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MYSTERY RANCH 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 BY 
 ARTHUR CHAPMAN 
 
 AUTHOR OP ** OUT WHERE THE WEST BEGINS," AND " CACTUS 
 
 CENTER " 
 
 ■ > > 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 
 *- 1921 
 
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 COPYRIGHT, 1921, BT DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY ARTHUR CHAPMAN 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 • ■ • • < t « 
 
 
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MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 4C9188 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 There was a swift padding of moccasined 
 feet through the hall leading to the Indian 
 agent's office. 
 
 Ordinarily Walter Lowell would not have 
 looked up from his desk. He recognized the 
 footfalls of Plenty Buffalo, his chief of In- 
 dian police, but this time there was an ab- 
 sence of the customary leisureliness in the 
 official's stride. The agent's eyes were ques- 
 tioning Plenty Buffalo before the police chief 
 had more than entered the doorway. 
 
 The Indian, a broad-shouldered, power- 
 fully built man in a blue uniform, stopped 
 at the agent's desk and saluted. Lowell 
 knew better than to ask him a question at 
 the outset. News speeds best without urg- 
 ing when an Indian tells it. The clerk who 
 acted as interpreter dropped his papers and 
 
' \ • • 
 
 < . f # 
 
 ' ' •': '•. '■' '• ,* \ 
 
 4 . Mystery ranch 
 
 : • ( ,• ■ : : : •'/ , ,■ 
 moved nearer, listening intently as Plenty 
 
 Buffalo spoke rapidly in his tribal tongue. 
 
 "A man has been murdered on the road 
 just off the reservation," announced the in- 
 terpreter. 
 
 Still the agent did not speak. 
 'I just found him," went on the police 
 chief to the clerk, who interpreted rapidly. 
 "You'd better come and look things over. ,: 
 
 "How do you know he was murdered?' 
 asked the agent, reaching for his desk tele- 
 phone. 
 
 "He was shot." 
 
 "But could n't he have shot himself?" 
 , "No. He's staked down." 
 
 Lowell straightened up suddenly, a tin- 
 gle of apprehension running through him. 
 Staked down — and on the edge of f the 
 Indian reservation! Matters were being 
 brought close home. 
 
 "Is there anything to tell who he is?' 
 
 "I did n't look around much," said Plenty 
 Buffalo. "There's an auto in the road. 
 That's what I saw first." 
 
 "Where is the body?" 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 5 
 
 "A few yards from the auto, on the 
 prairie." 
 
 The agent called the sheriff's office at 
 White Lodge, the adjoining county seat. 
 The sheriff was out, but Lowell left the nec- 
 essary information as to the location of the 
 automobile and the body. Then he put on 
 his hat, and, gathering up his gloves, mo- 
 tioned to Plenty Buffalo and the interpre- 
 ter to follow him to his automobile which 
 was 'standing in front of the agency office. 
 Plenty Buffalo's pony was left at the 
 hitching-rack, to recover from the hard 
 run it had just been given. The wooden- 
 handled quirt at the saddle had not been 
 spared by the Indian. 
 
 Flooded with June sunshine the agency 
 had never looked more attractive, from the 
 white man's standpoint. The main street 
 was wide, with a parkway in the center, 
 shaded with cottonwoods. The school build- 
 ings, dormitories, dining-hall, auditorium, 
 and several of the employees' residences 
 faced this street. The agent's house nestled 
 among trees and shrubbery on the most 
 
6 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 attractive corner. The sidewalks were wide, 
 and made of cement. There was a good 
 water system, as the faithfully irrigated 
 lawns testified. Arc lights swung from the 
 street intersections, and there were incan- 
 descents in every house. A sewer system 
 had just been completed. Indian boys and 
 girls were looking after gardens in vacant 
 lots. There were experimental ranches sur- 
 rounding the agency. In the stables and 
 enclosures were pure-bred cattle and sheep, 
 the nucleus of tribal flocks and herds of 
 better standards. 
 
 In less than four years Walter Lowell had 
 made the agency a model of its kind. He 
 had done much to interest even the older 
 Indians in agriculture. The school-children, 
 owing to a more liberal educational system, 
 had lost the customary look of apathy. The 
 agent's work had been commended in annual 
 reports from Washington. The agency had 
 been featured in newspaper and magazine 
 articles, and yet Lowell had felt that he was 
 far from accomplishing anything permanent. 
 Ancient customs and superstitions had to 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 7 
 
 be reckoned with. Smouldering fires occa- 
 sionally broke out in most alarming fashion. 
 Only recently there had been a serious im- 
 pairment of reservation morale, owing to 
 the spectacular rise of a young Indian named 
 Fire Bear, who had gathered many followers, 
 and who, with his cohorts, had proceeded to 
 dance and "make medicine' to the exclu- 
 sion of all other employment. Fire Bear's 
 defection had set many rumors afloat. 
 Timid settlers near the reservation had ex- 
 pressed fear of a general uprising, which 
 fear had been fanned by the threats and 
 boastings sent broadcast by some of Fire 
 Bear's more reckless followers. 
 
 Lowell was frankly worried as he sped 
 away from the agency with Plenty Buffalo 
 and the interpreter. Every crime, large or 
 small, which occurred near the reservation, 
 and which did not carry its own solution, 
 was laid to Indians. Here was something 
 which pointed directly to Indian handi- 
 work, and Lowell in imagination could hear 
 a great outcry going up. 
 
 Plenty Buffalo gave little more informa- 
 
8 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 tion as the car swayed along the road that 
 led off the reservation. 
 
 "He says he was off the reservation trail- 
 ing Jim McFann," remarked the interpreter. 
 "He thought Jim was going along the road 
 to Talpers 's store, but Plenty Buffalo was 
 mistaken. He did not find Jim, but what 
 he did find was this man who had been 
 killed." 
 
 "Jim McFann is n't a bad fellow at heart, 
 but this bootlegging and trailing around 
 with Bill Talpers will get him in trouble 
 yet," replied the agent. " He 's pretty clever, 
 or Plenty Buffalo's men would have caught 
 him long before this." 
 
 1 They were approaching Talpers 's store as 
 the agent spoke. The store was a barn-like 
 building, with a row of poplars at the north, 
 and a big cottonwood in front. A few houses 
 were clustered about. Bill Talpers, store- 
 keeper and postmaster, looked out of the 
 door as the automobile went past. Generally 
 there were Indians sitting in front of the 
 store, but to-day there were none. Plenty 
 Buffalo volunteered the information that 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 9 
 
 there had been a "big sing' on a distant 
 part of the reservation which had attracted 
 most of the residents from this neighbor- 
 hood. Talpers was seen running out to his 
 horse, which stood in front of the store. 
 
 "He'll be along pretty soon," said the 
 agent. "He knows there's something un- 
 usual going on." 
 
 The road over which the party was travel- 
 ing was sometimes called the Dollar Sign, 
 for the reason that it wound across the res- 
 ervation line like a letter c After leaving 
 White Lodge, which was of Jie reservation, 
 any traveler on the road crossed the line and 
 soon went through the agency. Then there 
 was a curve which took him across the line 
 again to Talpers 's, after which a reverse 
 curve swept back into the Indians' domain. 
 All of which was the cause of no little trouble 
 to the agent and the Indian police, for boot- 
 leggers found it easy to operate from White 
 Lodge or Talpers 's and drop back again 
 across the line to safety. 
 
 Another ten miles, on the sweep of the 
 road toward the reservation, and the auto- 
 
io MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 mobile was sighted. The body was found, 
 as Plenty Buffalo had described it. The man 
 had been murdered — that much was plain 
 enough. 
 
 "Buckshot, from a sawed-off shotgun 
 probably," said the agent, shuddering. 
 
 Whoever had fired the shot had done his 
 work with deadly accuracy. Part of the 
 man's face had been carried away. He had 
 been well along in years, as his gray hair 
 indicated, but his frame was sturdy. He 
 was dressed in khaki — a garb much af- 
 fected by transcontinental automobile tour- 
 ists. The car which he had been driving was 
 big and expensive. 
 
 Other details were forgotten for the mo- 
 ment in the fact that the man had been 
 staked to the prairie. Ropes had been at- 
 tached to his hands and feet. These ropes 
 were fastened to tent-stakes driven into the 
 prairie. 
 
 "The man had been camping along the 
 route," said the agent, "and whoever did 
 this shooting probably used the victim's 
 own tent-stakes." 
 
MYSTERY RANCH n 
 
 This opinion was confirmed after a mo- 
 mentary examination of the tonneau of the 
 car, which disclosed a tent, duffle-bag, and 
 other camping equipment. 
 
 "Look around the prairie and see if you 
 can find any of this man's belongings scat- 
 tered about," said Lowell. 
 
 "Plenty Buffalo wants to know if you 
 noticed all the pony tracks," said the in- 
 terpreter. 
 
 "Yes," replied Lowell bitterly. "I could 
 n't very well help seeing them. What does 
 Plenty Buffalo think about them?" 
 
 "They're Indian pony tracks — no doubt 
 about that," said the interpreter, "but there 
 is no telling just when they were made.' 3 
 
 "I see. It might have been at the time 
 of the murder, or afterward." 
 
 Lowell looked closely at the pony tracks, 
 which were thick about the automobile and 
 the body. Plainly there had been a consider- 
 able body of horsemen on the scene. Plenty 
 Buffalo, skilled in trailing, had not hesi- 
 tated to announce that the tracks were those 
 of Indian ponies. If more evidence were 
 
\i MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 needed, there were the imprints of mocca- 
 sined feet in the dust. 
 
 Lowell surveyed the scene while Plenty 
 Buffalo and the interpreter searched the 
 prairie for more clues. The agent did not 
 want to disturb the body nor search the 
 automobile until the arrival of the sheriff, as 
 the murder had happened outside of Gov- 
 ernment jurisdiction, and the local authori- 
 ties were jealous of their rights. The murder 
 had been done close to the brow of a low 
 hill. The gently rolling prairie stretched to 
 a creek on one side, and to interminable dis- 
 tance on the other. There was a carpet of 
 green grass in both directions, dotted with 
 clumps of sagebrush. It had rained a few 
 days before — the last rain of many, it 
 chanced — and there were damp spots in 
 the road in places and the grass and the sage 
 were fresh in color. Meadow-larks were 
 trilling, and the whole scene was one of 
 peace — provided the beholder could blot 
 out the memory of the tenantless clay 
 stretched out upon clay. 
 
 In a few minutes Sheriff Tom Redmond 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 13 
 
 and a deputy arrived in an automobile from 
 White Lodge. They were followed by Bill 
 Talpers, in the saddle. 
 
 Redmond was a tall, square-shouldered 
 cattleman, who still clung to the rough garb 
 and high-heeled boots of the cowpuncher, 
 though he seldom used any means of travel 
 but the automobile. Western winds, heated 
 by fiery Western suns, had burned his face 
 to the color of saddle-leather. His eyebrows 
 were shaggy and light-colored, and Nature's 
 bleaching elements had reduced a straw- 
 colored mustache to a discouraging non- 
 descript tone. 
 
 " Looks like an Injun job, Lowell, don't 
 it?" asked Redmond, as his sharp eyes took 
 in the situation in darting glances. 
 
 "Is n't it a little early to come to that con- 
 clusion?" queried the agent. 
 
 "There ain't no other conclusion to come 
 to," broke in Talpers, who had joined the 
 group in an inspection of the scene. "Look 
 at them pony tracks — all Injun.' 3 
 
 Talpers was broad — almost squat of 
 figure. His complexion was brick red. He 
 
i 4 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 had a thin, curling black beard and mus- 
 tache. He was one of the men to whom al- 
 kali is a constant poison, and his lips were 
 always cracked and bleeding. His voice was 
 husky and disagreeable, his small eyes be- 
 spoke the brute in him, and yet he was not 
 without certain qualities of leadership which 
 seemed to appeal particularly to the Indi- 
 ans. His store was headquarters for the 
 rough and idle element of the reservation. 
 Also it was the center of considerable white 
 trade, for it was the only store for miles 
 in either direction, and in addition was the 
 general post-office. 
 
 Knowing of Talpers's friendliness for the 
 rebellious element among the Indians, Low- 
 ell looked at the trader in surprise. 
 
 "You didn't see any Indians doing this, 
 did you, Talpers?" he asked. 
 
 The trader hastened to qualify his re- 
 mark, as it would not do to have the word 
 get out among the Indians that he had 
 attempted to throw the blame on them. 
 
 "No — I ain't exactly sayin' that Injuns 
 done it," said the trader, "but I ain't ever 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 15 
 
 seen more signs pointin' in one direction." 
 
 ''Well, don't let signs get you so far off 
 the right trail that you can't get back 
 again," replied the agent, turning to help 
 Tom Redmond and his deputy in the work 
 of establishing the identity of the slain 
 man. 
 
 It was work that did not take long. Pa- 
 pers were found in the pockets indicating 
 that the victim was Edward B. Sargent, of 
 St. Louis. In the automobile was found 
 clothing bearing St. Louis trademarks. 
 
 "Judging from the balance in this check- 
 book," said the sheriff, 'he was a man who 
 did n't have to worry about financial affairs. 
 Probably this is only a checking account, 
 for running expenses, but there's thirty 
 thousand to his credit." 
 
 "He's probably some tourist on his way 
 to the coast," observed the deputy, "and 
 he thought he'd make a detour and see an 
 Injun reservation. Somebody saw a good 
 chance for a holdup, but he showed fight 
 and got killed." 
 
 "Nobody reported such a machine as go- 
 
1 6 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 ing through the agency/' offered Lowell. 
 "The car is big enough and showy enough to 
 attract attention anywhere." 
 
 "I didn't see him go past my place," said 
 Talpers. "And if my clerk 'd seen him he'd 
 have said somethin' about it." 
 
 "Well, he was killed sometime yesterday 
 — that's sure," remarked the sheriff. "He 
 might have come through early in the morn- 
 ing and nobody saw him, or he might have 
 hit White Lodge and the agency and Tal- 
 pers 's late at night and camped here along 
 the Dollar Sign until morning and been 
 killed when he started on. The thing of it is 
 that this is as far as he got, and we've got 
 to find the ones that's responsible. This 
 kind of a killing is jest going to make the 
 White Lodge Chamber of Commerce get up 
 on its hind legs and howl. There's bound 
 to be speeches telling how, just when we've 
 about convinced the East that we 've shook 
 off our wild Western ways, here comes a 
 murder that's wilder 'n anything that's been 
 pulled off since the trapper days." 
 
 "Accordin' to my way of thinkin'," said 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 17 
 
 Talpers, "that man was n't tortured after 
 he was staked down. Any one who knows 
 anything about Injun character knows that 
 when they pegged a victim out that way, 
 they intended for him to furnish some amuse- 
 ment, such as having splinters stuck into 
 him and bein' set afire by the squaws." 
 
 "They probably thought they seen some 
 one coming," said the sheriff, "and shot him 
 after they got him tied down, and then made 
 a quick getaway." 
 
 " That man was shot before he was tied 
 down," interposed Lowell quietly. 
 
 "What makes you think that? " Redmond 
 said quickly. 
 
 "There are no powder marks on his face. 
 And any one shot at such close range, by 
 some one standing over him, would have 
 had his head blown away." 
 
 Redmond assented, grudgingly. 
 
 "What does Plenty Buffalo think about it 
 all?" he asked. 
 
 Lowell called the police chief and the in- 
 terpreter. Plenty Buffalo declared that he 
 was puzzled. He was not prepared to make 
 
1 8 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 any statement at all as yet. He might have 
 something later on. 
 
 "Very well," said the agent, motioning 
 to Plenty Buffalo to go on with the close 
 investigations he had been silently carry- 
 ing on. "We may get something of value 
 from him when he has finished looking. But 
 there 's no use coaxing him to talk now. ,: 
 
 "I s'pose not," rejoined Redmond sneer- 
 ingly. " What 's more, I s'pose he can't even 
 see them Injun pony tracks around the body." 
 
 "He called my attention to them as soon 
 as we arrived here," said Lowell. "But as 
 far as that goes he did n't need to. Those 
 things are as evident as the bald fact that 
 the man has been killed." 
 
 "Well, that 's about the only clue there is, 
 as far as I can figger out," remarked the 
 sheriff testily, "and that points straight and 
 clean to some of your wards on the reser- 
 vation." 
 
 "Count on me for any help," replied 
 Lowell crisply. "All I'm interested in, of 
 course, is seeing the guilty brought out into 
 the light." 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 19 
 
 Turning away and ending a controversy, 
 which he knew would be fruitless, Lowell 
 made another searching personal examina- 
 tion of the scene. h He examined the stakes, 
 having in mind the possibility of finger- 
 prints. But no tell-tale mark had been left 
 behind. The stakes were too rough to ad- 
 mit the possibility of any finger-prints that 
 might be microscopically detected. The 
 road and prairie surrounding the automo- 
 bile were examined, but nothing save pony 
 tracks, numerous and indiscriminately min- 
 gled, rewarded his efforts. 
 
 "Them Injuns jest milled around this 
 machine and the body of that hombrey," 
 said Talpers. "There must have been 
 twenty-five of 'em in the bunch, anyway, 
 ain't I right, Plenty Buffalo?' added the 
 trader, repeating his remark in the Indian's 
 tribal tongue, in which the white man was 
 expert. 
 
 "Heap Injun here," agreed Plenty Buf- 
 falo, not averse to showing off a large part of 
 his limited English vocabulary. 
 
 "That trouble-maker, Fire Bear, is the 
 
20 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 only one who travels much with a gang, 
 ain't he?" demanded Redmond. 
 
 "Yes," assented the agent. "He has had 
 from fifty to one hundred young Indians 
 making medicine with him on Wolf Moun- 
 tain, Rest assured that Fire Bear and every 
 one with him will have to give an account of 
 himself." 
 
 "That's the talk!" exclaimed Redmond, 
 pulling at his mustache. "I ain't afraid of 
 your not shooting straight in this thing, Mr. 
 Lowell, but you 've got to admit that you 've 
 stuck up for Injuns the way no other agent 
 has ever stuck up for 'em before, and nat- 
 chelly — " 
 
 "Naturally you thought I might even 
 cover up murder for them," added Lowell 
 good-naturedly. "Well, get that idea out of 
 your head. But also get it out of your head 
 that I 'm going to see any Indian or Indians 
 railroaded for a crime that possibly he or 
 they did n't commit." 
 
 "All right!" snapped the sheriff, in- 
 stantly as belligerent and suspicious as ever. 
 "But this thing is going to be worked out on 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 21 
 
 the evidence, and right now the evidence — • 
 
 " Which is all circumstantial." 
 
 "Yes, circumstantial it may be, but it's 
 mighty strong against some of your people 
 over that there line, and it's going to be 
 followed up." 
 
 Lowell shrugged his shoulders, knowing 
 the futility of further argument with the 
 sheriff, who was representative of the con- 
 siderable element that always looked upon 
 Indians as "red devils" and that would never 
 admit that any good existed in race or in- 
 dividual. 
 
 The agent assisted in removing the body 
 of the murdered man to the big automobile 
 that had been standing in the road, a silent 
 witness to the crime. Lowell drove the ma- 
 chine to White Lodge, at the request of the 
 sheriff, and sent telegrams which might 
 establish the dead man's identity beyond 
 all doubt. 
 
 Meantime the news of the murder was not 
 long in making its devious way about the 
 sparsely settled countryside. Most of the 
 population of White Lodge, and ranchers 
 
ii MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 from remote districts, visited the scene. 
 One fortunate individual, who had arrived 
 before the body had been removed, in- 
 terested various groups by stretching him- 
 self out on the prairie on the exact spot 
 where the slain man had been found. 
 
 "Here he laid, jest like this," the actor 
 would conclude, "right out here in the 
 bunch grass and prickly pear, with his hands 
 and feet tied to them tent-stakes, and pony 
 tracks and moccasin tracks all mixed around 
 in the dust jest as if a hull tribe had been 
 millin' here. If a lot of Injuns don't swing 
 for this, then there 's no use of callin' this a 
 white man's country any more." 
 
 The flames of resentment needed no 
 fanning, as Lowell found. The agent had 
 not concluded his work with the sheriff at 
 White Lodge before he heard thinly veiled 
 threats directed at all Indians and their 
 friends. He paid no attention to the com- 
 ments, but drove back to the agency, suc- 
 cessfully masking the grave concern he felt. 
 In the evening, his chief clerk, Ed Rogers, 
 found Lowell reading a magazine. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 23 
 
 'The talk is that you'll have to get Fire 
 Bear for this murder," said Rogers. Then 
 the chief clerk added, bluntly: "I thought 
 sure you'd be working on this case." 
 
 Lowell smiled at the clerk's astonishment. 
 
 "There's nothing more that requires my 
 attention just now," he said. "If Fire Bear 
 is wanted, we can always get him. That's 
 one thing that simplifies all such matters, 
 where Indians are concerned. An Indian 
 can't lose himself in a crowd, like a white 
 man. Furthermore, he never thinks of leav- 
 ing the reservation." 
 
 Here the young agent rose and yawned. 
 
 "Anyway," he remarked, "it isn't our 
 move right now. Until it is, I prefer to 
 think of pleasanter things." 
 
 But the agent's thoughts were not on any 
 of the pleasant things contained in the maga- 
 zine he had flung into a corner. They were 
 dwelling most consistently upon a pleasing 
 journey he had enjoyed, a few days before, 
 with a young woman whom he had taken 
 from the agency to Mystery Ranch. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Helen Erven's life in a private school 
 for girls at San Francisco had been un- 
 eventful until her graduation. She had been 
 in the school for ten years. Before that, she 
 had vague recollections of a school that was 
 not so well conducted. In fact, almost her 
 entire recollection was of teachers, school 
 chums, and women who had been hired as 
 companions and tutors. Some one had paid 
 much money for her upbringing — that 
 much Helen Ervin knew. The mystery of 
 her caretaking was known, of course, by 
 Miss Scovill, head of the Scovill School, but 
 it had never been disclosed. It had become 
 such an ancient mystery that Helen told 
 herself she had lost all interest in it. Miss 
 Scovill was kind and motherly, and would 
 answer any other questions. She had taken 
 personal charge of the girl, who lived at the 
 Scovill home during vacations as well as 
 throughout the school year. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 25 
 
 " Some day it will all be explained to you," 
 Miss Scovill had said, "but for the present 
 you are simply to learn all you can and con- 
 tinue to be just as nice as you have been. 
 And meantime rest assured that somebody 
 is vitally interested in your welfare and 
 happiness." 
 
 The illuminating letter came a few days 
 after graduation. The girls had all gone 
 home and school was closed. Helen was 
 alone in the Scovill home. Miss Scovill had 
 gone away for a few days, on business. 
 
