, and crowded about his horse with rough expressions of sympathy.
Brant scarcely glanced at them, his grave eyes on Hampton's stern face.