 The letter bore a postmark with a strange, 
 Indian-sounding name: "White Lodge." It 
 was in a man's handwriting — evidently a 
 man who had written much. The signature, 
 which was first to be glanced at by the girl, 
 read: "From your affectionate stepfather, 
 Willis Morgan." The letter was as follows: 
 
 No doubt you will be surprised at getting this 
 letter from one whose existence you have not sus- 
 pected. I had thought to let you remain in darkness 
 concerning me. For years I have been pleased to 
 pay your expenses in school — glad in the thought 
 that you were getting the best care and education 
 that could be purchased. But my affairs have taken 
 
a6 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 a bad turn. I am, to put it vulgarly, cramped finan- 
 cially. Moreover, the loneliness in my heart has 
 become fairly overmastering. I can steel myself 
 against it no longer. I want you with me in my de- 
 clining years. I cannot leave here. I have become 
 greatly attached to this part of the country, and have 
 no doubt that you will be, also. Sylvan scenes, with 
 a dash of human savagery in the foreground, form 
 the best relief for a too-extended assimilation of 
 books. It has been like balm to me, and will prove 
 so to you. 
 
 Briefly, I want you to come, and at once. A check 
 to cover expenses is enclosed. Your school years are 
 ended, and a life of quiet, amid scenes of aborigi- 
 nal romance, awaits you here. Selfishly, perhaps, I 
 appeal to your gratitude, if the prospect I have held 
 out does not prove enticing of itself. If what I have 
 done for you in all these years entitles me to any 
 return, I ask you not to delay the payment. By 
 coming now, you can wipe the slate clean of any 
 indebtedness. 
 
 Then followed directions about reaching 
 the ranch — the Greek Letter Ranch, the 
 writer called it — and a final appeal to her 
 sense of gratitude. 
 
 When Helen finished reading the letter, 
 her heart was suffused with pity for this 
 lonely man who had come thus strangely 
 and unexpectedly into her life. Her good 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 27 
 
 impulses had always prompted her strongly. 
 Miss Scovill was away, so Helen left her a 
 note of explanation, telling everything in 
 detail. "I know, dear foster mother," wrote 
 the girl, "that you are going to rejoice with 
 me, now that I have found my stepfather. 
 I'll be looking forward to the time when you 
 can visit us at the Greek Letter Ranch." 
 
 Making ready for the journey took only 
 a short time. In a few hours Helen was on 
 her way, little knowing that Miss Scovill, 
 on her return, was frantically sending out 
 telegrams which indicated anything but 
 a peaceful acceptance of conditions. One of 
 these telegrams, sent to an address which 
 Helen would not have recognized, read: 
 
 The dove has been lured to the serpent's nest. 
 Take what action you deem best, but quickly. 
 
 Helen enjoyed her trip through California 
 and then eastward through the Northwest 
 country to the end of the spur which pointed 
 toward the reservation. From the railroad's 
 end she went to White Lodge by stage. 
 From White Lodge she was told she had 
 better take a private conveyance to her 
 
28 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 destination. She hired a rig of a livery- 
 stable keeper, who said he could not possibly 
 take her beyond the Indian agency. 
 
 "Mebbe some one there'll take you the 
 rest of the way," said the liveryman; and, 
 accepting his hopeful view of the situation, 
 the girl consented to go on in such indef- 
 inite fashion. 
 
 Thus it happened that a slender, white- 
 clad young woman, with a suitcase at her 
 feet, stood on the agency office porch, under- 
 going the steady scrutiny of four or five 
 blanketed Indian matrons when Walter 
 Lowell came back from lunch. In a few 
 words Helen had explained matters, and 
 Lowell picked up her suitcase, and, after 
 ascertaining that she had had no lunch, 
 escorted her up the street to the dining-hall. 
 
 " We have a little lunch club of employees, 
 and guests often sit in with us,' 5 said the 
 agent cordially. "After you eat, and have 
 rested up a bit, I '11 see that you are driven 
 over to the — ■ to the Greek Letter Ranch.' 3 
 
 As a matter of fact, Lowell had to think 
 several times before he could get the Greek 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 29 
 
 Letter Ranch placed in his mind. He had 
 fallen into the habit — in common with 
 others in the neighborhood — of calling it 
 Mystery Ranch. Also Willis Morgan's name 
 was mentioned so seldom that the agent's 
 mental gymnastics were long sustained and 
 almost painfully apparent before he had 
 matters righted. 
 
 "Rogers," said Lowell to his chief clerk, 
 on getting back to the agency office, "how 
 many years has Willis Morgan been in this 
 part of the country?" 
 
 "Willis Morgan," echoed Rogers, scratch- 
 ing his head. " Oh, I know now ! You mean 
 the 'squaw professor.' He hasn't been 
 called Morgan since he married that squaw 
 who died five years go. There was talk that 
 he used to be a college professor, which is 
 right, I guess, from the number of books 
 he reads. But when he married an Indian 
 folks just called him the 'squaw prof.' He's 
 been out here twelve or fifteen years, I 
 guess. Let's see — he got those Indian 
 lands through his wife when Jones was 
 agent. He must have moved off the reser- 
 
3 o MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 vation when Arbuckle was agent, just before 
 you came on." 
 
 "Did he always use a Greek letter brand 
 on his cattle?" 
 
 "Always. He never ran many cattle. I 
 guess he has n't got any at all now. But 
 what he did have he always insisted on hav- 
 ing branded with that pitchfork brand, as 
 the cowpunchers call it." 
 
 "I know —it's the letter Psi." 
 
 "Well, Si, or whatever other nickname it 
 is, even the toughest-hearted old cowmen 
 used to kick on having to put such a big 
 brand on critters. That big pitchfork on 
 flanks or shoulders must have spoiled many 
 a hide for Morgan, but he always insisted on 
 having it slapped on." 
 
 "Have the Indians always got along with 
 him pretty well?" 
 
 "Yes, because they're afraid of him and 
 leave him alone. It ain't physical fear, but 
 something deeper, like being afraid of a 
 snake, I guess. You see he knows so damn 
 much, he's uncanny. It's the power of 
 mind over matter. Seems funny to think 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 31 
 
 of him having the biggest Indians buffaloed, 
 but he's done it, and he's buffaloed the 
 white folks, too. He gave it out that he 
 wanted to be let alone, and, by jimminy, 
 he 's been let alone ! I '11 bet there aren't four 
 people in the county who have seen his face 
 in as many years." 
 
 "Did he have any children?" 
 
 "No. His wife was a pretty little Indian 
 woman. He just married her to show his 
 defiance of society, I guess. Anyway, he 
 must have killed her by inches. If he had 
 the other Indians scared, you can imagine 
 how he must have terrorized her. Yet I'll 
 bet he never raised his voice above an or- 
 dinary conversational tone." 
 
 Lowell frowned as he looked out across 
 the agency street. 
 
 "Why, what's come up about Morgan?' 
 asked Rogers. 
 
 "Oh, not such a lot," replied the agent. 
 "It's only that there's a girl here — his 
 stepdaughter, it seems — and she 's going 
 to make her home with him." 
 
 "Good Lord!" ejaculated the chief clerk. 
 
3 2 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "She's over at the club table now having 
 lunch," went on Lowell. "I'm going to 
 drive her over to the ranch. She seems to 
 think this stepfather of hers is all kinds of a 
 nice fellow, and I can't tell her that she'd 
 better take her little suitcase and go right 
 back where she came from. Besides, who 
 knows that she may be right and we've 
 been misjudging Morgan all these years?' 
 
 "Well, if Willis Morgan's been misjudged, 
 then I'm really an angel all ready to sprout 
 wings," observed the clerk. "But maybe 
 he's braced up, or, if he hasn't, this step- 
 daughter has tackled the job of reforming 
 him. If she does it, it'll be the supreme 
 test of what woman can do along that line.' 3 
 
 "What business have bachelors such as 
 you and I to be talking about any reforma- 
 tions wrought by woman?' asked Lowell 
 smilingly. 
 
 "Not much," agreed Rogers. "Outside 
 of the school-teachers and other agency em- 
 ployees I haven't seen a dozen white women 
 since I went to Denver three years ago. 
 And you — why, you have n't been away 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 33 
 
 from here except on one trip to Washington 
 in the last four years." 
 
 Each man looked out of the window, ab- 
 sorbed in his own dreams. Lowell had for- 
 saken an active career to take up the routine 
 of an Indian agent's life. After leaving col- 
 lege he had done some newspaper work, 
 which he abandoned because a position as 
 land investigator for a corporation with oil 
 interests in view had given him a chance to 
 travel in the West. There had been a chance 
 journey across an Indian reservation, with 
 a sojourn at an agency. Lowell had de- 
 cided that his work had been spread before 
 him. By persistent personal effort and the 
 use of some political influence, he secured 
 an appointment as Indian agent. The mon- 
 etary reward was small, but he had not 
 regretted his choice. Only there were memo- 
 ries such as this girl brought to him — 
 memories of college days when there were 
 certain other girls in white dresses, and when 
 there was music far removed from weird 
 Indian chants, and the thud-thud of moc- 
 casins was not always in his ears . . . 
 
34 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 Lowell rose hastily. 
 
 "They must be through eating over 
 there," he said. "But I positively hate to 
 start the trip that will land the girl at that 
 ranch." 
 
 The agent drove his car over to the 
 dining-hall. When Helen came out, the 
 agency blacksmith was carrying her suit- 
 case, and the matron, Mrs. Ryers, had her 
 arm about the girl's waist, for friends are 
 quickly made in the West's lonely places. 
 School-teachers and other agency employees 
 chorused good-bye as the automobile was 
 driven away. 
 
 The girl was flushed with pleasure, and 
 there were tears in her eyes. 
 
 "I don't blame you for liking to live 
 on an Indian reservation," she said, 'amid 
 such cordial people." 
 
 "Well, it isn't so bad, though, of course, 
 we're in a backwater here," said Lowell. 
 "An Indian reservation gives you a queer 
 feeling that way. The tides of civilization 
 are racing all around, but here the progress 
 is painfully slow." 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 3S 
 
 "Tell me more about it, please," pleaded 
 the girl. "This lovely place — surely the 
 Indians like it." 
 
 "Some of them do, perhaps," said Lowell. 
 'But they haven't been trained to this sort 
 of thing. A lodge out there on the prairie, 
 with game to be hunted and horses to be 
 ridden — that would suit the most ad- 
 vanced of them better than settled life 
 anywhere. But, of course, all that is impos- 
 sible, and the thing is to reconcile them to 
 the inevitable things they have to face. 
 And even reconciling white people to the 
 inevitable is no easy job." 
 
 'No, it's harder, really, than teaching 
 these poor Indians, I suppose,' 5 agreed the 
 girl. 'But don't you find lots to recom- 
 pense you?" 
 
 Lowell stole a look at her, and then he 
 slowed the car's pace considerably. There 
 was no use hurrying to the ranch with such 
 a charming companion aboard. The fresh 
 June breeze had loosened a strand or two of 
 her brown hair. The bright, strong sunshine 
 merely emphasized the youthful perfection 
 
3 6 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 of her complexion. She had walked with a 
 certain buoyancy of carriage which Lowell 
 ascribed to athletics. Her eyes were brown, 
 and rather serious of expression, but her 
 smile was quick and natural — the sort of a 
 smile that brings one in return, so Lowell 
 concluded in his fragmentary process of 
 cataloguing. Her youth was the splendid 
 thing about her to-day. To-morrow her 
 strong, resourceful womanhood might be 
 still more splendid. Lowell surrendered him- 
 self completely to the enjoyment of the 
 drive, and likewise he slowed down the car 
 another notch. 
 
 "Of course, just getting out of school, I 
 haven't learned so much about the inevit- 
 ableness of life," said the girl, harking back 
 to Lowell's remark concerning the Indians, 
 "but I'm beginning to sense the responsi- 
 bilities now. I 've just learned that it was 
 my stepfather who kept me in that delight- 
 ful school so many years, and now it 's time 
 for repayment." 
 
 "Repayment seems to be exacted for 
 everything in life," said Lowell automati- 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 37 
 
 cally, though he was too much astonished at 
 the girl's remark to tell whether his reply- 
 had been intelligible. Was it possible the 
 "squaw professor' had been misjudged all 
 these years, and was living a life of sacrifice 
 in order that this girl might have every 
 opportunity? Lowell had not recovered 
 from the astounding idea before they 
 reached Talpers's place. He stopped the 
 automobile in front of the store, and the 
 trader came out. 
 
 "Mr. Talpers, meet Miss Ervin, daughter 
 of our neighbor, Mr. Morgan," said the 
 agent. 'Miss Ervin will probably be com- 
 ing over here after her mail, and you might 
 as well meet her now." 
 
 Talpers bobbed his head, but not enough 
 to break the stare he had bent upon the girl, 
 who flushed under his scrutiny. As a matter 
 of fact, the trader had been too taken aback 
 at the thought of a woman — and a young 
 and pretty woman — being related to the 
 owner of Mystery Ranch to do more than 
 mumble a greeting. Then the vividness of 
 the girl's beauty had slowly worked upon 
 
3 8 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 him, rendering his speechlessness absolute. 
 
 "I don't like Mr. Talpers as well as I do 
 some of your Indians," said the girl, as they 
 rolled away from the store, leaving the 
 trader on the platform, still staring. 
 
 "Well, I don't mind confiding in you, as 
 I 've confided in Bill himself, that Mr. Tal- 
 pers is something over ninety per cent un- 
 desirable. He is one of the thorns that 
 grow expressly for the purpose of sticking in 
 the side of Uncle Sam. He 's cunning and 
 dangerous, and constantly lowers the reser- 
 vation morale, but he 's over the line and I 
 can't do a thing with him unless I get him 
 red-handed. But he's postmaster and the 
 only trader near here, and you'll have to 
 know him, so I thought I'd bring out the 
 Talpers exhibit early." 
 
 Helen laughed, and forgot her momentary 
 displeasure as the insistent appeal of the 
 landscape crowded everything else from her 
 mind. The white road lay like a carelessly 
 flung thread on the billowing plateau land. 
 The air was crisp with the magic of the 
 upper altitudes. Gray clumps of sagebrush 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 39 
 
 stood forth like little islands in the sea of 
 grass. A winding line of willows told where a 
 small stream lay hidden. The shadows of 
 late afternoon were filling distant hollows 
 with purple. Remote mountains broke the 
 horizon in a serrated line. Prairie flowers 
 scented the snow-cooled breeze. 
 
 They paused on the top of a hill, where, a 
 few days later, a tragedy was to be enacted. 
 The agent said nothing, letting the pano- 
 rama tell its own story. 
 
 "Oh, it's almost overwhelming," said 
 Helen finally, with a sigh. "Sometimes it 
 all seems so intimate, and personally 
 friendly, and then those meadow-larks stop 
 singing for a moment, and the sun brings 
 out the bigness of everything — and you feel 
 afraid, or at least I do." 
 
 Lowell smiled understandingly. 
 
 "It works on strong men the same way," 
 he said. "That's why there are no Indian 
 tramps, I guess. No Indian ever went 'on 
 his own' in this big country. The tribes 
 people always clung together. The white 
 trappers came and tried life alone, but lots 
 
40 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 of them went queer as a penalty. The cow- 
 punchers flocked together and got along all 
 right, but many a sheep-herder who has 
 tried it alone has had to be taken in charge 
 by his folks. Human companionship out in 
 all those big spaces is just as necessary as 
 bacon, flour, and salt." 
 
 The girl sighed wistfully. 
 
 "Of course, I've had lots of companion- 
 ship at school," she said. "Is there any one 
 besides my stepfather on his ranch? There 
 must be, I imagine." 
 
 "There's a Chinese cook, I believe — 
 Wong," replied Lowell. "But you are going 
 to find lots to interest you. Besides, if you 
 will let me — " 
 
 "Yes, I'll let you drive over real often," 
 laughed the girl, as Lowell hesitated. " I '11 be 
 delighted, and I know father will be, also." 
 
 Lowell wanted to turn the car around and 
 head it away from the hated ranch which 
 was now so close at hand. His heart sank, 
 and he became silent as they dropped into 
 the valley and appoached the water-course, 
 near which Willis Morgan's cabin stood. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 41 
 
 "Here 's the place," he said briefly, as he 
 turned into a travesty of a front yard and 
 halted beside a small cabin, built of logs and 
 containing not more than three or four 
 rooms. 
 
 The girl looked at Lowell in surprise. 
 Something in the grim set of his jaw told 
 her the truth. Pride came instantly to her 
 rescue, and in a steady voice she made some 
 comment on the quaintness of the surround- 
 
 ings. 
 
 There was no welcome — not even the 
 barking of a dog. Lowell took the suitcase 
 from the car, and, with the girl standing at 
 his side, knocked at the heavy pine door, 
 which opened slowly. An Oriental face 
 peered forth. In the background Lowell 
 could see the shadowy figure of Willis Mor- 
 gan. The man's pale face and gray hair 
 looked blurred in the half-light of the cabin. 
 He did not step to the door, but his voice 
 came, cold and cutting. 
 
 "Bring in the suitcase, Wong," said Mor- 
 gan. "Welcome to this humble abode, 
 stepdaughter o' mine. I had hardly dared 
 
42 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 hope you would take such a plunge into the 
 primitive." 
 
 The girl was trying to voice her gratitude 
 to Lowell when Morgan's hand was thrust 
 forth and grasped hers and fairly pulled her 
 into the doorway. The door closed, and 
 Lowell turned back to his automobile, with 
 anger and pity struggling within him for 
 adequate expression. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 Walter Lowell tore the wrapper of his 
 copy of the "White Lodge Weekly Star" 
 when the agency mail was put on his desk a 
 few days after the murder on the Dollar Sign 
 road. 
 
 "I 'm betting Editor Jay Travers cuts into 
 the vitriol supply for our benefit in this is- 
 sue of his household journal," remarked the 
 agent to his chief clerk. 
 
 "He won't overlook the chance," replied 
 Rogers. "Here's where he earns a little of 
 the money the stockmen have been putting 
 into his newspaper during the last few years.' 3 
 
 "Yes, here it is: 'Crime Points to Indians. 
 Automobile Tourist Killed Near Reserva- 
 tion. Staked Down, Probably by Redskins. 
 Wave of Horror Sweeping the County — 
 Dancing should be Stopped — Policy of 
 Coddling Indians — WTiite Settlers not 
 Safe.' Oh, take it and read it in detail!' 
 And Lowell tossed the paper to Rogers. 
 
44 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "And right here, where you 'd look for it 
 first thing — right at the top of the editorial 
 column — is a regular old-fashioned Eng- 
 lish leader, calling on the Government to 
 throw open the reservation to grazing," said 
 Rogers. 
 
 "'The London 'Times' could thunder no 
 more strongly in proportion. The grateful 
 cowmen should throw at least another five 
 thousand into ye editor's coffers. But, after 
 all, what does it matter? A dozen news- 
 papers couldn't make the case look any 
 blacker for the Indians. If some hot- 
 headed white man doesn't read this and take 
 a shot at the first Indian he meets, no great 
 harm will be done." 
 
 The inquest over the slain man had been 
 duly held at White Lodge. The coroner's 
 jury found that the murder had been done 
 "by a person or persons unknown.'' The 
 telegrams which Lowell had sent had 
 brought back the information that Edward 
 B. Sargent was a retired inventor of mining 
 machinery — that he was prosperous, and 
 lived alone. His servants said he had de- 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 45 
 
 parted in an automobile five days before. 
 He had left no word as to his destination, 
 but had drawn some money from the bank 
 — sufficient to cover expenses on an ex- 
 tended trip. His servants said he was in the 
 habit of taking such trips alone. Generally 
 he went to the Rocky Mountains in his 
 automobile every summer. He was ac- 
 customed to life in the open and generally 
 carried a camping outfit. His description 
 tallied with that which had been sent. He 
 had left definite instructions with a trust 
 company about the disposal of his fortune, 
 and about his burial, in case of his death. 
 Would the county authorities at White 
 Lodge please forward remains without de- 
 lay? 
 
 While the inquiry was in progress, Walter 
 Lowell spent much of his time at White 
 Lodge, and caught the brunt of the bitter 
 feeling against the Indians. It seemed as if 
 at least three out of four residents of the 
 county had mentally tried and convicted 
 Fire Bear and his companions. 
 
 'And if there is one out of the four that 
 
46 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 hasn't told me his opinion/' said Lowell 
 to the sheriff, "it's because he hasn't been 
 able to get to town." 
 
 Sheriff Tom Redmond, though evidently 
 firm in his opinion that Indians were re- 
 sponsible for the crime, was not as out- 
 spoken in his remarks as he had been at the 
 scene of the murder. The county attorney, 
 Charley Dryenforth, a young lawyer who 
 had been much interested in the progress of 
 the Indians, had counseled less assumption 
 on the sheriff's part. 
 
 "Whoever did this," said the young at- 
 torney, "is going to be found, either here in 
 this county or on the Indian reservation. It 
 wasn't any chance job — the work of a fly- 
 by-night tramp or yeggman. The Dollar 
 Sign is too far off the main road to admit 
 of that theory. It's a home job, and the 
 truth will come out sooner or later, just as 
 Lowell says, and the only sensible thing is 
 to work with the agent and not against him 
 — at least until he gives some just cause for 
 complaint." 
 
 Like the Indian agent, the attorney had a 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 47 
 
 complete understanding of the prejudices in 
 the case. There is always pressure about 
 any Indian reservation. White men look 
 across the line at unfenced acres, and com- 
 plain bitterly against a policy that gives 
 so much land to so few individuals. There 
 are constant appeals to Congressmen. New 
 treaties, which disregard old covenants as 
 scraps of paper, are constantly being intro- 
 duced. Leasing laws are being made and 
 remade and fought over. The Indian agent 
 is the local buffer between contending forces. 
 But, used as he was to unfounded complaint 
 and criticism, Walter Lowell was hardly 
 prepared for the bitterness that descended 
 upon him at White Lodge after the crime on 
 the Dollar Sign. Men with whom he had 
 hunted and fished, cattlemen whom he had 
 helped on the round-up, and storekeepers 
 whose trade he had swelled to considerable 
 degree, attempted to engage in argument 
 tinged with acrimony. Lowell attempted 
 to answer a few of them at first, but saw how 
 futile it all was, and took refuge in silence. 
 He waited until there was nothing more for 
 
48 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 him to do at White Lodge, and then he went 
 back to the agency to complete the job of 
 forgetting an incredible number of small 
 personal injuries. . . . There was the girl at 
 Willis Morgan's ranch. Surely she would 
 be outside of all these wave-like circles of 
 distrust and rancor. He intended to have 
 gone to see her within a day or two after he 
 had taken her over to Morgan's, but some- 
 thing insistent had come up at the agency, 
 and then had come the murder. Well, he 
 would go over right away. He took his hat 
 and gloves and started for the automobile, 
 when the telephone rang. 
 
 "It's Sheriff Tom Redmond," said Ro- 
 gers. "He's coming over to see you about 
 going out after Fire Bear. An indictment's 
 been found, and he's bringing a warrant 
 charging Fire Bear with murder." 
 
 Bill Talpers sat behind the letter cage 
 that marked off Uncle Sam's corner of his 
 store, and paid no attention to the waiting 
 Indian outside who wanted a high-crowned 
 hat, but who knew better than to ask for it. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 49 
 
 Being postmaster had brought no end of 
 problems to Bill. This time it was a prob- 
 lem that was not displeasing, though Mr. 
 Talpers was not quite sure as yet how it 
 should be followed out. The problem was 
 contained in a letter which Postmaster Bill 
 held in his hand. The letter was open, 
 though it was not addressed to the man who 
 had read it a dozen times and who was still 
 considering its import. 
 
 Lovingly, Bill once more looked at the 
 address on the envelope. It was in a fem- 
 inine hand and read: 
 
 MR. EDWARD B. SARGENT. 
 
 The town that figured on the envelope 
 was Quaking-Asp Grove, which was beyond 
 White Lodge, on the main transcontinental 
 highway. Slowly Bill took from the en- 
 velope a note which read: 
 
 Dear Uncle and Benefactor: 
 
 I have learned all. Do not come to the ranch for 
 me, as you have planned. Evil impends. In fact I 
 feel that he means to do you harm. I plead with 
 you, do not come. It is the only way you can avert 
 certain tragedy. I am sending this by Wong, as I am 
 
50 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 watched closely, though he pretends to be looking 
 out only for my welfare. I can escape in some way. 
 I am not afraid — only for you. Again I plead with 
 you not to come. You will be going into a death- 
 trap. 
 
 Helen 
 
 Wong, the factotum from the Greek Let- 
 ter Ranch, had brought the letter and had 
 duly stamped it and dropped it in the box 
 for outgoing mail, three days before the 
 murder on the Dollar Sign road. Wong had 
 all the appearance of a man frightened and in 
 a hurry. Talpers sought to detain him, but 
 the Chinese hurried back to his old white 
 horse and climbed clumsily into the saddle. 
 
 "It's a long time sence I've seen that old 
 white hoss with the big pitchfork brand on 
 his shoulder," said Talpers. "You ain't 
 ridin' up here for supplies as often as you 
 used to, Wong. Must be gettin' all your 
 stuff bv mail-order route. Well, I ain't sore 
 about it, so wait awhile and have a little 
 smoke and talk." 
 
 But W T ong had shaken his head and de- 
 parted as rapidly in the direction of the 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 51 
 
 ranch as his limited riding ability would 
 permit. 
 
 The letter that Wong had mailed had not 
 gone to its addressed destination. Talpers 
 had opened it and read it, out of idle curi- 
 osity, intending to seal the flap again and 
 remail it if it proved to be nothing out of 
 the ordinary. But there were hints of inter- 
 esting things in the letter, and Bill kept it 
 a day or so for re-reading. Then he kept it 
 for another day because he had stuck it in 
 his pocket and all but forgotten about it. 
 Afterward came the murder, with the name 
 of Sargent figuring, and Bill kept the letter 
 for various reasons, one of which was that 
 he did not know what else to do with it. 
 
 "It's too late for that feller to git it now, 
 any ways," was Bill's comfortable philos- 
 ophy. "And if I'd go and mail it now, 
 some fool inspector might make it cost 
 me my job as postmaster. Besides, it may 
 come useful in my business — who knows? ' 
 
 The usefulness of the letter, from Bill's 
 standpoint, began to be apparent the day 
 after the murder, when Helen Ervin rode 
 
C2 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 up to the store on. the white horse which 
 Wong had graced. The girl rode well. She 
 was hatless and dressed in a neat riding- 
 suit — the conventional attire of her class- 
 mates who had gorie in for riding-lessons. 
 Her riding-clothes were the first thing she 
 had packed, on leaving San Francisco, as 
 the very word "ranch" had suggested de- 
 lightful excursions in the saddle. 
 
 Two or three Indians sat stolidly on the 
 porch as Helen rode up. She had learned 
 that the old horse was not given to running 
 away. He might roll, to rid himself of the 
 flies, but he was not even likely to do that 
 with the saddle on, so Helen did not trouble 
 to tie him to the rack. She let the reins 
 drop to the ground and walked past the In- 
 dians into the store, where Bill Talpers was 
 watching her greedily from behind his post- 
 master's desk. 
 
 y 
 
 : You are postmaster heifc, Mr. Talpers, 
 aren't you?' asked Helen, with a slight 
 acknowledgment of the trader's greeting. 
 
 Bill admitted that Uncle Sam had so 
 honored him. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH S3 
 
 "I'm looking for a letter that was mailed 
 here by Wong, and should be back from 
 Quaking-Asp Grove by this time. It had a 
 return address on it, and I understand the 
 person to whom it was sent did not receive 
 it." 
 
 Talpers leaned forward mysteriously and 
 fixed his animal-like gaze on Helen. 
 
 "I know why he didn't git it," said Bill. 
 "He did n't git it because he was murdered.'' 
 
 Helen turned white, and her riding-whip 
 ceased its tattoo on her boot. She grasped 
 at the edge of the counter for support, and 
 Bill smiled triumphantly. He had played 
 a big card and won, and now he was going 
 to let this girl know who was master. 
 
 "There ain't no use of your feelin' cut 
 up," he went on. "If you and me jest un- 
 derstand each other right, there ain't no 
 reason why any one else should know about 
 that letter." 
 
 'You held it up and it never reached 
 
 Quaking- Asp Grove!" exclaimed Helen. 
 
 You're the real murderer. I can have you 
 
 put in prison for tampering with the mails.' 3 
 
54 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 The last shot did not make Bill blink. 
 He had been looking for it. 
 
 " Ye-es, you might have me put in prison. 
 I admit that,' 3 he said, stroking his sparse 
 black beard, "but you ain't goin' to, because 
 I 'd feel in duty bound to say that I jest held 
 up the letter in the interests of justice, and 
 turn the hull thing over to the authorities. 
 Old Fussbudget Tom Redmond is jest achin' 
 to make an arrest in this case. He wants to 
 throw the hull Injun reservation in jail, but 
 he 'd jest as soon switch to a white person, if 
 confronted with the proper evidence. Now 
 this here letter" — and here Bill took the 
 missive from his pocket — "looks to me like 
 air-tight, iron-bound, copper-riveted sort 
 of testimony that says its own say. Tom 
 could n't help but act on it, and act 
 quick." 
 
 Helen looked about despairingly. The 
 Indians sat like statues on the porch. They 
 had not even turned their heads to observe 
 what was going on inside the store. The 
 old white horse was switching and stamping 
 and shuddering in his constant and futile 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 55 
 
 battle against flies. Beyond the road was 
 silence and prairie. 
 
 Turning toward the trader, Helen thought 
 to start in on a plea for mercy, but one look 
 into Talpers's face made her change her 
 mind. Anger set her heart beating tumult- 
 uously. She snatched at the letter in the 
 trader's hand, but Bill merely caught her 
 wrist in his big fingers. Swinging the 
 riding-whip with all her strength, she struck 
 Talpers across the face again and again, but 
 he only laughed, and finally wrenched the 
 whip away from her and threw it out in the 
 middle of the floor. Then he released her 
 wrist. 
 
 "You've got lots o' spunk," said Bill, 
 coming out from behind the counter, "but 
 that ain't goin' to git you anywheres in per- 
 tic'ler in a case like this. You'd better set 
 down on that stool and think things over 
 and act more human." 
 
 Helen realized the truth of Talpers's 
 words. Anger was not going to get her any- 
 where. The black events of recent hours had 
 brought out resourcefulness which she never 
 
$6 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 suspected herself of having. Fortunately 
 Miss Scovill had been the sort to teach her 
 something of the realities of life. The Sco- 
 vill School for Girls might have had a larger 
 fashionable patronage if it had turned out 
 more graduates of the clinging- vine type of 
 femininity instead of putting independence 
 of thought and action as among the first 
 requisites. 
 
 "That letter does n't amount to so much 
 as you think," said Helen; "and, anyway, 
 suppose I swear on the stand that I never 
 wrote it?" 
 
 "You ain't the kind to swear to a lie," 
 replied Bill, and Helen flushed. "Besides, 
 it 's in your writin', and your name 's there, 
 and your Chinaman brought it here. You 
 can't git around them things." 
 
 "Suppose I tell my stepfather and he 
 comes here and takes the letter away from 
 you?" 
 
 Talpers sneered. 
 
 "He couldn't git that letter away from 
 me, onless we put it up as a prize in a Greek- 
 slingin' contest. Besides, he's too ornerv 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 57 
 
 to help out even his own kin. Why, I ain't 
 one tenth as bad as that stepfather of yourn. 
 He just talked poison into the ears of that 
 Injun wife of his until she died. I guess 
 mebbe by your looks you did n't know he 
 had an Injun wife, but he did. Since she 
 died — killed by inches — he 's had that 
 Chinaman doin' the work around the 
 ranch-house. I guess he can't make a dent 
 on the Chinese disposition, or he'd have 
 had Wong dead before this. If you stay 
 there any time at all, he'll have you in an 
 insane asylum or the grave. That's jest 
 the nature of the beast." 
 
 Talpers was waxing eloquent, because it 
 had come to him that his one great mission 
 in life was to protect this fine-looking girl 
 from the cruelty of her stepfather. An in- 
 explicable feeling crept into his heart ■ — • 
 the first kindly feeling he had ever known. 
 
 "It's a dum shame you did n't have any 
 real friends like me to warn you off before 
 you hit that ranch," went on Bill. "That 
 young agent who drove you over ought to 
 have told you, but all he can think of is 
 
58 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 pro tec tin 5 Injuns. Now with me it's dif- 
 ferent. I like Injuns all right, but white 
 folks comes first — especially folks that I 'm 
 interested in. Now you and me — " 
 
 Helen picked up her riding-whip. 
 
 "I can't hear any more to-day," she said. 
 
 Talpers followed her through the door 
 and out on the porch. 
 
 "All right," he remarked propitiatingly. 
 "This letter '11 keep, but mebbe not very 
 long." 
 
 In spite of her protests, he turned the 
 horse around for her, and held her stir- 
 rup while she mounted. His solicitousness 
 alarmed her more than positive enmity on 
 his part. 
 
 "By gosh! you're some fine-lookin' girl," 
 he said admiringly, his gaze sweeping over 
 her neatly clad figure. "There ain't ever 
 been a ridin'-rig like that in these parts. I 
 sure get sick of seein' these squaws bobbin' 
 along on their ponies. There's lots of 
 women around here that can ride, but I 
 never knowed before that the clothes 
 counted so much. Now you and me — ' 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 59 
 
 Helen struck the white horse with her 
 whip. As if by accident, the lash whistled 
 close to Bill Talpers's face, making him 
 give back a step in surprise. As the girl 
 rode away, Talpers looked after her, grin- 
 ning. 
 
 "Some spirited girl," he remarked. "And 
 I sure like spirit. But mebbe this letter I 've 
 got '11 keep her tamed down a little. Hey, 
 you Bear-in-the-Cloud and Red Star and 
 Crane — you educated sons o' guns settin' 
 around here as if you did n't know a word of 
 English — there ain't any spirits fermenti 
 on tap to-day, not a drop. It's gettin' 
 scarce and the price is goin' higher. Clear 
 out and wait till Jim McFann comes in to- 
 morrow. He may be able to find somethin' 
 that'l} cheer you up!" 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 Sheriff Tom Redmond was a veteran of 
 many ancient cattle trails. He had traveled 
 as many times from Texas to the Dodge 
 City and Abilene points of shipment as 
 some of our travelers to-day have journeyed 
 across the Atlantic — and he thought just 
 as little about it. More than once he had 
 made the trifling journey from the Rio 
 Grande to Montana, before the inventive 
 individual who supplied fences with teeth 
 had made such excursions impossible. Sher- 
 iff Tom had seen many war-bonneted Indi- 
 ans looming through the dust of trail herds. 
 Of the better side of the Indian he knew 
 little, nor cared to learn. But at one time 
 or another he had had trouble with Apache, 
 Comanche, Kiowa, Ute, Pawnee, Arapahoe, 
 Cheyenne, and Sioux. He could tell just 
 how many steers each tribe had cost his 
 employers, and how many horses were still 
 charged off against Indians in general. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 61 
 
 "I admit some small prejudice/ 5 said 
 Sheriff Tom in the course of one of his 
 numerous arguments with Walter Lowell. 
 "When I see old Crane hanging around 
 Bill Talpers's store, he looks to me jest like 
 the cussed Comanche that rose right out of 
 nowheres and scared me gray-headed when 
 I was riding along all peaceful-like on the 
 Picketwire. And that's the way it goes. 
 Every Injun I see, big or little, resembles 
 some redskin I had trouble with, back in 
 early days. The only thing I can think of 
 'em doing is shaking buffalo robes and run- 
 ning off live stock — not raising steers to 
 sell. I admit I 'm behind the procession. I 
 ain't ready yet to take my theology or my 
 false teeth from an Injun preacher or den- 
 tist." 
 
 Lowell preferred Sheriff Tom's outspoken- 
 ness to other forms of opposition and criti- 
 cism which were harder to meet. 
 
 "Some day," he said to the sheriff, "y° u 
 '11 fall in line, but meantime if you can get 
 rid of a pest like Bill Talpers for me, you'll 
 do more for the Indians than they could 
 
62 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 get out of all the new leases that might be 
 written." 
 
 "I've been working on Bill Talpers now 
 for ten years and I ain't been able to git 
 him to stick foot in a trap," was the sheriff's 
 reply. "But I think he's getting to a point 
 where he's all vain-like over the cunning 
 he's shown, and he'll cash himself in, hoss 
 and beaver, when he ain't expecting to.' 3 
 
 When the sheriff arrived at the agency, 
 with the warrant for Fire Bear in his 
 pocket, he found a string of saddle and pack 
 animals tied in front of the office, under 
 charge of two of the best cowmen on the 
 reservation, White Man Walks and Many 
 Coups. 
 
 "I'll have your car put in with mine, 
 Tom," said Lowell, who was dressed in 
 cowpuncher attire, even to leather chapa- 
 rejos. "I know you're always prepared for 
 riding. There 's a saddle horse out there for 
 you. We've some grub and a tent and 
 plenty of bedding, as we may be out several 
 days and find some rough going." 
 
 "I judge it ain't going to be any moon^ 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 63 
 
 light excursion on the Hudson, then, bring- 
 ing in this Injun," observed Redmond. 
 
 Lowell motioned to the sheriff to step 
 into the private office. 
 
 "Affairs are a little complicated/ 3 said 
 the agent, closing the door. "Plenty Buf- 
 falo has turned up something that makes it 
 look as if Jim McFann may know something 
 about the murder." 
 
 "What's Plenty Buffalo found?" 
 
 "He discovered a track made by a broken 
 shoe in that conglomeration of hoof marks 
 at the scene of the murder." 
 
 "Why did n't he say so at the time?" 
 
 "Because he wasn't sure that it pointed 
 to Jim McFann. But he'd been trailing 
 McFann for bootlegging and was pretty 
 sure Jim was riding a horse with a broken 
 shoe. He got hold of an Indian we can 
 trust — an Indian who stands pretty well 
 with McFann — and had him hunt till he 
 found Jim." 
 
 "Where was he?" 
 
 "McFann was hiding away up in the big 
 hills. What made him light out there no 
 
64 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 one knows. That looked bad on the face 
 of it. Then this Indian scout of ours, when 
 he happened in on Jim's camp, found that 
 McFann was riding a horse with a broken 
 shoe." 
 
 "Looks as if we ought to bring in the 
 half-breed, don't it?" 
 
 "Wait a minute. The broken shoe isn't 
 all. Those pieces of rope that were used to 
 tie that man to the stakes — they were cut 
 from a rawhide lariat." 
 
 "And Jim McFann uses that kind?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Do you know where McFann is hanging 
 out?" 
 
 "He may have moved camp, but we can 
 find him." 
 
 The sheriff frowned. Matters were get- 
 ting more complicated than he had thought 
 possible. From the first he had entertained 
 only one idea concerning the murder — 
 that Fire Bear had done the work, or that 
 some of the reckless spirits under the re- 
 bellious youth had slain in a moment of 
 bravado. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 65 
 
 "Well, it may be that McFann and Fire 
 Bear's crowd had throwed in together and 
 was all mixed up in the killing/ 5 remarked 
 the sheriff. "A John Doe warrant ought to 
 be enough to get everybody we want.' 1 
 
 'We can get anybody that's wanted,' 3 
 said Lowell, "but you must remember one 
 thing — you 're dealing with people who are 
 not used to legal procedure and who may 
 resent wholesale arrests." 
 
 "You'll take plenty of Injun police along, 
 I suppose." 
 
 "No — I 'm not even going to take Plenty 
 Buffalo. The whole police force and all the 
 deputies you might be able to swear in in a 
 week could n't bring in Fire Bear if he gave 
 the signal to the young fellows around him. 
 We're going alone, except for those two 
 Indians out there, who will just look after 
 camp affairs for us." 
 
 "I dunno but you're right," observed 
 Redmond after a pause, during which he 
 keenly scrutinized the young agent's face. 
 "Anyway, I ain't going to let it be said that 
 you've got more nerve than I have. Let 
 
66 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 the lead hoss go where he chooses — I '11 
 follow the bell." 
 
 "Another thing," said Lowell. "You're 
 on an Indian reservation. These Indians 
 have been looking to me for advice and 
 other things in the last four years. If it 
 comes to a point where decisive action has 
 to be taken — " 
 
 "You're the one to take it," interrupted 
 the sheriff. "From now on it 's your funeral. 
 I don't care what methods you use, so long 
 as I git Fire Bear, and mebbe this half- 
 breed, behind the bars for a hearing down 
 at White Lodge." 
 
 The men walked out of the office, and the 
 sheriff was given his mount. The Indians 
 swung the pack-horses into line, and the 
 men settled themselves in their saddles as 
 they began the long, plodding journey to 
 the blue hills in the heart of the reservation. 
 
 The lodges of Fire Bear and his followers 
 were placed in a circle, in a grove somber 
 enough for Druidical sacrifice. White cliffs 
 stretched high above the camp, with pine- 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 67 
 
 trees growing at all angles from the inter- 
 stices of rock. At the foot of the cliffs, and 
 on the green slope that stretched far below 
 to the forest of lodgepole pines, stood many 
 conical, tent-like formations of rock. They 
 were even whiter than the canvas tepees 
 which were grouped in front of them. At 
 any time of the day these formations were 
 uncanny. In time of morning or evening 
 shadow the effect upon the imagination was 
 intensified. The strange outcropping was 
 repeated nowhere else. It jutted forth, 
 white and mysterious — a monstrous tent- 
 ing-ground left over from the Stone Age. 
 As if to deepen the effect of the weird stage 
 setting, Nature contrived that all the winds 
 which blew here should blow mournfully. 
 The lighter breezes stirred vague whisper- 
 ings in the pine-trees. The heavy winds 
 wrought weird noises which echoed from 
 the cliffs. 
 
 Lowell had looked upon the Camp of the 
 Stone Tepees once before. There had been 
 a chase for a cattle thief. It was thought he 
 had hidden somewhere in the vicinity of the 
 
68 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 white semicircle, but he had not been found 
 there, because no man in fear of pursuit 
 could dwell more than a night in so ghostly 
 a place of solitude. 
 
 It had been late evening when Lowell had 
 first seen the Camp of the Stone Tepees. 
 He remembered the half-expectant way in 
 which he had paused, thinking to see a 
 white-clad priest emerge from one of the 
 shadowy stone tents and place a human vic- 
 tim upon one of the sacrificial tablets in the 
 open glade. It was early morning when 
 Lowell looked on the scene a second time. 
 He and the sheriff had made a daylight 
 start, leaving the Indians to follow with the 
 pack-horses. It was a long climb up the 
 slopes, among the pines, from the plains 
 below. The trail, for the greater part of the 
 way, had followed a stream which was none 
 too easy fording at the best, and which regu- 
 larly rose several inches every afternoon 
 owing to the daily melting of late snows in 
 the mountain heights. It was necessary to 
 cross and recross the stream many times. 
 Occasionally the horses floundered over 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 69 
 
 smooth rocks and were nearly carried away. 
 All four men were wet to the waist. Red- 
 mond, with memories of countless wider 
 and more treacherous fords crowding upon 
 him, merely jested at each new buffeting in 
 the stream. The Indians were concerned 
 only lest some pack-animal should fall in 
 midstream. Lowell, a good horseman and 
 tireless mountaineer, counted physical dis- 
 comfort as nothing when such vistas of de- 
 light were being opened up. 
 
 The giant horseshoe in the cliffs was in 
 semi-darkness when they came in sight of it. 
 Lowell was in the lead, and he turned his 
 horse and motioned to the sheriff to remain 
 hidden in the trees that skirted the glade. 
 The voice of a solitary Indian was flung 
 back and forth in the curve of the cliffs. His 
 back was toward the white men. If he heard 
 them, he made no sign. He was wrapped in 
 a blanket, from shoulders to heels, and was 
 in the midst of a long incantation, flung at 
 the beetling walls with their foot fringe of 
 stone tents. The tepees of the Indians were 
 hardly distinguishable from those which 
 
70 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 Nature had pitched on this world-old camp- 
 ing-ground. No sound came from the tents 
 of the Indians. Probably the "big medi- 
 cine" of the Indian was being listened to, 
 but those who heard made no sign. 
 
 " It 's Fire Bear," said Lowell, as the voice 
 went on and the echoes fluttered back from 
 the cliffs. 
 
 "He's sure making big medicine/ 3 re- 
 marked the sheriff. "They've picked one 
 grand place for a camp. By the Lord! it 
 even sort of gave me the shivers when I first 
 looked at it. What '11 we do?" 
 
 "Wait till he gets through," cautioned 
 Lowell. "They'd come buzzing out of those 
 tents like hornets if we broke in now, in all 
 probability." 
 
 The sheriff's face hardened. 
 
 "Jest the same, that sort of thing ought 
 to be stopped — all of it," he said. 
 
 "Do you stop every fellow that mounts a 
 soap box, or, what's more likely, stands up 
 on a street corner in an automobile and 
 makes a Socialist speech?' 
 
 "No — but that's different." 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 71 
 
 "Why is it? An Indian reservation is 
 just like a little nation. It has its steady- 
 goers, and it has its share of the shiftless, 
 and also it has an occasional Socialist, and 
 once in a while a rip-snorting Anarchist. 
 Fire Bear does n't know just what he is yet. 
 He's made some pretty big medicine and 
 made some prophecies that have come true 
 and have gained him a lot of followers, but 
 I can't see that it's up to me to stop him. 
 Not that I have any cause to love that In- 
 dian over there in that blanket. He's been 
 the cause of a lot of trouble. He's young 
 and arrogant. In a big city he would be 
 a gang-leader. The police and the courts 
 would find him a problem — and he's just 
 as much, or perhaps more, of a problem out 
 here in the wilds than he would be in town." 
 
 The sheriff made no reply, but watched 
 Fire Bear narrowlv. Soon the Indian ended 
 his incantations, and the tents of his follow- 
 ers began opening and blanketed figures 
 came forth. Lowell and the sheriff stepped 
 out into the glade and walked toward the 
 camp. The Indians grouped themselves 
 
72 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 about Fire Bear. There was something of 
 defiance in their attitude, but the white men 
 walked on unconcernedly, and, without any 
 preliminaries, Lowell told Fire Bear the ob- 
 ject of their errand. 
 
 "You're suspected of murdering that 
 white man on the Dollar Sign road,' 2 said 
 Lowell. c You and these young fellows with 
 you were around there. Now you 're wanted, 
 to go to White Lodge and tell the court just 
 what you know about things." 
 
 Fire Bear was one of the best-educated of 
 the younger generation of Indians. He had 
 carried off honors at an Eastern school, both 
 in his studies and athletics. But his haunts 
 had been the traders' stores when he re- 
 turned to the reservation. Then he became 
 possessed of the idea that he was a medi- 
 cine man. Fervor burned in his veins and 
 fired his speech. The young fellows who 
 had idled with him became his zealots. He 
 began making prophecies which mysteri- 
 ously worked out. He had prophesied a 
 flood, and one came, sweeping away many 
 lodges. When he and his followers were out 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 73 
 
 of food, he had prophesied that plenty 
 would come to them that day. It so hap- 
 pened that lightning that morning struck 
 the trace chain on a load of wood that was 
 being hauled down the mountain-side by 
 a white leaser. The four oxen drawing the 
 load were killed, and the white man gave 
 the beef to the Indians, on condition that 
 they would remove the hides for him. This 
 had sent Fire Bear's stock soaring and had 
 gained many recruits for his camp — even 
 some of the older Indians joining. 
 
 Lowell had treated Fire Bear lenientlv — 
 too lenientlv most of the white men near the 
 reservation had considered. With the In- 
 dians' religious ceremonials had gone the 
 usual dancing. An inspector from Washing- 
 ton had sent in a recommendation that the 
 dancing be stopped at once. Lowell had 
 received several broad hints, following the 
 inspector's letter, but he was waiting an 
 imperative order before stopping the danc- 
 ing, because he knew that any high-handed 
 interference just then would undo an in- 
 calculable amount of his painstaking work 
 
74 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 with the Indians. He had figured that he 
 could work personally with Fire Bear after 
 the young medicine man's first ardor in his 
 new calling had somewhat cooled. Then 
 had come the murder, with everything 
 pointing to the implication of the young 
 Indian, and with consequent action forced 
 on the agent. 
 
 A threatening circle surrounded the white 
 men in Fire Rear's camp. 
 
 ' ' Why did n't you bring the Indian police to 
 arrest me? " asked the young Indian leader. 
 
 "Because I thought you'd see things in 
 their right light and come," said Lowell. 
 
 Fire Bear thought a moment. 
 
 "Well, because you did not bring the 
 police, I will go with you," he said, i 
 
 "You don't have to tell us anything that 
 might be used against you," said the sheriff. 
 
 Fire Bear smiled bitterly. 
 
 "I've studied white man's law," he said. 
 
 Redmond rubbed his head in bewilder- 
 ment. Such words, coming from a blank- 
 eted Indian, in such primitive surround- 
 ings, passed his comprehension. Yet Lowell 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 75 
 
 thought, as he smiled at the sheriff's amaze- 
 ment, that it merely emphasized the queer 
 jumble of old and new on every reservation. 
 
 "I'll ask you to wait for me out there in 
 the trees," said Fire Bear. 
 
 Redmond hesitated, but the agent turned 
 at once and walked away, and the sheriff 
 finally followed. Fire Bear exhorted his fol- 
 lowers a few moments, and then disap- 
 peared in his tent. Soon he came out, 
 dressed in the "store clothes" of the ordi- 
 nary Indian. He joined Redmond and the 
 agent at the edge of the glade, and they 
 made their way toward the creek, no one 
 venturing to follow from the camp. At 
 the bottom of the slope they found the 
 Indian helpers with the horses. 
 
 "Fire Bear," said Lowell, as they paused 
 before starting out, "there's one thing more 
 I want of you. Help us to find Jim Mc- 
 Fann. He's as deep or deeper in this thing 
 than you are/' 
 
 "I know he is," replied Fire Bear, "but 
 it was n't for me to say so. I '11 help find him 
 for you." 
 
7 6 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 They had to fight to get Jim McFann. 
 They found the half-breed cooking some 
 bacon over a tiny fire, at the head of a gulch 
 that was just made for human concealment. 
 If it had not been for the good offices of Fire 
 Bear on the trail, they might have hunted 
 a week for their man. McFann had moved 
 camp several times since Plenty Buffalo had 
 located him. Each time he had covered his 
 tracks with surpassing care. 
 
 Lowell, according to prearranged plan, 
 had walked in upon McFann, with Red- 
 mond covering the half-breed, ready to 
 shoot in case a weapon was drawn. But 
 McFann merely made a headlong dive for 
 Lowell's legs, and there was a rough-and- 
 tumble fight about the camp-fire which was 
 settled only when the agent managed to get 
 a lock on his wiry opponent which pinned 
 McFann's back to the ground. 
 
 "You wouldn't fight that hard if you 
 thought you was being yanked up for a little 
 bootlegging, Jim," mused Tom Redmond, 
 pulling his long mustache. "You know 
 what we've come after you for, don't you? ' 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 77 
 
 McFann threshed about in another futile 
 attempt to escape, and cursed his captors 
 with gifts of expletive which came from two 
 races. 
 
 "It's on account of that tenderfoot that 
 was found on the Dollar Sign," growled Jim, 
 "but Fire Bear and his gang can't tell any 
 more on me than I can on them." 
 
 "That's the way to get at the truth,' 3 
 chuckled the sheriff triumphantly. "I guess 
 by the time you fellers are through with 
 each other we'll know who shot that man 
 and staked him down." 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 On the day following the incarceration of 
 Fire Bear and Jim McFann, Lowell rode 
 over to the scene of the murder on the Dol- 
 lar Sign road. 
 
 It seemed to the agent as if a fresh start 
 from the very beginning would do more 
 than anything else to put him on the trail 
 of a solution of the mystery. 
 
 Lowell was not inclined to accept Red- 
 mond's comfortable theory that either Fire 
 Bear or Jim McFann was guilty — or that 
 both were equally deep in the crime. Nor 
 did he assume that these men were not 
 guilty. It was merely that there were some 
 aspects of the case which did not seem 
 to him entirely convincing. Circumstantial 
 evidence pointed strongly to Fire Bear and 
 the half-breed, and this evidence might 
 prove all that was necessary to fasten the 
 crime upon the prisoners. In fact Redmond 
 was so confident that he prophesied a con- 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 79 
 
 fession from one or both of the men before 
 the time arrived for their hearing in court. 
 
 As Lowell approached Talpers's store, the 
 trader came out and hailed him. 
 
 "I hear Redmond's arrested Fire Bear 
 and Jim McFann," said Talpers. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, as far as public opinion goes, I 
 s'pose Tom has hit the nail on the head,' 3 
 observed Bill. "There's some talk right 
 now about lynchin' the prisoners. Folks 
 wouldn't talk that way unless the arrest 
 was pretty popular." 
 
 "That's Tom Redmond's lookout. He 
 will have to guard against a lynching." 
 
 Talpers stroked his beard and smiled re- 
 flectively. Evidently he had something on 
 his mind. His attitude was that of a man 
 concealing something of the greatest im- 
 portance. 
 
 "There's one thing sure," went on Bill. 
 "Jim McFann ain't any more guilty of a 
 hand in that murder than if he was n't within 
 a thousand miles of the Dollar Sign when 
 the thing happened." 
 
1 80 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "That will have to be proved in court." 
 
 "Well, as far as McFann 's concerned I 
 know Redmond 's barkin' up the wrong 
 tree." 
 
 "How do you know it?" 
 
 Talpers made a deprecating motion. 
 
 'Of course I don't know it absolutely. 
 It's jest what I feel, from bein' as well ac- 
 quainted with Jim as I am." 
 
 "Yes, you and Jim are tolerably close to 
 each other — everybody knows that. 52 
 
 Talpers shot a suspicious glance at the 
 agent, and then he reassumed his mysterious 
 grin. 
 
 "Where you goin' now?" he asked. 
 
 "Just up on the hill." 
 
 "I've been back there a couple of times," 
 sneered Bill, "but I couldn't find no notes 
 dropped by the murderer." 
 
 "Well, there's just one thing that's plain 
 enough now, Talpers,' 2 said Lowell grimly, 
 as he released his brakes. "While Jim 
 McFann is in jail a lot of Indians are going 
 to be thirsty, and your receipts for whiskey 
 are not going to be so big." 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 81 
 
 < Talpers scowled angrily and stepped 
 toward the agent. Lowell sat calmly in the 
 car, watching him unconcernedly. Then 
 Talpers suddenly turned and walked toward 
 the store, and the agent started his motor 
 and glided away. 
 
 Bill's ugly scowl did not fade as he 
 stalked into his store. Lowell's last shot 
 about the bootlegging had gone home. Tal- 
 pers had had more opposition from Lowell 
 than from any other Indian agent since the 
 trader had established his store on the 
 reservation line. In fact the young agent 
 had made whiskey-dealing so dangerous 
 that Talpers was getting worried. Lowell 
 had brought the Indian police to a state of 
 efficiency never before obtained. Bootleg- 
 ging had become correspondingly difficult. 
 Jim McFann had complained several times 
 about being too close to capture. Now he 
 was arrested on another charge, and, as 
 Lowell had said, Talpers's most profitable 
 line of business was certain to suffer. As 
 Bill walked back to his store he wondered 
 how much Lowell actually knew, and how 
 
82 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 much had been shrewd guesswork. The 
 young agent had a certain inscrutable air 
 about him, for all his youth, which was most 
 disturbing. 
 
 Talpers had not dared come out too 
 openly for McFann's release. He offered 
 bail bonds, which were refused. He had 
 managed to get a few minutes' talk with 
 McFann, but Redmond insisted on being 
 present, and all the trader could do was to 
 assure the half-breed that everything pos- 
 sible would be done to secure his release. 
 
 Bill's disturbed condition of mind van- 
 ished only when he reached into his pocket 
 and drew out the letter which indicated that 
 the girl at Mystery Ranch knew something 
 about the tragedy which was setting not 
 only the county but the whole State aflame. 
 Here was a trump card which might be 
 played in several different ways. The thing 
 to do was to hold it, and to keep his counsel 
 until the right time came. He thanked the 
 good fortune that had put him in possession 
 of the postmastership — an office which few 
 men were shrewd enough to use to their own 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 83 
 
 good advantage! Any common postmaster, 
 who could n't use his brains, would have 
 let that letter go right through, but that 
 wasn't Bill Talpers's way! He read the 
 letter over again, slowly, as he had done a 
 dozen times before. Written in a pretty 
 hand it was — handwriting befitting a dum 
 fine-lookin' girl like that! Bill's features 
 softened into something resembling a smile. 
 He put the letter back in his pocket, and his 
 expression was almost beatific as he turned 
 to wait on an Indian woman who had come 
 in search of a new shawl. 
 
 Talpers's attitude, which had been at 
 once cynical and mysterious, was the cause 
 of some speculation on Lowell's part as the 
 agent drove away from the trader's store. 
 Something had happened to put so much of 
 triumph in Talpers's face and speech, but 
 Lowell was not able to figure out just what 
 that something could be. He resolved to 
 keep a closer eye than customary on the 
 doings of the trader, but soon all thoughts 
 of everything save those concerned directly 
 with the murder were banished from his 
 
84 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 mind when he reached the scene of the 
 tragedy. 
 
 Getting out of his automobile, Lowell 
 went over the ground carefully. The grass 
 and even some of the sage had been trampled 
 down by the curious crowds that had flocked 
 to the scene. An hour's careful search re- 
 vealed nothing, and Lowell walked back to 
 his car, shaking his head. Apparently the 
 surroundings were more inscrutable than 
 ever. The rolling hills were beginning to 
 lose their green tint, under a hot sun, un- 
 relieved by rain. The last rain of the season 
 had fallen a day or so before the murder. 
 Lowell remembered the little pools he had 
 splashed through on the road, and the scat- 
 tered "wallows" of mud that had remained 
 on the prairie. Such places were now all 
 dry and caked. A few meadow-larks were 
 still singing, but even their notes would be 
 silenced in the long, hot days that were to 
 come. But the distant mountains, and the 
 little stream in the bottom of the vallev, 
 looked cool and inviting. Ordinarily Lowell 
 would have turned his machine toward the 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 85 
 
 line of willows and tried an hour or so of 
 fly-fishing, as there were plenty of trout in 
 the stream, but to-day he kept on along the 
 road over which he had taken Helen Ervin 
 to her stepfather's ranch. 
 
 As Lowell drove up in front of Willis Mor- 
 gan's ranch-house, he noticed a change for 
 the better in the appearance of the place. 
 Wong had been doing some work on the 
 fence, but had discreetly vanished when 
 Lowell came in sight. The yard had been 
 cleared of rubbish and a thick growth of 
 weeds had been cut down. 
 
 Lowell marveled that a Chinese should 
 be doing such work as repairing a fence, and 
 wondered if the girl had wrought all the 
 changes about the place or if it had been 
 done under Morgan's direction. 
 
 As if in answer, Helen Ervin came into 
 the yard with a rake in her hand. She gave 
 a little cry of pleasure at seeing Lowell. 
 
 "I'd have been over before, as I prom- 
 ised," said Lowell, "and in fact I had ac- 
 tually started when I had to make a long 
 trip to a distant part of the reservation."/^" 
 
S6 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "I suppose it was in connection with this 
 murder," she said. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Tell me about it. What bearing did 
 your trip have on it?" 
 
 Lowell was surprised at the intensity of 
 her question. 
 
 "Well, you see," he said, "I had to bring 
 in a couple of men who are suspected of 
 committing the crime. But, frankly, I 
 thought that in this quiet place you had not 
 so much as heard of the murder." 
 
 The girl smiled, but there was no mirth 
 in her eyes. 
 
 "Of course it is n't as if one had newsboys 
 shouting at the door," she replied, "but 
 we could n't escape hearing of it, even here. 
 Tell me, who are these men you have ar- 
 rested?" 
 
 " An Indian and a half-breed. Their tracks 
 were found at the scene of the murder.' 3 
 
 "But that evidence is so slight! Surely 
 they cannot — they may not be guilty.", 
 
 "If not, they will have to clear themselves 
 at the trial." 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 87 
 
 " Will they — will they be hanged if found 
 guilty?" 
 
 "They may be lynched before the trial. 
 There is talk of it now." 
 
 Helen made a despairing gesture. 
 
 "Don't let anything of that sort hap- 
 pen!" she cried. "Use all your influence. 
 Get the men out of the country if you can. 
 But don't let innocent men be slain." 
 
 Lowell attempted to divert her mind to 
 other things. He spoke of the changed ap- 
 pearance of the ranch. 
 ;: " Your coming has made a great difference 
 here," he said. "This does n't look like the 
 place where I left you not many days ago." 
 
 Helen closed her eyes involuntarily, as if 
 to blot out some vision in her memory. 
 
 "That terrible night!" she exclaimed. 
 
 She paused, and Lowell looked at her in 
 surprise and alarm. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked. "Is there any- 
 thing wrong — anything I can do to help 
 you?" 
 
 "No," she said. " Truly there is not, now. 
 
88 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 But there was. It was only the recollection 
 of my coming here that made me act so 
 queerly." 
 
 "Look here," said Lowell bluntly, 'is 
 that stepfather of yours treating you all 
 right? To put it frankly, he has n't a very 
 good reputation around here. I've often 
 regretted not telling you more when I 
 brought you over here. But you know how 
 people feel about minding their own affairs. 
 It's a foolish sort of reserve that keeps 
 us quiet when we feel that we should 
 speak." 
 
 No, I'm treated all right," said the girl. 
 It was just homesickness for my school, 
 I guess, that worked on me when I first came 
 here. But I can't get over |the recollection 
 of that night you brought me to this place. 
 Everything seemed so chilling and desolate 
 — and dead ! And then those few days that 
 followed!" 
 
 She buried her face in her hands a mo- 
 ment, and then said, quietly: 
 
 "Did you know that my stepfather had 
 married an Indian woman?" 
 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 89 
 
 "Yes. Do you mean that you didn't 
 know?" 
 
 "No, I did n't know." 
 
 "What a fool I was for not telling you 
 these things!" exclaimed Lowell. "I might 
 have saved you a lot of humiliation." 
 
 "You could have saved me more than 
 humiliation. He told me all about her — 
 the Indian woman. He laughed when he 
 told me. He said he was going to kill me 
 as he had killed her — by inches." 
 
 Lowell grew cold with horror. 
 
 "But this is criminal!" he declared. "Let 
 me take you away from this place at once. 
 I '11 find some place where you can go — 
 back to my mother's home in the East." 
 
 "No, it's all right now. I'm in no dan- 
 ger, and I can't leave this place. In fact I 
 don't want to," said the girl, putting her 
 hand on Lowell's arm. 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me that he treated 
 you so fiendishly during the first few days, 
 and then suddenly changed and became the 
 most considerate of relatives?" 
 
 "I tell you I am being treated all right 
 
9 o MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 now. I merely told you what happened at 
 first — part of the cruel things he said — 
 because I could n't keep it all to myself 
 any longer. Besides, that Indian woman — 
 poor little thing ! — is on my mind all the 
 time." 
 
 "Then you won't come away?" 
 
 "No — he needs me." 
 
 "Well, this beats anything I ever heard 
 of — " began Lowell. Then he stopped after 
 a glance at her face. She was deathly pale. 
 Her eyes were unnaturally bright, and her 
 hands trembled. It seemed to him that the 
 school-girl he had brought to the ranch 
 a few days before had become a woman 
 through some great mental trial. 
 
 "Come and see, or hear, for yourself,' 2 
 said Helen. 
 
 Wonderingly, Lowell stepped into the 
 ranch-house kitchen. Helen pointed to the 
 living-room. 
 
 Through the partly open door, Lowell 
 caught a glimpse of an aristocratic face, 
 surmounted by gray hair. A white hand 
 drummed on the arm of a library chair 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 91 
 
 which contained pillows and blankets. From 
 the room there came a voice that brought 
 to Lowell a sharp and disagreeable memory 
 of the cutting voice he had heard in false 
 welcome to Helen Ervin a few days before. 
 Only now there was querulous insistence in 
 the voice — the insistence of the sick person 
 who calls upon some one who has proved 
 unfailing in the performance of the tasks of 
 the sick-room. 
 
 Helen stepped inside the room and closed 
 the door. Lowell heard her talking sooth- 
 ingly to the sick man, and then she came 
 out. 
 
 "You have seen for yourself/ 3 she said. 
 
 Lowell nodded, and they stepped out 
 into the yard once more. 
 
 "I'll leave matters to your own judg- 
 ment," said Lowell, "only I'm asking two 
 things of you. One is to let me know if 
 things go wrong, and the other isn't quite 
 so important, but it will please me a lot. 
 It's just to go riding with me right now.' 3 
 
 Helen smilingly assented. Once more she 
 was the girl he had brought over from the 
 
92 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 agency. She ran indoors and spoke a few 
 words to Wong, and came out putting on her 
 hat. 
 
 They drove for miles toward the heart 
 of the Indian reservation. The road had 
 changed to narrow, parallel ribbons, with 
 grass between. Cattle, some of which be- 
 longed to the Indians and some to white 
 leasers, were grazing in the distance. Oc- 
 casionally they could see an Indian habita- 
 tion — generally a log cabin, with its ugli- 
 ness emphasized by the grace of a flanking 
 tepee. Everything relating to human affairs 
 seemed dwarfed in such immensity. The 
 voices of Indian herdsmen, calling to each 
 other, were reduced to faint murmurs. The 
 very sound of the motor seemed blanketed. 
 
 Lowell and the girl traveled for miles in 
 silence. He shrewdly suspected that the in- 
 finite peace of the landscape would prove 
 the best tonic for her overwrought mind. 
 His theory proved correct. The girl leaned 
 back in the seat, and, taking off her hat, 
 enjoyed to the utmost the rush of the breeze 
 and the swift changes in the great panorama. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 93 
 
 "It isn't any wonder that the Indians 
 fought hard for this country, is it?' asked 
 Lowell. "It's all too big for one's compre- 
 hension at first, especially when you've 
 come from brick walls and mere strips of 
 sky, but after you've become used to it 
 you can never forget it." 
 
 "I'd like to keep right on going to those 
 blue mountains," said the girl. "It's won- 
 derful, but a bit appalling, to a tenderfoot 
 such as I am. I think we'd better go 
 back." 
 
 Lowell drove in a circuitous route instead 
 of taking the back trail. Just after they 
 had swung once more into the road near the 
 ranch, they met a horseman who proved to 
 be Bill Talpers. The trader reined his horse 
 to the side of the road and motioned to 
 Lowell to stop. Bill's grin was bestowed 
 upon the girl, who uttered a little exclama- 
 tion of dismay when she established the 
 identity of the horseman. 
 
 "I jest wanted to ask if you found any- 
 thing up there," said Bill, jerking his thumb 
 toward the road over which he had just 
 
94 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 ridden. It was quite plain that Talpers had 
 been drinking. 
 
 "Maybe I did, and maybe not, Bill,' 3 
 answered Lowell disgustedly. "Anyway, 
 what about it?" 
 
 "Jest this," observed Bill, talking to 
 Lowell, but keeping his gaze upon Helen. 
 "Sometimes you can find letters where you 
 don't expect the guilty parties to leave 'em. 
 Mebbe you ain't lookin' in the right place 
 for evidence. How-de-do, Miss Ervin? I'm 
 goin' to drop in at the ranch and see you 
 and your stepfather some day. I ain't been 
 very neighborly so far, but it's because 
 business has prevented.'' 
 
 Lowell started the car, and as they darted 
 away he looked in astonishment at the girl. 
 Her pallor showed that once more she was 
 under great mental strain. It came to 
 Lowell in a flash that Bill's arrogance sprang 
 from something deeper than mere conceit or 
 drunkenness. Undoubtedly he had set out 
 deliberately to terrorize the girl, and had 
 succeeded. Lowell waited for some remark 
 from Helen, but none came. He kept back 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 95 
 
 the questions that were on the tip of his 
 tongue. Aside from a few banalities, they 
 exchanged no words until Lowell helped her 
 from the car at the ranch. 
 
 "I want to tell you,' 5 said Lowell, "that 
 I appreciate such confidence as you have 
 reposed in me. I won't urge you to tell more 
 but I'm going to be around in the offing, 
 and, if things don't go right, and especially 
 if BillTalpers— " 
 
 There was so much terror in the girl's 
 eyes that Lowell's assurances came to a 
 lame ending. She turned and ran into the 
 house, after a fluttering word of thanks for 
 the ride, and Lowell, more puzzled than 
 ever, drove thoughtfully away. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 White Lodge was a town founded on ex- 
 citement. Counting its numerous shootings 
 and consequent lynchings, and proportion- 
 ing them to its population, White Lodge had 
 experienced more thrills than the largest 
 of Eastern cities. Some ribald verse-writer, 
 seizing upon White Lodge's weakness as a 
 theme, had once written: 
 
 We can put the card deck by us, 
 We can give up whiskey straight; 
 
 Though we ain't exactly pious, , 
 We can fill the parson's plate; 
 
 We can close the gamblin' places, . 
 We can save our hard-earned coin, 
 
 BUT we want a man for breakfast 
 In the mor-r-rnin'. 
 
 But of course such lines were written in 
 early days, and for newspaper consumption 
 in a rival town. White Lodge had grown 
 distinctly away from its wildness. It had 
 formed a Chamber of Commerce which en- 
 tered bravely upon its mission as a lode- 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 97 
 
 stone for the attraction of Eastern capital. 
 But the lure of adventurous days still re- 
 mained in the atmosphere. Men who were 
 assembled for the purpose of seeing what 
 could be done about getting a horseshoe- 
 nail factory for White Lodge wound up the 
 session by talking about the days of the 
 cattle and sheep war. All of which was nat- 
 ural, and would have taken place in any 
 town with White Lodge's background of 
 stirring tradition. 
 
 Until the murder on the Dollar Sign 
 road there had been little but tradition for 
 White Lodge to feed on. The sheriff's job 
 had come to be looked upon as a sinecure. 
 But now all was changed. Not only Wliite 
 Lodge, but the whole countryside, had some- 
 thing live to discuss. Even old Ed Halsey, 
 who had not been down from his cabin in 
 the mountains for at least five years, 
 ambled in on his ancient saddle horse to 
 get the latest in mass theory. 
 
 So far as theorizing was concerned, opin- 
 ion in White Lodge ran all one way. The 
 men who had been arrested were guilty, 
 
9 8 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 so the local newspaper assumed, echoing 
 side-walk conversation. The only questions 
 were: Just how was the crime committed, 
 and how deeply was each man implicated? 
 Also, were there any confederates? Some of 
 the older cattlemen, who had been shut out 
 of leases on the reservation, were even heard 
 to hint that in their opinion the whole tribe 
 might have had a hand in the killing. Any- 
 way, Fire Bear's cohorts should be rounded 
 up and imprisoned without delay. 
 
 Lowell was not surprised to find that he 
 had been drawn into the vortex of unfriend- 
 liness. More articles and editorials ap- 
 peared in the "White Lodge Weekly Star," 
 putting the general blame for the tragedy 
 upon the policy of "coddling" the Indians. 
 
 "The whole thing," wound up one edi- 
 torial, "is the best kind of an argument for 
 throwing open the reservation to white 
 settlement." 
 
 "That is the heart of the matter as it 
 stands," said Lowell, pointing out the edi- 
 torial to his chief clerk. "This murder is to 
 be made the excuse for a big drive on Con- 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 99 
 
 gress to have the reservation thrown open." 
 "Yes," observed Rogers, "the big cattle- 
 men have been itching for another chance 
 since their last bill was defeated in Congress. 
 They remind me of the detective concern 
 that never sleeps, only they might better get 
 in a few honest, healthy snores than waste 
 their time the way they have lately.' 1 
 
 Lowell paid no attention to editorial crit- 
 icism, but it was not easy to avoid hearing 
 some of the personal comment that was 
 passed when he visited White Lodge. In 
 fact he found it necessary to come to blows 
 with one cowpuncher, who had evidently 
 been stationed near Lowell's automobile to 
 'get the goat' of the young Indian agent. 
 The encounter had been short and decisive. 
 The cowboy, who was the hero of many 
 fistic engagements, passed some comment 
 which had been elaborately thought out at 
 the camp-fire, and which, it was figured by 
 his collaborators, "would make anything 
 human fight or quit." 
 
 "That big cowpuncher from Sartwell's 
 outfit sure got the agent's goat all right,' 3 
 
ioo MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 said Sheriff Tom Redmond, in front of 
 whose office the affair happened. "That is to 
 say, he got the goat coming head-on, horns 
 down and hoofs striking fire. That young 
 feller was under the cowpuncher's arms in 
 jest one twenty-eighth of a second, and there 
 was only two sounds that fell on the naked 
 ear — one being the smack when Lowell 
 hit and the other the crash when the cow- 
 puncher lit. If that rash feller 'd taken the 
 trouble to send me a little note of inquiry in 
 advance, I could have told him to steer 
 clear of a man who tied into a desperate 
 man the way that young agent tied into 
 Jim McFann out there on the reservation. 
 But no public or private warnings are going 
 to be necessary now. From this time on, 
 young Lowell's going to have more berth- 
 room than a wildcat." 
 
 Such matters as cold nods from former 
 friends were disregarded by Lowell. He had 
 been through lesser affairs which had 
 brought him under criticism. In fact he 
 knew that a certain measure of such in- 
 justice would be the portion of any man 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 101 
 
 who accepted the post of agent. He went 
 his way, doing what he could to insure a 
 fair trial for both men, and at the same time 
 not overlooking anything that might shed 
 new light on a case which most of the resi- 
 dents of White LoSge seemed to consider 
 as closed, all but the punishment to be 
 meted out to the prisoners. 
 
 The hearing was to be held in the little 
 court-room presided over by Judge Garford, 
 who had been a figure at Vigilante trials in 
 early days and who was a unique personi- 
 fication of kindliness and firmness. Both 
 prisoners had refused counsel, nor had any 
 confession materialized, as Tom Redmond 
 had prophesied. McFann had spent most 
 of his time cursing all who had been con- 
 cerned in his arrest. Talpers had called on 
 him again, and had whispered mysteriously 
 through the bars: 
 
 "Don't worry, Jim. If it comes to a 
 showdown, I '11 be there with evidence that '11 
 clear you flyin'." 
 
 As a matter of fact, Talpers intended to 
 play a double game. He would let matters 
 
102 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 drift, and see if McFann did not get off in 
 the ordinary course of events. Meantime 
 the trader would use his precious possession, 
 the letter written by Helen Ervin, to terrify 
 the girl. In case the girl proved defiant, 
 why, then it would be time to produce the 
 letter as a law-abiding citizen should, and 
 demand that the searchlight of justice be 
 turned on the author of a missive apparently 
 so directly concerned with the murder. If 
 it so happened that the letter in his hands 
 proved to be a successful weapon, and if 
 Bill Talpers were accepted as a suitor, he 
 Would let the matter drop, so far as the 
 authorities were concerned — and Jim Mc- 
 Fann could drop with it. If the half-breed 
 were to be sacrificed when a few words from 
 Bill Talpers might save him, so much the 
 worse for Jim McFann! The affairs of Bill 
 Talpers were to be considered first of all, 
 and there was no need of being too solicitous 
 over the welfare of any mere cat's-paw like 
 the half-breed. 
 
 If Jim McFann had known what was 
 passing in the mind of the trader, he would 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 103 
 
 have torn his way out of jail with his bare 
 hands and slain his partner in bootlegging. 
 But the half-breed took Talpers's fair words 
 at face value and faced his prospects with a 
 trifle more of equanimity. 
 
 Fire Bear continued to view matters with 
 true Indian composure. He had made no 
 protestations of innocence, and had told 
 Lowell there was nothing he wanted except 
 to get the hearing over with as quickly as 
 possible. The young Indian, to Lowell's 
 shrewd eye, did not seem well. His actions 
 were feverish and his eyes unnaturally 
 bright. At Lowell's request, an agency doc- 
 tor was brought and examined Fire Bear. 
 His report to Lowell was the one sinister 
 word : * ' Tuberculosis ! ' ' 
 
 When the men were brought into the 
 court-room a miscellaneous crowd had as- 
 sembled. Cowpunchers from many miles 
 away had ridden in to hear what the Indian 
 and "breed" had to say for themselves. 
 The crowd even extended through the open 
 doors into the hallway. Late comers, who 
 could not get so much as standing room, 
 
104 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 draped themselves upon the stairs and about 
 the porch and made eager inquiry as to the 
 progress of affairs. 
 
 Helen Ervin rode in to attend the hearing, 
 in response to an inner appeal against which 
 she had struggled vainly. She met Lowell 
 as she dismounted from the old white horse 
 in front of the court-house. Lowell had 
 called two or three times at the ranch, fol- 
 lowing their ride across the reservation. He 
 had not gone into the house, but had merely 
 stopped to get her assurance that everything 
 was going well and that the sick man was 
 steadily progressing toward convalescence. 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me you were com- 
 ing over?" asked Lowell. "I would have 
 brought you in my machine. As it is, I must 
 insist on taking you back. I'll have Plenty 
 Buffalo lead your pony back to the ranch 
 when he returns t*> the agency." 
 
 "I could n't help coming," said Helen. 
 "I have a feeling that innocent men are go- 
 ing to suffer a great injustice. Tell me, do 
 you think they have a chance of going free? ' 
 
 "They may be held for trial," said Lowell. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 105 
 
 "No one knows what will be brought up 
 either for or against them in the meantime. 55 
 
 "But they should not spend so much as a 
 day in jail," insisted Helen. "They — ,: 
 
 Here she paused and looked over Lowell's 
 shoulder, her expression changing to alarm. 
 The agent turned and beheld Bill Talpers 
 near them, his gaze fixed on the girl. Tal- 
 pers turned away as Lowell escorted Helen 
 upstairs to the court-room, where he secured 
 a seat for her. 
 
 As the prisoners were brought in Helen 
 recognized the unfriendliness of the gen- 
 eral attitude of White Lodge toward them. 
 Hostility was expressed in cold stares and 
 whispered comment. 
 
 The men afforded a contrasting picture. 
 Fire Bear's features were pure Indian. His 
 nose was aquiline, his cheek-bones high, and 
 his eyes black and piercing, the intensity of 
 their gaze being emphasized by the fever 
 which was beginning to consume him. His 
 expression was martial. In his football days 
 the "fighting face" of the Indian star had 
 often appeared on sporting pages. He sur- 
 
106 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 veyed the crowd in the court-room with calm 
 indifference, and seldom glanced at the gray- 
 bearded, benign-looking judge. 
 
 Jim McFann, on the contrary, seldom 
 took his eyes from the judge's face. Jim was 
 not so tall as Fire Bear, but was of wiry, 
 athletic build. His cheek-bones were as high 
 as those of the Indian, but his skin was 
 lighter in color, and his hair had a tendency 
 to curl. His sinewy hands were clenched on 
 his knees, and his moccasined feet crossed 
 and uncrossed themselves as the hearing 
 progressed. 
 
 Each man testified briefly in his own be- 
 half, and each, in Helen's opinion, told a 
 convincing story. Both admitted having 
 been on the scene of the crime. Jim McFann 
 was there first. The half-breed testified 
 that he had been looking for a rawhide lariat 
 which he thought he had dropped from his 
 saddle somewhere along the Dollar Sign 
 road the day before. He had noticed an 
 automobile standing in the road, and had 
 discovered the body staked down on the 
 prairie. In answer to a question, McFann 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 107 
 
 admitted that the rope which had been cut 
 in short lengths and used to tie the mur- 
 dered man to the stakes had been the lariat 
 for which he had been searching. He was 
 alarmed at this discovery, and was about 
 to remove the rope from the victim's ankles 
 and wrists, when he had descried a body of 
 horsemen approaching. He had thought 
 the horsemen might be Indian police, and 
 had jumped on his horse and ridden away, 
 making his way through a near-by gulch 
 and out on the prairie without being de- 
 tected. 
 
 "Why were you so afraid of the Indian 
 police?" was asked. 
 
 The half-breed hesitated a moment, and 
 then said: 
 
 "Bootlegging." 
 
 There was a laugh in the court-room at 
 this — a sharp, mirthless laugh which was 
 checked by the insistent sound of the bailiff's 
 gavel. 
 
 Jim McFann sank back in his chair, livid 
 with rage. In his eyes was the look of the 
 snarling wild animal — the same look that 
 
108 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 had flashed there when he sprang at Lowell 
 in his camp. He motioned that he had 
 nothing more to say. 
 
 Fire Bear's testimony was as brief. He 
 said that he and a company of his young 
 men — perhaps thirty or forty — all mounted 
 on ponies, had taken a long ride from the 
 camp where they had been making medicine. 
 The trip was in connection with the medi- 
 cine that was being made. Fire Bear and his 
 young men had ridden by a circuitous route, 
 and had left the reservation at the Greek 
 Letter Ranch on the same morning that 
 McFann had found the slain man's body. 
 They had intended riding along the Dollar 
 Sign road, past Talpers's and the agency, 
 and back to their camp. But on the big hill 
 between Talpers's and the Greek Letter 
 Ranch they had found the automobile stand- 
 ing in the road, and a few minutes later had 
 found the body, just as McFann had de- 
 scribed it. They had not seen any trace of 
 McFann, but had noticed the tracks of a 
 man and pony about the automobile and 
 the body. The Indians had held a quick 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 109 
 
 consultation, and, on the advice of Fire 
 Bear, had quit the scene suddenly. It was 
 the murder of a white man, off the reserva- 
 tion. It was a case for white men to settle. 
 If the Indians were found there, they might 
 get in trouble. They had galloped across 
 the prairie to their camp, by the most direct 
 way, and had not gone on to Talpers's nor 
 to the agency. 
 
 Helen expected both men to be freed at 
 once. To her dismay, the judge announced 
 that both would be held for trial, without 
 bail, following perfunctory statements from 
 Plenty Buffalo, Walter Lowell, and Sheriff 
 Tom Redmond, relating to later events in 
 the tragedy. As in a dream Helen saw some 
 of the spectators starting to leave and Red- 
 mond's deputy beckon to his prisoners, 
 when Walter Lowell rose and asked per- 
 mission to address the court in behalf of the 
 Government's ward, Fire Bear. 
 
 Lowell, in a few words, explained that 
 further imprisonment probably would be 
 fatal to Fire Bear. He produced the certi- 
 ficate of the agency physician, showing that 
 
no MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 the prisoner had contracted tuberculosis. 
 
 "If Fire Bear will give me his Word of 
 honor that he will not try to escape," said 
 the agent, "I will guarantee his appearance 
 on the day set for his trial." 
 
 A murmur ran through the court-room, 
 quickly hushed by the insistent gavel. 
 
 Lowell had been reasonably sure of his 
 ground before he spoke. The venerable 
 judge had always been interested in the work 
 at the agency, and was a close student of 
 Indian tradition and history. The request 
 had come as^a surprise, but the court hesi- 
 tated only a moment, and then announced 
 that, if the Government's agent on the 
 reservation would be responsible for the 
 delivery of the prisoner for trial, the defend- 
 ant, Fire Bear, would be delivered to said 
 agent's care. The other defendant, being 
 in good health and not being a ward of the 
 Government, would have to stand com- 
 mitted to jail for trial. 
 
 Fire Bear accepted the news with out- 
 ward indifference. Jim McFann, with his 
 hands tightly clenched and the big veins 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 1 1 1 
 
 on his forehead testifying to the rage that 
 burned within him, was led away between 
 Redmond and his deputy. There was a 
 shuffling of feet and clinking of spurs as men 
 rose from their seats. A buzz came from the 
 crowd, as distinctly hostile as a rattler's 
 whirr. Words were not distinguishable, but 
 the sentiment could not have been any more 
 distinctly indicated if the crowd had shouted 
 in unison. 
 
 * 
 
 Judge Garford rose and looked in a fa- 
 therly way upon the crowd. At a motion 
 from him the bailiff rapped for attention. 
 The judge stroked his white beard and said 
 softly: 
 
 "Friends, there is some danger that ex- 
 citement may run away with this commu- 
 nity. The arm of the law is long, and I want 
 to say that it will be reached out, without 
 fear or favor, to gather in any who may at- 
 tempt in any way to interfere with the 
 administration of justice." 
 
 To Helen it seemed as if the old, heroic 
 West had spoken through this fearless giant 
 of other days. There was no mistaking the 
 
ii2 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 meaning that ran through that quietly 
 worded message. It brought the crowd up 
 with a thrill of apprehension, followed by- 
 honest shame. There was even a ripple of 
 applause. The crowd started once more to 
 file out, but in different mood. Some of the 
 more impetuous, who had rushed downstairs 
 before the judge had spoken, were hustled 
 away from the agent's automobile, around 
 which they had grouped themselves threat- 
 eningly. 
 
 "The judge means business," one old- 
 timer said in an awe-stricken voice. "That 's 
 the way he looked and talked when he 
 headed the Vigilantes' court. He '11 do what 
 he says if he has to hang a dozen men." 
 
 When Lowell and Helen came out to 
 the automobile, followed by Fire Bear, the 
 court-house square was almost deserted. 
 Fire Bear climbed into the back seat, at 
 Lowell's direction. He was without mana- 
 cles. Helen occupied the seat beside the 
 driver. As they drove away, she caught a 
 glimpse of Judge Garford coming down the 
 court-house steps. He was engaged in tell- 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 113 
 
 ing some bit of pioneer reminiscence — 
 something broadly pleasant. His face was 
 smiling and his blue eyes were twinkling. 
 He looked almost as any grandparent might 
 have looked going to join a favorite grand- 
 child at a park bench. Yet here was a man 
 who had torn aside the veil and permitted 
 one glimpse at the old, inspiring West. 
 
 Helen turned and looked at him again, as, 
 in an earlier era, she would have looked at 
 Lincoln. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 The stage station at White Lodge was a 
 temporary center of public interest every 
 afternoon at three o'clock when Charley 
 Hicks drove the passenger bus in from 
 Quaking-Asp Grove. After a due inspec- 
 tion of the passengers the crowd always 
 shifted immediately to the post-office to 
 await the distribution of mail. 
 
 A well-dressed, refined -looking woman of 
 middle age was among the passengers on the 
 second day after the hearing of Fire Bear 
 and Jim McFann. She had little or nothing 
 to say on the trip — perhaps for the reason 
 that speech would have been difficult on 
 account of the monopolizing of the conver- 
 sation by the other passengers. These in- 
 cluded two women from White Lodge, one 
 rancher from Antelope Mesa, and two drum- 
 mers who were going to call on White Lodge 
 merchants. The conversation was unusu- 
 ally brisk and ran almost exclusively on the 
 murder. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 115 
 
 Judge Garford's action in releasing Fire 
 Bear on the agent's promise to produce the 
 prisoner in court was the cause of consider- 
 able criticism. The two women, the ranch- 
 man, and one of the drummers had voted 
 that too much leniency was shown. The 
 other drummer appealed to the stage-driver 
 to support his contention that the court's 
 action was novel, but entirely just. 
 
 "Well, all I can say is," remarked the 
 driver, "that if that Injun shows up for 
 trial, as per his agreement, without havin' 
 to be sent for, it's goin' to be a hard les- 
 son for the white race to s waller. You can 
 imagine how much court 'd be held if all 
 white suspects was to be let go on their word 
 that they'd show up for trial. Detectives 
 'd be chasin' fugitives all over the universe. 
 If that Injun shows up, I'll carry the hull 
 reservation anywheres, without tickets, if 
 they'll promise to pay me at the end of 
 the trip." 
 
 The driver noticed that the quiet lady in 
 the back seat, though taking no part in the 
 conversation, seemed to be a keenly in- 
 
n6 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 terested listener. No part of the discussion 
 of the murder escaped her, but she asked no 
 questions. On alighting at White Lodge, 
 she asked the driver where she could get a 
 conveyance to take her to Willis Morgan's 
 ranch. 
 
 The driver looked at her in such astonish- 
 ment that she repeated her question. 
 
 "I 'd 'a' plum forgot there was such a man 
 in this part of the country,' 5 said Charley, 
 "if it had n't 'a' been that sometime before 
 this here murder I carried a young woman 
 — a stepdaughter of his 'n — and she asked 
 me the same question. I don't believe you 
 can hire any one to take you out there, but 
 I '11 bet I can get you took by the same young 
 feller that took this girl to the ranch. He's 
 the Indian agent, and I seen him in his car 
 when we turned this last corner.'' 
 
 Followed by his passenger the driver 
 hurried back to the corner and hailed Walter 
 Lowell, who was just preparing to return to 
 the agency. 
 
 On having matters explained, Lowell ex- 
 pressed his willingness to carry the lady 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 117 
 
 passenger over to the ranch. Her suitcase 
 was put in the automobile, and soon they 
 were on the outskirts of White Lodge. 
 
 "I ought to explain," said the agent's 
 passenger, "that my name is Scovill — • 
 Miss Sarah Scovill — and Mr. Morgan's 
 stepdaughter has been in my school for 
 years." 
 
 "I know," said Lowell. "I've heard her 
 talk about your school, and I 'm glad you 're 
 going out to see her. She needs you.' 2 
 
 Miss Scovill looked quickly at Lowell. 
 She was one of those women whose beauty 
 is only accentuated by gray hair. Her brow 
 and eyes were serene — those of a dreamer. 
 Her mouth and chin were delicately mod- 
 eled, but firm. Their firmness explained, 
 perhaps, why she was executive head of a 
 school instead of merely a teacher. Not all 
 her philosophy had been won from books. 
 She had traveled and observed much of life 
 at first hand. That was why she could keep 
 her counsel — why she had kept it during 
 all the talk on the stage, even though that 
 talk had vitally interested her. She showed 
 
n8 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 the effects of her long, hard trip, but would 
 not hear of stopping at the agency for 
 supper. 
 
 'If you don't mind — if it is not alto- 
 gether too much trouble to put you to — 
 I must go on," she said. "I assure you it's 
 very important, and it concerns Helen 
 Ervin, and I assume that you are her 
 friend." 
 
 Lowell hastened his pace. It all meant 
 that it would be long past the supper hour 
 when he returned to the agency, but there 
 was an appeal in Miss Scovill's eyes and 
 voice which was not to be resisted. Any- 
 way, he was not going to offer material re- 
 sistance to something which was concerned 
 with the well being of Helen Ervin. 
 
 They sped through the agency, past Tal- 
 pers's store, and climbed the big hill just 
 as the purples fell into their accustomed 
 places in the hollows of the plain. As they 
 bowled past the scene of the tragedy, Lowell 
 pointed it out, with only a brief word. His 
 passenger gave a little gasp of pain and 
 horror. He thought it was nothing more 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 119 
 
 than might ordinarily be expected under 
 such circumstances, but, on looking at Miss 
 Scovill, he was surprised to see her leaning 
 back against the seat, almost fainting. 
 
 "By George!" said Lowell contritely, "I 
 should n't have mentioned it to you.' : 
 
 He slowed down the car, but Miss Scovill 
 sat upright and recovered her mental poise, 
 though with evident effort. 
 
 " I 'm glad you did mention it," she said, 
 looking back as if fascinated. "Only, you 
 see, I 'd been hearing about the murder most 
 of the day in the stage, and then this place 
 is so big and wide and lonely! Please don't 
 think I'm foolish." 
 
 "It's all because you're from the city and 
 have n't proportioned things as yet," said 
 Lowell. "Now all this loneliness seems 
 kindly, to me. It's only crowds that seem 
 cruel. I often envy trappers dying alone 
 in such places. Also I can understand why 
 the Indians wanted nothing better in death 
 than to have their bodies hoisted high atop 
 of a hill, with nothing to disturb." 
 
 As they rounded the top of the hill and 
 
120 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 the road came up behind them like an in- 
 verted curtain, Miss Scovill gave one last 
 backward look. Lowell saw that she was 
 weeping quietly, but unrestrainedly. He 
 drove on in silence until he pulled the auto- 
 mobile up in front of the Morgan ranch. 
 
 "You'll find Miss Ervin here," said 
 Lowell, stepping out of the car. 'This is the 
 Greek Letter Ranch." 
 
 If the prospect brought any new shock to 
 Miss Scovill, she gave no indication of the 
 fact. She answered Lowell steadily enough 
 when he asked her when he should call for 
 her on her return trip. 
 
 "My return trip will be right now/ 3 she 
 said. "I've thought it all out — just what 
 I'm to do, with your help. Please don't 
 take my suitcase from the car. Just turn 
 the car around, and be ready to take us 
 back to-night — I mean Helen and myself. 
 I intend to bring her right out and take her 
 away from this place." 
 
 Wonderingly Lowell turned the car as she 
 directed. Miss Scovill knocked at the ranch- 
 house door. It was opened by Wong, and 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 121 
 
 Miss Scovill stepped inside. The door closed 
 again. Lowell rolled a cigarette and smoked 
 it, and then rolled another. He was about 
 to step out of the car and knock at the 
 ranch-house door when Helen and [Miss 
 Scovill came out, each with an arm about 
 the other's waist. 
 
 Miss ScovhTs face looked whiter than ever 
 in the moonlight. 
 
 "Something has happened," she said — 
 "something that makes it impossible for me 
 to go back — for Helen to go back with me 
 to-night. If you can come and get me in the 
 morning, I'll go back alone. J! 
 
 Lowell's amazement knew no bounds. 
 Miss Scovill had made this long journey 
 from San Francisco to get Helen — evi- 
 dently to wrest her at once away from this 
 ranch of mystery — and now she was going 
 back alone, leaving the girl among the very 
 influences she had intended to combat. 
 
 "Please, Mr. Lowell, do as she says," in- 
 terposed Helen, whose demeanor was grave, 
 but whose joy at this meeting with her 
 teacher and foster mother shone in her eyes. 
 
122 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "Yes, yes — you'll have our thanks all 
 through vour life if vou will take me back 
 to-morrow and say nothing of what you 
 have seen or heard," said Miss Scovill. 
 
 Lowell handed Miss Scovill's suitcase to 
 the silent Wong, who had slipped out behind 
 the women. 
 
 "I'm only too glad to be of service to you 
 in any way," he said. "I'll be here in the 
 morning early enough so you can catch the 
 stage out of White Lodge." 
 
 Much smoking on the way home did not 
 clear up the mystery for Lowell. Nor did 
 sitting up and weighing the matter long 
 after his usual bedtime bring him any nearer 
 to answering the questions: Why did Miss 
 Scovill come here determined to take Helen 
 Ervin back to San Francisco with her? Why 
 did Miss Scovill change her mind so com- 
 pletely after arriving at Morgan's ranch? 
 Also why did said Miss Scovill betray such 
 unusual agitation on passing the scene of 
 the murder on the Dollar Sign road — a 
 murder that she had been hearing discussed 
 from all angles during the day? 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 123 
 
 This last question was intensified the next 
 morning, when, with Helen in the back seat 
 with Miss Scovill, Lowell drove back to 
 White Lodge. When they passed the scene 
 of the murder, Lowell took pains to notice 
 that Miss Scovill betrayed no signs of men- 
 tal strain. Yet only a few hours before she 
 had been completely unnerved at passing 
 by this same spot. 
 
 The women talked little on the trip to 
 White Lodge. What talk there was between 
 them was on school matters — mostly remi- 
 niscences of Helen's school-days. Lowell 
 could not help thinking that they feared to 
 talk of present matters — that something 
 was weighing them down and crushing them 
 into silence. But they parted calmly enough 
 at White Lodge. After the stage had gone 
 with Miss Scovill, Helen slipped into the 
 seat beside Lowell and chatted somewhat 
 as she had done during their first journey 
 over the road. 
 
 As for Lowell, he dismissed for the mo- 
 ment all thoughts of tragedy and mystery 
 from his mind, and gave himself up to the 
 
i2 4 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 enjoyment of the ride. They stopped at the 
 agency, and Helen called on some of the 
 friends she had made on her first journey 
 through. Lowell showed her about the 
 grounds, and she took keen interest in all 
 that had been done to improve the condi- 
 tion of the Indians. 
 
 "Of course the main object is to induce 
 the Indian to work,'" said Lowell. "The 
 agency is simply an experimental plant to 
 show him the right methods. It was hard 
 for the white man to leave the comfortable 
 life of the savage and take up work. The 
 trouble is that we're expecting the Indian 
 to acquire in a generation the very things 
 it took us ages to accept. That's why I 
 have n't been in too great a hurry to shut 
 down on dances and religious ceremonies, 
 The Indian has had to assimilate too much, 
 as it is. It seems to me that if he makes 
 progress slowly that is about all that can 
 be expected of him," 
 
 "It seems to me that saving the Indian 
 from extermination, as all this work is help- 
 ing to do, is among the greatest things in 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 125 
 
 the world," said Helen. "The sad thing to 
 me is that these people seem so remote from 
 all help. The world forgets so easily what 
 it can't see." 
 
 "Yes, there are no newspapers out here 
 to get up Christmas charity drives, and 
 there are few volunteer settlement workers, 
 to be called on for help at any time. And 
 there are no charity balls for the Indian. 
 It is n't that he wants charity so much as 
 understanding." 
 
 "Understanding often comes quickest 
 through charity," interposed Helen. "It 
 seems to me that no one could ask a better 
 life-work than to help these people." 
 
 "There's more to them than the world 
 has been willing to concede,' 5 declared 
 Lowell. 'I never have subscribed to Park- 
 man's theory that the Indian's mind moves 
 in a beaten track and that his soul is dor- 
 mant. The more I work among them the 
 more respect I have for their capabilities." 
 
 Further talk of Indian affairs consumed 
 the remainder of the trip. Lowell was an 
 enthusiast in his work, though he seldom 
 
126 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 talked of it, preferring to let results speak 
 for themselves. But he had found a ready 
 and sympathetic listener. Furthermore, he 
 wished to take the girl's mind from the mat- 
 ters that evidently were proving such a 
 weight. He succeeded so well that not 
 until they reached the ranch did her trou- 
 bled expression return. 
 
 "Tell me," said Lowell, as he helped her 
 from the automobile, is "he — is Morgan 
 better, and is he treating you all right?' 
 
 "Yes, to both questions," said she. Then, 
 after a moment's hesitation, she added: 
 "Come in. Perhaps it will be possible for 
 you to see him." 
 
 Lowell stepped into the room that served 
 as Morgan's study. One wall was lined 
 with books, Greek predominating. Helen 
 knocked at the door of the adjoining room, 
 and there came the clear, sharp, cynical 
 voice that had aroused all the antagonism 
 in Lowell's nature on his first visit. 
 
 "Come in, come in!" called the voice, as 
 cold as ice crystals. 
 
 Helen entered, and closed the door. The 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 127 
 
 voice could be heard, in different modula- 
 tions, but always with profound cynicism as 
 its basis. 
 
 Lowell, with a gesture of rage, stepped to 
 the library table. He picked up a volume of 
 Shakespeare's tragedies, and noticed that 
 all references to killing and to bloodshed 
 in general had been blotted out. Passage 
 after passage was blackened with heavy 
 lines in lead pencil. In astonishment, Lowell 
 picked up another volume and found that the 
 same thing had been done. Then the door 
 opened and he heard the cutting voice say: 
 
 "Tell the interesting young agent that I 
 am indisposed. I have never had a social 
 caller within my doors here, and I do not 
 wish to start now." 
 
 Helen came out and closed the door. 
 , "You heard?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes," replied Lowell. "It's all right. 
 I 'm only sorry if my coming has caused you 
 any additional pain or embarrassment. I 
 won't ask you again what keeps you in an 
 atmosphere like this, but any time you want 
 to leave, command me on the instant." 
 
128 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 f " Please don't get our talk back where it 
 was before," pleaded Helen, as they stepped 
 out on the porch and Lowell said good-bye. 
 "I've enjoyed the ride and the talk to-day 
 because it all took me away from myself and 
 from this place of horrors. But I can't leave 
 here permanently, no matter how much I 
 might desire it." 
 
 "It's all going to be just as you say," 
 Lowell replied. "Some day I'll see through 
 it all, perhaps, but right now I 'm not trying 
 very hard, because some way I feel that you 
 don't want me to." 
 
 She shook hands with him gratefully, and 
 Lowell drove slowly back to the agency, not 
 forgetting his customary stop at the scene 
 of the murder — a stop that proved fruitless 
 as usual. 
 
 When he entered the agency office, Lowell 
 was greeted with an excited hail from Ed 
 Kogers. 
 
 "Here's news!" exclaimed the chief clerk. 
 "Tom Redmond has telephoned over that 
 Jim McFann has broken jail." 
 
 "How did he get away?" 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 129 
 
 "Jim had been hearing all this talk about 
 lynching. It had been coming to him, bit 
 by bit, in the jail, probably passed on by the 
 other prisoners, and it got him all worked 
 up. It seems that the jailer's kid, a boy 
 about sixteen years old, had been in the 
 habit of bringing Jim's meals. Also the kid 
 had a habit of carrying Dad's keys around, 
 just to show off. Instead of grabbing his 
 soup, Jim grabbed the kid by the throat. 
 Then he made the boy unlock the cell door 
 and Jim slipped out, gagged the kid, and 
 walked out of the jail. He jumped on a 
 cowboy's pony in front of the jail, and was 
 gone half an hour before the kid, who had 
 been locked in Jim's cell, managed to at- 
 tract attention. Tom Redmond wants you 
 to get out the Indian police, because he's 
 satisfied Jim has skipped to the reservation 
 and is hiding somewhere in the hills.' 1 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 "That there girl down at the Greek Let- 
 ter Ranch is the best-lookin' girl in these 
 parts. I was goin 1 to slick up and drop 
 around to see her, but this here Injun agent 
 got in ahead of me. A man with nothin' but 
 a cowpony don't stand a show against a 
 feller with an auto when it comes to callin' 
 on girls these days." 
 
 The nasal, drawling voice of Andy Wol- 
 ters, cowpuncher for one of the big leasing 
 outfits on the Indian reservation, came to 
 the ears of Bill Talpers as the trader sat 
 behind his post-office box screen, scowling 
 out upon a sunshiny world. 
 
 A chorus of laughter from other cow- 
 punchers greeted the frank declaration of 
 Mr. Wolters. 
 
 "Agent or no agent, you would n't stand 
 a show with that girl," chimed in one of the 
 punchers. "The squaw professor 'd run you 
 through the barb-wire fence so fast that 
 
( MYSTERY RANCH 131 
 
 you'd leave hide and clothes stickin' to it. 
 Willis Morgan ain't ever had a visitor on his 
 place sence he run the Greek Letter brand 
 on his first steer. ' ! 
 
 "Well, he ain't got any more steers left. 
 That old white horse is all the stock I see 
 of his — anyways, it 's all that 's carryin' 
 that pitchfork brand." 
 
 "You know what they say about how old 
 Morgan got that pitchfork brand, don't 
 you? — how he was huntin' through the 
 brand book one night, turnin' the pages over 
 and cussin' because nothin' seemed to suit 
 his fancy, when all of a sudden there was a 
 bright light and a strong smell of sulphur, 
 and the devil himself was right there at 
 Morgan's side. 'Use this for a brand,' says 
 the devil, and there was the mark of his pitch- 
 fork burnt on Morgan's front door, right 
 where you'll see it to-day if you ever want 
 to go clost enough." 
 
 "Anyway, git that out of your head about 
 Morgan's ranch never havin' any visitors," 
 said another cowboy. "This here Injun 
 agent's auto runs down there reg'lar. Must 
 
i 3 2 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 be that he 's a kind of a Trilby and has got 
 old Morgan hypnotized." 
 
 "Aw, you mean a Svengali." 
 
 "I bet you these spurs against a package 
 of smokin' tobacco I know what I mean," 
 stoutly asserted the cowpuncher whose lit- 
 erary knowledge had been called in ques- 
 tion, and then the talk ran along the familiar 
 argumentative channels that had no interest 
 for Bill Talpers. 
 
 The trader looked back into the shadowy 
 depths of his store. Besides the cow T boys 
 there were several Indians leaning against 
 the counters or sitting lazily on boxes and 
 barrels. Shelves and counters were piled 
 with a colorful miscellany of goods calcu- 
 lated to appeal to primitive tastes. There 
 were bright blankets and shawls, the latter 
 greedily eyed by every Indian woman who 
 came into the store. There were farming 
 implements and boots and groceries and 
 harness. In the corner where Bill Talpers 
 sat was the most interesting collection of all. 
 This corner was called the pawnshop. Here 
 Bill paid cash for silver rings and bracelets, 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 133 
 
 and for turquoise and other semi-precious 
 stones either mounted or in the rough. 
 Here he dickered for finely beaded moc- 
 casins and hat-bands and other articles 
 for which he found a profitable market in 
 the East. Here watches were put up for 
 redemption, disappearing after they had 
 hung their allotted time. 
 
 Traders on the reservation were not per- 
 mitted to have such corners in their stores, 
 but Bill, being over the line, drove such 
 bargains as he pleased and took such security 
 as he wished. 
 
 As Bill looked over his oft-appraised 
 stock, it seemed to have lost much of its one- 
 time charm. Storekeeping for a bunch of 
 Indians and cowpunchers was no business 
 for a smart, self-respecting man to be in — 
 a man who had ambitions to be somebody 
 in a busier world. The thing to do was to 
 sell out and clear out — after he had married 
 that girl at Morgan's ranch. He had been 
 too lenient with that girl, anyway. Here he 
 held the whip-hand over her and had never 
 used it. He had been waiting from day to 
 
134 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 day, gloating over his opportunities, and 
 this Indian agent had been calling on her 
 and maybe was getting her confidence. 
 
 Maybe it had gone so far that the girl 
 had told Lowell about the letter she had 
 mailed and that Bill had held up. Some- 
 thing akin to a chill moved along Bill's spinal 
 column at the thought. But of course such 
 a thing could not be. The girl couldn't 
 afford to talk about anything like that let- 
 ter, which was certain to drag her into the 
 murder. 
 
 Bill looked at the letter again and then 
 tucked it back in the safe. That was the 
 best place to keep it. It might get lost out 
 of his pocket and then there 'd be the very 
 devil to pay. He knew it all by heart, any- 
 way. It was enough to give him what he 
 wanted — this girl for a wife. She simply 
 could n't resist, with that letter held over 
 her by a determined man like Bill Talpers. 
 After he had married her, he 'd sell out this 
 pile of junk and let somebody else haggle 
 with the Injuns and cowpunchers. Bill Tal- 
 pers 'd go where he could wear good clothes 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 135 
 
 every day, and his purty wife'd hold up her 
 head with the best of them! He'd go over 
 and state his case that very night. He 'd lay 
 down the law right, so this girl at Morgan's 
 'd know who her next boss was going to 
 be. If Willis Morgan tried to interfere, Bill 
 Talpers 'd^ crush him just the way he'd 
 crushed many a rattler! 
 
 As a preliminary to his courting trip, Bill 
 took a drink from a bottle that he kept 
 handy in his corner. Then he walked out 
 to his sleeping-quarters in the rear of the 
 store and "slicked up a bit," during which 
 process he took several drinks from another 
 bottle which was stowed conveniently there. 
 
 Leaving his store in charge of his clerk, 
 Bill rode over the Dollar Sign highway 
 toward Morgan's ranch. The trader was 
 dressed in black. A white shirt and white 
 collar fairly hurt theVye, being in such sharp 
 contrast with Bill's dark skin and darker 
 beard. A black hat, wide of brim and care- 
 fully creased, replaced the nondescript felt 
 affair which Bill usually wore. He donned 
 the best pair of new boots that he could 
 
136 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 select from his stock. They hurt his feet 
 so that he swung first one and then the 
 other from the stirrups to get relief. There 
 was none to tell Bill that his broad, power- 
 ful frame looked better in its everyday 
 habiliments, and he would not have be- 
 lieved, even if he had been told. He had 
 created a sensation as he had creaked 
 through the store after his dressing-up 
 operations had been completed, and he in- 
 tended to repeat the thrill when he burst 
 upon the vision of the girl at Morgan's. 
 
 Wong had cleared away the supper dishes 
 at the Greek Letter Ranch, and had silently 
 taken his way to the little bunkhouse which 
 formed his sleeping-quarters. 
 
 In the library a lamp glowed. A gray- 
 haired man sat at the table, bowed in 
 thought. A girl, sitting across from him, 
 was writing. Outside was the silence of the 
 prairie night, broken by an occasional bird 
 call near by. 
 
 "It is all so lonely here, I wonder how 
 you can stand it," said the man. There was 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 137 
 
 deep concern in his voice. All sharpness 
 had gone from it. 
 
 "It is all different, of course, from the 
 country in which I have been living, and it 
 is lonely, but I could get used to it soon if 
 it were not for this pall — - " 
 
 Here the girl rose and went to the open 
 window. She leaned on the sill and looked 
 out. 
 
 The man's gaze followed her. She was 
 even more attractive than usual, in a house 
 dress of light color, her arms bare to the 
 elbows, and her pale, expressive face limned 
 against the black background of the night. 
 
 "I know what you would say," replied 
 the man. "It would be bearable here — 
 in fact, it might be enjoyable were it not 
 for the black shadow upon us. Rather it is 
 a shadow which is blood-red instead of 
 black." 
 
 His voice rose, and excitement glowed 
 in his deep-set, clear gray eyes. His face 
 lost its pallor, and his well-shaped, yet 
 strong hands clutched nervously at the 
 arms of his chair. 
 
i 3 8 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 The girl turned toward him soothingly, 
 when both paused and listened. 
 
 "It is some Indian going by," said the 
 man, as hoof-beats became distinct. 
 
 "The Indians don't ride this late. Be- 
 sides, no Indian would stop here." 
 
 The man stepped to an adjoining room. 
 As he disappeared, there came the sound 
 of footfalls on the porch and Bill Talpers's 
 heavy knock made the front door panels 
 shake. 
 
 The girl hesitated a moment, and then 
 opened the door. The trader walked in 
 without invitation, his new boots squeaking 
 noisily. If he had expected any exhibition 
 of fear on the part of the girl, Talpers was 
 mistaken. She looked at him calmly, and 
 Bill shifted uneasily from one foot to an- 
 other as he took off his hat. 
 
 "I thought I'd drop in for a little social 
 call, seein' as you ain't called on me sence 
 our talk about that letter," said Bill, seating 
 himself at the table. 
 
 "It was what I might have expected," 
 replied the girl. 
 
1 MYSTERY RANCH 139 
 
 "That's fine," said Bill amiably. "I'm 
 tickled to know that you expected me." 
 
 "Yes, knowing what a coward you are, I 
 thought you would come." 
 
 Talpers flushed angrily, and then grinned, 
 until his alkali-cracked lips glistened in the 
 lamplight. 
 
 "That's the spirit!" he exclaimed. "I 
 never seen a more spunky woman, and 
 that 's the kind I like. But there ain't many 
 humans that can call me a coward. I guess 
 you don't know how many notches I've 
 got on the handle of this forty-five, do you? ' 
 he asked, touching the gun that swung in a 
 holster at his hip under his coat. "Well, 
 there's three notches on there, and that 
 don't count an Injun I got in a fair fight. I 
 don't count any coups unless they're on 
 white folks." 
 
 "I'm not interested in your record of 
 bloodshed.'' The girl's voice was low, but 
 it stung Bill to anger. 
 
 "Yes, you are," he retorted. "You're 
 goin' to be mighty proud of your husband's 
 record. You'll be glad to be known as the 
 
i 4 o MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 wife of Bill Talpers, who never backed down 
 from no man. That's what I come over 
 here for, to have you say that you'll marry 
 me. If you don't say it, I'll have to give 
 that letter over to the authorities at White 
 Lodge. It sure would be a reg'lar bombshell 
 in the case right now." 
 
 The trader's squat figure, in his black 
 suit, against the white background made 
 by the lamp, made the girl think of a huge, 
 grotesque blot of ink. His broad, hairy 
 hand rested on the table. She noticed the 
 strong, thick fingers, devoid of flexibility, 
 yet evidently of terrific strength. 
 
 "Now you and me," went on Talpers, 
 "could get quietly married, and I could sell 
 this store of mine for a good figger, and I 'd 
 be willin' to move anywheres you want 
 — San Francisco, or Los Angeles, or San 
 Diego, or anywheres. And I could burn up 
 that letter, and there need n 't nobody know 
 that the wife of Bill Talpers was mixed up 
 in the murder that is turnin' this here State 
 upside down. Furthermore, jest to show you 
 that Bill Talpers is a square sort, I won't 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 141 
 
 ever ask you myself jest how deep and how 
 wide you're in this murder, nor why you 
 wrote that letter, nor what it was all about. 
 Ain't that fair enough?" 
 
 The girl laughed. 
 
 "It's too fair," she said. "I can't believe 
 you'd hold to such a bargain." 
 
 "You try me and see," urged Bill. "AH 
 you've got to do is to say you'll marry me.' 3 
 
 "Well, I'll never say it." 
 
 "Yes, you will," huskily declared Bill, 
 putting his hat on the table. "You'll say 
 it right here, to-night. Your stepfather's 
 sick, I hear. If he was feelin' his best he 
 would n 't be more 'n a feather in my way — 
 not more'n that Chinaman of yours. I've 
 got to have your word to-night, or, by 
 cripes, that letter goes to White Lodge ! ' 
 
 The girl was alarmed. She was colorless 
 as marble, but her eyes were defiant. Tam- 
 pers advanced toward her threateningly, 
 and she retreated toward the door which 
 opened into the other room. Bill swung 
 her aside and placed himself squarely in 
 front of the door, his arms outspread. 
 
142 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "No hide and seek goes," he said. "You 
 stay in this room till you give me the right 
 
 answer.'' 
 
 The girl ran toward the door opening into 
 the kitchen. Talpers ran after her, clumsily 
 but swiftly. The girl saw that she was going 
 to be overtaken before reaching the door, 
 and dodged to one side. The trader missed 
 his grasp for her, and pitched forward, the 
 force of his fall shaking the cabin. He struck 
 his head against a corner of the table, and 
 lay unconscious, spread out in a broad help- 
 lessness that made the girl think once more 
 of spilled ink. 
 
 The white-haired man stood in the door- 
 way to the other room. He held a revolver, 
 with which he covered Talpers, but the 
 trader did not move. The white-haired 
 man deftly removed Talpers's revolver from 
 its holster and put it on the table. Then he 
 searched the trader's pockets. 
 
 "I'm glad I didn't have to shoot this 
 swine," he said to the girl. "Another sec- 
 ond and it would have been necessary. 
 The letter is n't here, but you can frighten 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 143 
 
 him with these trinkets — his own revolver 
 and this watch which evidently he took 
 from the murdered man on the hill. You 
 know what else of Edward Sargent's be- 
 longings were taken." 
 li The girl nodded. 
 
 "He will recover soon," went on the gray- 
 haired man. "You will be in no further 
 danger. He will be glad to go when he sees 
 what evidence you have against him.' 2 
 
 The white-haired man had taken a watch 
 from one of Talpers's pockets. He put the 
 timepiece on the table beside the trader's 
 revolver. Then the door to the adjoining 
 room closed again, and the girl was alone 
 with the trader waiting for him to recover 
 consciousness. 
 
 Soon Bill Talpers sat up. His hand went 
 to his head and came away covered with 
 blood. The world was rocking, and the girl 
 at the table looked like half a dozen shapes 
 in one. 
 
 " This is your own revolver pointed at you, 
 Mr. Talpers," she said, "but this watch on 
 the table, by which you will leave this house 
 
i 4 4 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 in three minutes, is not yours. It belonged 
 once to Edward B. Sargent, and you are the 
 man who took it." 
 
 Talpers tried to answer, but could not at 
 once. 
 
 "You not only took this watch," said the 
 girl slowly, "but you took money from that 
 murdered man." 
 
 "It's all a lie," growled Bill at last. 
 
 "Wait till you hear the details. You took 
 twenty-eight hundred dollars in large bills, 
 and three hundred dollars in smaller bills.' 3 
 
 Talpers looked at the girl in mingled 
 terror and amazement. Guilt was in his 
 face, and his fears made him forget his 
 aching head. 
 
 "You kept this money and did not let 
 your half-breed partner in crime know you 
 had found it," went on the girl. "Also you 
 kept the watch, and, as it had no mark of 
 identification, you concluded you could 
 safely wear it." 
 
 Talpers struggled dizzily to his feet. 
 
 "It's all lies," he repeated. "I didn't 
 kill that man." 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 145 
 
 "You might find it hard to convince a 
 jury that you did not, with such evidence 
 against you." 
 
 The trader looked at the watch as if he 
 intended to make a dash to recover it, but 
 the girl kept him steadily covered with his 
 own revolver. Muttering curses, and sway- 
 ing uncertainly on his feet, Talpers seized 
 his hat and rushed from the house. He 
 could be heard fumbling with the reins at 
 the gate, and then the sound of hoofs came 
 in diminuendo as he rode away. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 In his capacity of Indian agent Walter 
 Lowell often had occasion to scan the busi- 
 ness deals of his more progressive wards. 
 He was at once banker and confidant of 
 most of the Indians who were getting ahead 
 in agriculture and stock-raising. He did 
 not seek such a position, nor did he dis- 
 courage it. Though it cost him much extra 
 time and work, he advised the Indians when- 
 ever requested. 
 
 One of the reservation's most prosperous 
 stock-raisers, who had been given permis- 
 sion to sell off some of his cattle, came to 
 Lowell with a thousand-dollar bill, asking 
 if it were genuine. 
 
 "It's all right,' 3 said Lowell, "but where 
 did you get it?" 
 
 The Indian said he had received it from 
 Bill Talpers in the sale of some live-stock. 
 Lowell handed it back without comment, 
 but soon afterward found occasion to call 
 on Bill Talpers at the trader's store. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 147 
 
 Bill had been a frequent and impartial 
 visitor to the bottles that were tucked away 
 at both ends of his store. His hands and 
 voice were shaky. His hat was perched well 
 forward on his head, covering a patch of 
 court-plaster which his clerk had put over a 
 scalp wound, following a painful process of 
 hair-cutting. Bill had just been through 
 the process of "bouncing' Andy Wolters, 
 who remained outside, expressing wonder 
 and indignation to all who called. 
 
 "All I did was ask Bill where his favorite 
 gun was gone," quoth Andy in his nasal 
 voice, as Lowell drove up to the store plat- 
 form. "I never seen Bill without that gun 
 before in my life. I jest started to kid him 
 a little by askin' him who took it away from 
 him, when he fired up and thro wed me out 
 of the store." 
 
 Lowell stepped inside the store. 
 'Bill,' 5 said Lowell, as the trader rose 
 from his chair behind the screen of letter- 
 boxes, "I want you to help me out in an 
 important matter." 
 
 Bill's surprise showed in his swollen face. 
 
148 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "It's this," went on Lowell. "If any of 
 the Indians bring anything here to pawn 
 outside of the usual run of turquoise jewelry 
 and spurs, I want you to let me know. Also 
 if they offer any big bills in payment for 
 goods — say anything like a thousand-dollar 
 bill — just give me the high sign, will you? 
 It may afford a clue in this murder case." 
 
 Talpers darted a look of suspicion at the 
 agent. Lowell's face was serene. He was 
 leaning confidentially across the counter, 
 and his eyes met Bill's in a look that made 
 the trader turn away. 
 
 'You know," said Lowell, "it's quite 
 possible that money and valuables were 
 taken from Sargent's body. To be sure, 
 they found his checkbook and papers, but 
 they would n't be of use to any one else. 
 A man of Sargent's wealth must have had 
 considerable ready cash with him, and yet 
 none was found. He would hardly be likely 
 to start out on a long trip across country 
 without a watch, and yet nothing of the 
 sort was discovered. That's why I thought 
 that if any Indians came in here with large 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 149 
 
 amounts of money, or if they tried to pawn 
 valuables which might have belonged to a 
 man in Sargent's position, you could help 
 clear up matters." 
 
 Hatred and suspicion were mingled in 
 Talpers's look. The trader had spent most 
 of his hours, since his return from Morgan's 
 ranch, cursing the folly that had led him 
 into wearing Sargent's watch. And now came 
 this young Indian agent, with talk about 
 thousand-dollar bills. There was another 
 mistake Bill had made. He should have 
 taken those bills far away and had them 
 exchanged for money of smaller denomina- 
 tion. But he had been hard-pressed for 
 cash, and suspicion seemed to point in such 
 convincing fashion toward Fire Bear and 
 the other Indians that it did not seem pos- 
 sible that it could be shifted elsewhere. Yet 
 all his confidence had been shaken when 
 Helen Ervin had calmly and correctly re- 
 counted to him the exact things that he 
 had taken from that body on the hill. Prob- 
 ably she had been talking to the agent and 
 had told him all she knew. 
 
150 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "I know what you're drivin' at," snarled 
 Bill, his rage getting the better of his judg- 
 ment. "You've been talkin' to that girl at 
 Morgan's ranch, and she's been tellin' you 
 all she thinks she knows. But she'd better 
 go slow with all her talk about valuables 
 and thousand-dollar bills. She forgets that 
 she's as deep in this thing as anybody and 
 I've got the document to prove it.' 2 
 
 The surprise in the Indian agent's face 
 was too genuine to be mistaken. Talpers 
 realized that he had been betrayed into 
 overshooting his mark. The agent had 
 been engaged in a little game of bluff, and 
 Talpers had fallen into his trap. 
 
 "All this is mighty interesting to me, 
 Bill," said Lowell, regaining his composure. 
 "I just dropped in here, hoping for a little 
 general cooperation on your part, and here 
 I find that you know a lot more than any- 
 body imagined." 
 
 "You ain't got anything on me," growled 
 Bill, "and if you go spillin' any remarks 
 around here, it's your death-warrant sure.'' 
 
 Lowell did not take his elbow from the 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 151 
 
 counter. His leaning position brought out 
 the breadth of his shoulders and emphasized 
 the athletic lines of his figure. He did not 
 seem ruffled at Bill's open threat. He re- 
 garded Talpers with a steady look which 
 increased Bill's rage and fear. 
 
 "The trouble with you is that you're so 
 dead set on protectin' them Injuns of yours," 
 said the trader, "that you're around try in' 
 to throw suspicion on innocent white folks. 
 The hull county knows that Fire Bear done 
 that murder, and if you hadn't got him 
 on to the reservation the jail 'd been busted 
 into and he'd been lynched as he ought to 
 have been." 
 
 Bill waited for an answer, but none came. 
 The young agent's steady, thoughtful scru- 
 tiny was not broken. 
 
 "You've coddled them Injuns ever sence 
 you've been on the job," went on Bill, cast- 
 ing aside discretion, "and now you're en- 
 couragin' them in downright murder. Here 
 this young cuss, Fire Bear, is traipsin' 
 around as he pleases, on nothin' more than 
 his word that he'll appear for trial. But 
 
152 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 when Jim McFann busts out of jail, you 
 rush out the hull Injun police force to run 
 him down. And now here you are around, 
 off the reservation, tryin' to saddle suspi- 
 cion on your betters. It ain't right, I claim. 
 Self-respectin' white men ought to have 
 more protection around here." 
 
 Talpers's voice had taken on something of a 
 whine, and Lowell straightened up in disgust. 
 
 "Bill," he said, "you are n't as much of a 
 man as I gave you credit for being, and 
 what's more you've been in some crooked 
 game, just as sure as thousand-dollar bills 
 have four figures on them." 
 
 Paying no attention to the imprecations 
 which Talpers hurled after him, the agent 
 went back to his automobile and turned 
 toward the agency. He had intended going 
 on to the Greek Letter Ranch, but Talpers's 
 words had caused him to make a change in 
 his plans. At the agency he brought out a 
 saddle horse, and, following a trail across 
 the undulating hills on the reservation, 
 reached the wagon-road below the ranch, 
 without arousing Talpers's suspicion. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 153 
 
 As he tied his pony at the gate, Lowell 
 noticed further improvement in the general 
 appearance of the ranch. 
 
 "Somebody more than Wong has been 
 doing this heavy work," he said to Helen, 
 who had come out to greet him. "It must 
 be that Morgan — your stepfather is well 
 enough to help. Anyway, the ranch looks 
 better every time I come." 
 
 "Yes, he is helping some," said Helen 
 uneasily. "But I'm getting to be a first- 
 rate ranch- woman. I had no idea it was so 
 much fun running a place like this." 
 
 "I came over to see if you could n't take 
 time enough off for a little horseback ride," 
 said Lowell. "This is a country for the 
 saddle, after all. I still get more enjoyment 
 from a good horseback ride than from a 
 dozen automobile trips. I'll saddle up the 
 old white horse while you get ready.' 3 
 
 Helen ran indoors, and Lowell went to 
 the barn and proceeded to saddle the white 
 horse that bore the Greek Letter brand. 
 The smiling Wong came out to cast an 
 approving eye over the work. 
 
154 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "This old fly-fighter's a pretty good 
 horse for one of his age, is n't he, Wong?" 
 said Lowell, giving a last shake to the saddle, 
 after the cinch had been tightened. 
 
 In shattered English Wong went into 
 ecstasies over the white horse. Then he 
 said, suddenly and mysteriously: 
 
 "You know Talpels?" 
 
 "You mean Bill Talpers?" asked Lowell. 
 "What about him?" 
 
 Once more the dominant tongue of the 
 Occident staggered beneath Wong's assault, 
 as the cook described, partly in pantomime, 
 the manner of Bill Talpers's downfall the 
 night before. 
 
 "Do you mean to say that Talpers was 
 over here last night and that here is where 
 he got that scalp-wound? " demanded Lowell. 
 
 Wong grinned assent, and then vanished, 
 after making a sign calling for secrecy on 
 Lowell's part, as Helen arrived, ready for 
 the ride. 
 
 Lowell was a good horseman, and the 
 saddle had become Helen's chief means of 
 recreation. In fact riding seemed to bring 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 155 
 
 to her the only contentment she had known 
 since she had come to the Greek Letter 
 Ranch. She had overcome her first fear of 
 the Indians. All her rides that were taken 
 alone were toward the reservation, as she 
 had studiously avoided going near Talpers's 
 place. Also she did not like to ride past the 
 hill on the Dollar Sign road, with its hints 
 of unsolved mystery. But she had quickly 
 grown to love the broad, free Indian reser- 
 vation, with its limitless miles of unfenced 
 hills. She liked to turn off the road and 
 gallop across the trackless ways, sometimes 
 frightening rabbits and coyotes from the 
 sagebrush. Several times she had started 
 antelope, and once her horse had shied at a 
 rattlesnake coiled in the sunshine. The In- 
 dians she had learned to look upon as chil- 
 dren. She had visited the cabins and lodges 
 of some of those who lived near the ranch, 
 and was not long in winning the esteem of 
 the women who were finding the middle 
 ground, between the simplicity of savage 
 life and the complexities of civilization, 
 something too much for mastery. 
 
156 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 Lowell and Helen galloped in silence for 
 miles along the road they had followed in 
 the automobile not many days before. At 
 the crest of a high ridge, Helen turned at 
 right angles, and Lowell followed. 
 
 "There's a view over here I had appro- 
 priated for myself, but I'm willing to share 
 it with you, seeing that this is your own 
 particular reservation and you ought to 
 know about everything it contains," said 
 Helen. 
 
 The ridge dipped and then rose again, 
 higher than before. The plains fell away 
 on both sides — infinite miles of undula- 
 tions. Straight ahead loomed the high blue 
 wall of the mountains. They walked their 
 horses, and finally stopped them altogether. 
 The chattering of a few prairie dogs only 
 served to intensify the great, mysterious 
 silence. 
 
 "Sometimes the stillness seems to roll 
 in on you here like a tide,' 3 said Helen. 'I 
 can positively feel it coming up these great 
 slopes and blanketing everything. It seems 
 to me that this ridge must have been used 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 157 
 
 by Indian watchers in years gone by. I can 
 imagine a scout standing here sending up 
 smoke signals. And those little white puffs 
 of clouds up there are the signals he sent 
 into the sky." 
 
 "I think you belong in this country," 
 Lowell answered smilingly. 
 
 "I'm sure I do. You remember when I 
 first saw these plains and hills I told you 
 the bigness frightened me a little when the 
 sun brought it all out in detail. Well, it 
 does n't any more. Just to be unfettered in 
 mind, and to live and breathe as part of 
 all this vastness, would be ideal." 
 
 "That's where you're in danger of going 
 to the other extreme,' 5 the agent replied. 
 "You'll remember that I told you human 
 companionship is as necessary as bacon and 
 flour and salt in this country. You 're more 
 dependent on the people about you here, 
 even if your nearest neighbor is five or ten 
 miles away, than you would be in any apart- 
 ment building in a big city. You might live 
 and die there, and no one would be the 
 wiser. Also you might get along tolerably 
 
158 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 well, while living alone. But you can't do 
 it out here and keep a normal mental grip 
 on life." 
 
 "My, what a lecture!" laughed the girl, 
 though there was no merriment in her voice. 
 "But it hardly applies to me, for the reason 
 that I always depend upon my neighbors 
 in the ordinary affairs of life. I'm sure I 
 love to be sociable to my Indian neighbors, 
 and even to their agent. Have n't I ridden 
 away out here just to be sociable to you?' 
 
 " No dodging ! I promised I would n't say 
 anything more about the matters that have 
 been disturbing you so, but that promise was 
 contingent on your playing fair with me. I 
 understand Bill Talpers has been causing 
 you some annoyance, and you have n't said 
 a word to me about it." 
 
 Helen flashed a startled glance at Lowell. 
 He was impassive as her questioning eyes 
 searched his face. Amazement and concern 
 alternated in her features. Then she took 
 refuge in a blaze of anger. 
 
 "I don't know how you found out about 
 Talpers!" she cried. "It is true that he did 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 159 
 
 cause a — a little annoyance, but that is all 
 gone and forgotten. But I am not going to 
 forget your impertinence quite so easily.' 3 
 
 "My what?" 
 
 "Your impertinence?" 
 
 The girl was trembling with anger, or 
 apprehension, and tapped her boot nerv- 
 ously with her quirt as she spoke. 
 
 "You've been lecturing me about various 
 things," she went on, "and now you bring 
 up Talpers as a sort of bugaboo to frighten 
 
 me." 
 
 "You don't know Bill Talpers. If he has 
 any sort of hold on you or on Willis Morgan, 
 he'll try to break you both. He is as inno- 
 cent of scruples as a lobo wolf." 
 
 "What hold could he possibly have on 
 me — on us?" 
 
 She looked at Lowell defiantly as she 
 asked the question, but he thought he de- 
 tected a note of concern in her voice. 
 
 "I did n't say he had any hold. I merely 
 pointed out that if he were given any oppor- 
 tunity he'd make life miserable for both of 
 
 you." 
 
160 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 Lowell did not add that Talpers, in a fit 
 of rage and suspicion, augmented by strong 
 drink, had hinted that Helen knew some- 
 thing of the murder. He had been inclined 
 to believe that Talpers had merely been 
 "fighting wild" when he made the veiled 
 accusation — that the trader, being very 
 evidently only partly recovered from a bout 
 with his pet bottles, had made the first 
 counter-assertion that had come into his 
 head in the hope of provoking Lowell into 
 a quarrel. But there was a quality of ter- 
 ror in the girl's voice which struck Lowell 
 with chilling force. Something in his look 
 must have caught Helen 's attention, for her 
 nervousness increased. 
 
 "You have no right to pillory me so," 
 she said rapidly. "You have been per- 
 fectly impossible right along — that is, ever 
 since this crime happened. You've been 
 spying here and there — " 
 
 "Spying!" 
 
 "Yes, downright spying! You've been 
 putting suspicion where it does n't belong. 
 Why, everybody believes the Indians did 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 161 
 
 it — everybody but you. Probably some 
 Indians did it who never have been suspected 
 and never will be — not the Indians who 
 are under suspicion now." 
 
 "That's just about what another party 
 was telling me not long ago — that I was 
 coddling the Indians and trying to fasten 
 suspicion where it did n't rightfully belong.' 3 
 "Who else told you that?" 
 "No less a person than Bill Talpers." 
 "There you go again, bringing in that 
 cave man. Why do you keep talking to me 
 about Talpers? I'm not afraid of him." 
 
 Most girls would have been on the verge 
 of hysteria, Lowell thought, but, while 
 Helen was plainly under a nervous strain, 
 her self-command returned. The agent was 
 in possession of some information — how 
 much she did not know. Perhaps she could 
 goad him into betraying the source of his 
 knowledge. 
 
 "I know you're not afraid of Talpers," re- 
 marked Lowell, after a pause, "but at least 
 give me the privilege of being afraid for you. 
 I know Bill Talpers better than you do." 
 
1 62 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "What right have you to be afraid for 
 me? I'm of age, and besides, I have a 
 protector — a guardian — at the ranch.' ' 
 
 Lowell was on the point of making some 
 bitter reply about the undesirability of any 
 guardianship assumed by Willis Morgan, 
 squaw man, recluse, and recipient of com- 
 mon hatred and contempt. But he kept 
 his counsel, and remarked, pleasantly: 
 
 "My rights are merely those of a neigh- 
 bor — the right of one neighbor to help 
 another." 
 
 "There are no rights of that sort where 
 the other neighbor is n't asking any help 
 and does n't desire it." 
 
 "I'm not sure about your not needing it. 
 Anyway, if you don't now, you may later.' 2 
 
 The girl did not answer. The horses were 
 standing close together, heads drooping 
 lazily. Warm breezes came fitfully from the 
 winds' playground below. The handker- 
 chief at the girl's neck fluttered, and a strand 
 of her hair danced and glistened in the sun- 
 shine. The graceful lines of her figure were 
 brought out by her riding-suit. Lowell put 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 163 
 
 his palm over the gloved hand on her saddle 
 pommel. Even so slight a touch thrilled him. 
 
 "If a neighbor has no right to give ad- 
 vice," said Lowell, "let us assume that my 
 unwelcome offerings have come from a man 
 who is deeply in love with you. It's no 
 great secret, anyway, as it seems to me that 
 even the meadow-larks have been singing 
 about it ever since we started on this ride.' 3 
 
 The girl buried her face in her hands. 
 Lowell put his arm about her waist, and she 
 drooped toward him, but recovered herself 
 with an effort. Putting his arm away, she said : 
 
 "You make matters harder and harder 
 for me. Please forget what I have said and 
 what you have said, and don't come to see 
 me any more." 
 
 She spoke with a quiet intensity that 
 amazed Lowell. 
 
 "Not come to see you any more! Why 
 such an extreme sentence?" 
 
 * Because there is an evil spell on the 
 Greek Letter Ranch. Everybody who comes 
 there is certain to be followed by trouble — 
 deep trouble." 
 

 1 64 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 The girl's agitation increased. There was 
 terror in her face. 
 
 * * Look here ! ' ' began Lowell . ' ' This thing 
 is beyond all promises of silence. I — ' 
 
 "Don't ask what I mean!" said the girl. 
 "You might find it awkward. You say you 
 are in love with me?" 
 
 I repeat it a thousand times." 
 Well, you are the kind of man who will 
 choose honor every time. I realize that 
 much. Suppose you found that your love 
 for me was bringing you in direct conflict 
 with your duty?" 
 
 "I know that such a thing is impossible," 
 broke in Lowell. 
 
 Helen smiled, bitterly. 
 
 "It is so far from being impossible that I 
 am asking you to forget what you have said, 
 and to forget me as well. There is so much 
 of evil on the Greek Letter Ranch that the 
 very soil there is steeped in it. I am going 
 away, but I know its spell will follow me.' 1 
 
 "You are going?" queried Lowell. 
 "When?" 
 
 "When these men now charged with the 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 165 
 
 murder are acquitted. They will be ac- 
 quitted, will they not? " 
 
 The eager note in her question caught 
 Lowell by surprise. 
 
 " No man can tell," he replied. "It 's all as 
 inscrutable as that mountain wall over there.' 3 
 
 Helen shaded her eyes with her gauntleted 
 hand as she looked in the direction indicated 
 by Lowell. Black clouds were pouring in 
 masses over the mountain-range. The sun- 
 shine was being blotted out, as if by some 
 giant hand. The storm-clouds swept toward 
 them as they turned the horses and started 
 back along the ridge. A huge shadow, which 
 Helen shudderingly likened to the sprawl- 
 ing figure of Talpers in the lamplight, raced 
 toward them over the plains. 
 
 "There is n't a storm in all that black- 
 ness," Lowell assured her. " It 's all shadow 
 and no substance. Perhaps your fears will 
 turn out that way." 
 
 The girl regarded him gravely. 
 
 "I've tried to hope as much, but it's no 
 use, especially when you've felt the first 
 actual buffe tings of the storm." 
 
1 66 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 The approaching cloud shadow seemed 
 startlingly solid. The girl urged her horse 
 into a gallop, and Lowell rode silently at her 
 side. The shadow overtook them. Angry 
 winds seemed to clutch at them from various 
 angles, but no rain came from the cloud mass 
 overhead. When they rode into the ranch 
 3 r ard, the sun was shining again. They dis- 
 mounted near the barn, and Wong took the 
 white horse. Lowell and the girl walked 
 through the yard to the front gate, the 
 agent leading his horse. As they passed 
 near the porch there came through the open 
 door that same chilling, sarcastic voice 
 which stirred all the ire in Lowell's nature. 
 
 "Helen," the voice said, "that careless 
 individual, Wong, must be reprimanded. 
 He has mislaid one of my choicest volumes. 
 Perhaps it would be better for you to attend 
 to replacing the books on the shelves after 
 this/' 
 
 Every word was intended to humiliate, 
 yet the voice was moderately pitched. 
 There was even a slight drawl to it. 
 
 Lowell's face betrayed his anger as he 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 167 
 
 glanced at the girl. He made a gesture of 
 impatience, but Helen motioned to him, 
 in warning. 
 
 'Some day you're going to let me take 
 you away from this," he said grimly, looking 
 at her with an intensity of devotion which 
 brought the red to her cheeks. "Meantime, 
 thanks for taking me out on that magic 
 ridge. I'll never forget it." 
 
 "It will be better for you to forget every- 
 thing," answered the girl. 
 
 Lowell was about to make a reply, when 
 the voice came once more, cutting like a 
 whiplash in a renewal of the complaint con- 
 cerning the lost book. The girl turned, with 
 a good-bye gesture, and ran indoors. Lowell 
 led his horse outside the yard and rode 
 toward Talpers's place, determined to have 
 a few definite words with the trader. 
 
 When Lowell reached Talpers's, the usual 
 knot of Indians was gathered on the front 
 porch, with the customary collection of cow- 
 punchers and ranchmen discussing matters 
 inside the store. 
 
 "Bill ain't been here all the afternoon," 
 
168 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 said Talpers's clerk in answer to Lowell's 
 question. "He sat around here for a while 
 after you left this morning, and then he 
 saddled up and took a pack-horse and hit 
 off toward the reservation, but I don't know 
 where he went or when he'll be back." 
 
 Lowell rode thoughtfully to the agency, 
 trying in vain to bridge the gap between 
 Talpers's cryptic utterances bearing on the 
 murder, and the not less cryptic statements 
 of Helen in the afternoon — an occupation 
 which kept him unprofitably employed un- 
 til far into the night. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 Bill Talpers's return to sobriety was 
 considerably hastened by alarm after the 
 trader's words with Lowell. As long as mat- 
 ters were even between Bill Talpers and the 
 girl, the trader figured that he could at least 
 afford to let things rest. The letter in his 
 possession was still a potent weapon. He 
 could at least prevent the girl from telling 
 what she seemed to know of the trader's 
 connection with the murder. He had figured 
 that the letter would be the means of bring- 
 ing him a most engaging bride. It would 
 have done so if he had not been such a fool 
 as to drink too much. Talpers usually was 
 a canny drinker, but when a man goes ask- 
 ing — or, in this case, demanding — a girl's 
 hand in marriage, it is not to be wondered at 
 if he oversteps the limit a trifle in the matter 
 of fortifying himself with liquor. But in this 
 case Bill realized that he had gone beyond 
 all reasonable bounds. That fall had been 
 
170 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 disastrous in every way. She was clever and 
 quick, that girl, or she never would have 
 been able to turn an incident like that to 
 such good advantage. Most girls would 
 have sniveled in a corner, thought Bill, until 
 he had regained his senses, but she started 
 right in to look for that letter. He had been 
 smart enough to leave the letter in the safe 
 at the store, but she had found plenty in 
 that watch! 
 
 Another thought buzzed disturbingly in 
 Bill's head. How did she know just how 
 much money had been taken from Sargent's 
 body? Also, how didj'she know that the 
 watch was Sargent's, seeing that it had no 
 marks of identification on it? If there had 
 been so much as a scratch on the thing, 
 Talpers never would have worn it. She 
 might have been making a wild guess about 
 the watch, but she certainly was not guess- 
 ing about the money. Her certainty in 
 mentioning the amount had given Bill a 
 chill of terror from which he was slow in 
 recovering. Another thing that was causing 
 him real agony of spirit was the prominence 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 171 
 
 of Lowell in affairs at the Greek Letter 
 Ranch. It would be easy enough to hold 
 the girl in check with that letter. She would 
 never dare tell the authorities how much she 
 knew about Talpers, as Bill could drag her 
 into the case by producing his precious doc- 
 umentary evidence. But the agent — how 
 much was he learning in the course of his 
 persistent searching, and from what angle 
 was he going to strike? Would the girl pro- 
 vide him with information which she might 
 not dare give to others? Women were all 
 weaklings, thought Bill, unable to keep any 
 sort of a secret from a sympathetic male ear, 
 especially when that ear belonged to as 
 handsome a young fellow as the Indian 
 agent! Probably she would be telling the 
 agent everything on his next trip to the 
 ranch. Bill had been watching, but he had 
 not seen the young upstart from the agency 
 go past, and neither had Bill 's faithful clerk. 
 But the visit might be made any day, and 
 Talpers's connection with the tragedy on 
 the Dollar Sign road might at almost any 
 hour be falling into the possession of Lowell, 
 
172 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 whose activity in running down bootleggers 
 had long ago earned him Bill's hatred. 
 
 Something would have to be done, with- 
 out delay, to get the girl where she would 
 not be making a confidant of Lowell or any 
 one else. Scowlingly Bill thought over one 
 plan after another, and rejected each as im- 
 practical. Finally, by a process of elimina- 
 tion, he settled on the only course that 
 seemed practical. A broad fist, thudding 
 into a leather-like palm, indicated that the 
 Talpers mind had been made up. With his 
 dark features expressing grim resolve, Bill 
 threw a burden of considerable size on his 
 best pack-animal. This operation he con- 
 ducted alone in the barn, rejecting his clerk's 
 proffer of assistance. Then he saddled an- 
 other horse, and, without telling his clerk 
 anything concerning his prospective where- 
 abouts or the length of his trip, started off 
 across the prairie. He often made such ex- 
 cursions, and his clerk had learned not to 
 ask questions. Diplomacy in such matters 
 was partly what the clerk was paid for. A 
 good fellow to work for was Bill Talpers if 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 173 
 
 no one got too curiously inclined. One or 
 two clerks had been disciplined on account 
 of inquisitiveness, and they would not be 
 as beautiful after the Talpers methods had 
 been applied, but they had gained vastly 
 in experience. Some day he would do even 
 more for this young Indian agent. Bill's 
 cracked lips were stretched in a grin of 
 satisfaction at the very thought. 
 
 The trader traveled swiftly toward the 
 reservation. He often boasted that he got 
 every ounce that was available in horse- 
 flesh. Traveling with a pack-horse was little 
 handicap to him. Horses instinctively feared 
 him. More than one he had driven to death 
 without so much as touching the strain- 
 ing animal with whip or spur. Nothing 
 gave Bill such acute satisfaction as the 
 knowledge that he had roused fear in any 
 creature. 
 
 With the sweating pack-animal close at 
 the heels of his saddle pony, Talpers rode 
 for hours across the plains. Seemingly he 
 paid no attention to the changes in the land- 
 scape, yet his keen eyes, buried deeply be- 
 
i 7 4 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 neath black brows, took in everything. He 
 saw the cloud masses come tumbling over 
 the mountains, but, like Lowell, he knew 
 that the drought was not yet to be ended. 
 The country became more broken, and the 
 grade so pronounced that the horses were 
 compelled to slacken their pace. The pleas- 
 ant green hills gave place to imprisoning 
 mesas, with red sides that looked like bat- 
 tlements. Beyond these lay the foothills — 
 so close that they covered the final slopes 
 of the mountains. 
 
 It was a lonely country, innocent of 
 fences. The cattle that ran here were as wild 
 as deer and almost as fleet as antelope. 
 Twice a year the Indians rounded up their 
 range possessions, but many of these cattle 
 had escaped the far-flung circles of riders. 
 They had become renegades and had grown 
 old and clever. At the sight of a human be- 
 ing they would gallop away in the sage and 
 greasewood. 
 
 Once Talpers saw the gleam of a wagon- 
 top which indicated the presence of a wolf 
 hunter in the employ of the leasers who were 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 175 
 
 running cattle on the reservations and who 
 suffered much from the depredations of 
 predatory animals. By working carefully 
 around a hill, the trader continued on his 
 way without having been seen. 
 
 Passing the flanking line of mesas, Bill 
 pushed his way up a watercourse between 
 two foothills. The going became rougher, 
 and all semblance of a trail was lost, yet the 
 trader went on unhesitatingly. The slopes 
 !eading to the creek became steeper and 
 were covered with pine and quaking aspen, 
 instead of the bushy growths of the plains. 
 The stream foamed over rocks, and its 
 noise drowned the sound of the horses' hoofs 
 as the animals scrambled over the occa- 
 sional stretches of loose shale. With the 
 dexterity of the born trailsman, Talpers 
 wormed his way along the stream when it 
 seemed as if further progress would be im- 
 possible. In a tiny glade, with the moun- 
 tain walls rising precipitously for hundreds 
 of feet, Talpers halted and gave three shrill 
 whistles. An answer came from the other 
 end of the glade, and in a few minutes Tal- 
 
176 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 pers was removing pack and saddle in Jim 
 McFann's camp. 
 
 Since his escape from jail the half-breed 
 had been hiding in this mountain fastness. 
 Talpers had supplied him with "grub" and 
 weapons. He had moved camp once in a 
 while for safety's sake, but had felt little 
 fear of capture. As a trailer McFann had 
 few equals, and he knew every swale in the 
 prairie and every nook in the mountains 
 on the reservation. 
 
 Talpers brought out a bottle, which 
 McFann seized eagerly. 
 
 "There's plenty more in the pack," said 
 the trader, "so drink all you want. Don't 
 offer me none, as I am kind o' taperin' off." 
 
 "Did you see any Indian police on the 
 way?" asked the half-breed. 
 
 "No — nothin' but Wolfer Joe's wagon, 
 'way off in the hills. I guess the police ain't 
 lookin' for you very hard. That ain't the 
 fault of the agent, though," added Talpers 
 meaningly. "He's promised he'll have you 
 back in Tom Redmond's hands in less'n a 
 week." 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 177 
 
 The half-breed scowled and muttered an 
 oath as he took another drink. Talpers had 
 told the lie in order to rouse McFann's an- 
 tagonism toward Lowell, and he was pleased 
 to see that his statement had been accepted 
 at face value. 
 
 "But that ain't the worst for you, nor for 
 me either," went on the trader. "That girl 
 at the Greek Letter Ranch knows that you 
 and me took the watch from the man on the 
 Dollar Sign road." 
 
 "How did she know that?" exclaimed 
 McFann in amazement. 
 
 "That's somethin' she won't tell, but she 
 knows that you and me was there, and that 
 the story you told in court ain't straight. 
 I 'm satisfied she ain't told any one else — 
 not yet." 
 
 "Do you think she will tell any one?" 
 
 "I'm sure of it. You see, she sorter 
 sprung this thing on me when I was havin' a 
 little argyment about her marryin' me. She 
 got spiteful and come at me with the state- 
 ment that the watch I was wearin' belonged 
 to that feller Sargent." 
 
178 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 Bill did not add anything about the 
 money. It was not going to do to let the 
 half-breed know he had been defrauded. 
 
 McFann squatted by the fire, the bottle 
 in his hand and his gaze on Talpers's face. 
 
 "She mentioned both of us bein' there," 
 went on the trader. "She give the details 
 in a way that I '11 admit took me off my feet. 
 It 's an awkward matter — in fact, it 's a 
 hangin' matter — for both of us, if she tells. 
 You know how clost they was to lynchin' 
 you, over there at White Lodge, with 
 nothin' so very strong against you. If that 
 gang ever hears about us and this watch of 
 Sargent's, we'll be hung on the same tree.' : 
 
 Talpers played heavily on the lynching, 
 because he knew the fear of the mob had 
 become an obsession with McFann. He no- 
 ticed the half-breed's growing uneasiness, 
 and played his big card. 
 
 "I spent a long time thinkin' the hull 
 thing over," said Talpers, "and I've come 
 to the conclusion that this girl is sure to tell 
 the Indian agent all she knows, and the best 
 thing for us to do is to get her out of the way 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 179 
 
 before she puts the noose around our necks." 
 rrj "Why will she tell the Indian agent?" 
 
 "Because he's callin' pretty steady at the 
 ranch, and he's made her think he's the 
 only friend she's got around here. And as 
 soon as he finds out, we might as well pick 
 out our own rope neckties, Jim. It's goin' 
 to take quick action to save us, but you're 
 the one to do it." 
 
 "What do you want me to do?' asked 
 McFann suspiciously. 
 
 " Well, you 're the best trailer and as good 
 a shot as there is in this part of the coun- 
 try. All that's necessary is for you to drop 
 around the ranch and — well, sort of make 
 that girl disappear." 
 
 "How do you mean?" 
 
 Talpers rose and came closer to McFann. 
 
 "I mean kill her!" he said with an oath. 
 "No thin' else is goin' to do. You can do it 
 without leavin' a track. Willis Morgan or 
 that Chinaman never '11 see you around. 
 Nobody else but the agent ever stops at the 
 Greek Letter Ranch. It 's the only safe way. 
 If she ever tells, Jim, you'll never come to 
 
180 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 trial. You'll be swingin' back and forth 
 somewheres to the music of the prairie 
 breeze. You know the only kind of fruit 
 that grows on these cotton woods out here. ,, 
 
 Jim McFann had always been pliable in 
 Talpers's hands. Talpers had profited most 
 by the bootlegging operations carried on by 
 the pair, though Jim had done most of the 
 dangerous work. Whenever Jim needed 
 supplies, the trader furnished them. To be 
 sure, he charged them off heavily, so there 
 was little cash left from the half-breed's 
 bootlegging operations. Talpers shrewdly 
 figured that the less cash he gave Jim, the 
 more surely he could keep his hold on the 
 half-breed. McFann had grown used to his 
 servitude. Talpers appeared to him in the 
 guise of the only friend he possessed among 
 white and red. 
 
 Jim rose slowly to his moccasined feet. 
 
 "I guess you're right, Bill," he said. 
 "I'll do what you say." 
 
 The trader's eyes glowed with satisfac- 
 tion. The desire for revenge had come up- 
 permost in his heart. The girl at the ranch 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 181 
 
 had outwitted him in some way which he 
 could not understand. Twenty-four hours 
 ago he had confidently figured on number- 
 ing her among the choicest chattels in the 
 possession of William Talpers. But now he 
 regarded her with a hatred born of fear. 
 The thought of what she could do to him, 
 merely by speaking a few careless words 
 about that watch and money, drove all 
 other thoughts from Talpers 's mind. Jim 
 McFann could be made a deadly and cer- 
 tain instrument for insuring the safety of 
 the Talpers skin. One shot from the half- 
 breed's rifle, either through a cabin window 
 or from some sagebrush covert near the 
 ranch, and the trader need have no further 
 fears about being connected with the Dollar 
 Sign murder. 
 
 "I thought you'd see it in the right light, 
 Jim," approved Talpers. "It won't be any 
 trick at all to get her. She rides out a good 
 deal on that white horse." 
 
 Jim McFann did not answer. He had 
 begun preparations for his trip. Swiftly and 
 silently the half-breed saddled his horse, 
 
1 82 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 which had been hidden in a near-by thicket. 
 From the supply of liquor in Talpers's pack, 
 Jim took a bottle, which he was thrusting 
 into his saddle pocket when the trader 
 snatched it away. 
 
 "You've had enough, Jim," growled 
 Talpers. "You do the work that's cut out 
 for you, and you can have all I've brought 
 to camp. I'll be here waitin' for you." 
 g, McFann scowled. 
 
 r "All right," he said sullenly, "but it 
 seems as if a man ought to have lots for a 
 job like this." 
 
 "After it's all done," said Talpers sooth- 
 ingly, "you can have all the booze you want, 
 Jim. And one thing more," called the 
 trader as McFann rode away, "remember 
 it ain't goin' to hurt either of us if you get 
 a chance to put the Indian agent away on 
 this same little trip." 
 
 Jim McFann waved an assenting sign as 
 he disappeared in the trees, and the trader 
 went back to the camp-fire to await the 
 half-breed's return. He hoped McFann 
 would find the agent at the Greek Letter 
 
/MYSTERY RANCH 183 
 
 Ranch and would kill Lowell as well as the 
 girl. But, if there did not happen to be any 
 such double stroke of luck in prospect, the 
 removal of the Indian agent could be at- 
 tended to later on. 
 
 When he reached the mesas beyond the 
 foothills, the half-breed turned away from 
 the stream and struck off toward the left. 
 He kept a sharp lookout for Indian police 
 as he traveled, but saw nothing to cause 
 apprehension. Night was fast coming on 
 when he reached the ridge on which Lowell 
 and Helen had stood a few hours before. 
 Avoiding the road, the half-breed made his 
 way to a gulch near the ranch, where he tied 
 his horse. Cautiously he approached the 
 ranch-house. The kitchen door was open 
 and Wong was busy with the dishes. The 
 other doors were shut and shades were 
 drawn in the windows. Making his way 
 back to the gulch, the half-breed rolled up 
 in his blanket and slept till daybreak, when 
 he took up a vantage-point near the house 
 and waited developments. Shortly after 
 breakfast Wong came out to the barn and 
 
1 84 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 saddled the white horse for Helen. The 
 half-breed noticed with satisfaction that the 
 girl rode directly toward the reservation 
 instead of following the road that led to 
 the agency. Hastily securing his horse the 
 half-breed skirted the ranch and located the 
 girl's trail on the prairie. Instead of follow- 
 ing it he ensconced himself comfortably in 
 some aspens at the bottom of a draw, con- 
 fident that the girl would return by the 
 same trail. 
 
 If McFann had continued on Helen's 
 trail he would have followed her to an In- 
 dian ranch not far away. A tattered tepee 
 or two snuggled against a dilapidated cabin. 
 The owner of the ranch was struggling with 
 tuberculosis. His wife was trying to run 
 the place and to bring up several children, 
 whose condition had aroused the mother 
 instinct in Helen. Though she had found 
 her first efforts regarded with suspicion, 
 Helen had persisted, until she had won the 
 confidence of mother and children. Her vis- 
 its were frequent, and she had helped the 
 family so materially that she had astonished 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 185 
 
 the field matron, an energetic woman who 
 covered enormous distances in the saddle 
 in the fulfillment of duties which would soon 
 wear out a settlement worker. 
 
 The half-breed smoked uneasily, his rifle 
 across his knees. Two hours passed, but he 
 did not stir, so confident was he that Helen 
 would return by the way she had followed 
 in departing from the ranch. 
 
 McFann's patience was rewarded, and he 
 tossed away his cigarette with a sigh of sat- 
 isfaction when Helen's voice came to him 
 from the top of the hill. She was singing a 
 nonsense song from the nursery, and, astride 
 behind her saddle and clinging to her waist, 
 was a wide-eyed Indian girl of six years, 
 enjoying both the ride and the singing. 
 
 Here was a complication upon which the 
 half-breed had not counted. In fact, during 
 his hours of waiting Jim had begun to look 
 at matters in a different light. It was neces- 
 sary to get Helen away, where she could not 
 possibly tell what she knew, but why not 
 hide her in the mountains? Or, if stronger 
 methods were necessary, let Talpers attend 
 
1 86 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 to them himself? For the first time since he 
 had come under Talpers's ^domination, Jim 
 McFann was beginning to weaken. As the 
 girl came singing down the hillside, Jim 
 peered uneasily through the bushes. Tal- 
 pers had shoved him into a job that sim- 
 ply could not be carried out — at least not 
 without whiskey. If Bill had let him bring 
 all he wanted to drink, perhaps things could 
 have been done as planned. 
 
 Whatever was done would have to be ac- 
 complished quickly, as the white horse, with 
 its double burden, was getting close. Jim 
 sighted once or twice along his rifle bar- 
 rel. Then he dropped the weapon into the 
 hollow of his arm, and, leading his horse, 
 stepped in front of Helen. 
 
 The parley was brief. McFann sent the 
 youngster scurrying along the back trail, 
 after a few threats in Indian tongue, which 
 were dire enough to seal the child's lips in 
 fright. Helen was startled at first when the 
 half-breed halted her, but her composure 
 soon returned. She had no weapon, nor 
 would she have attempted to use one in any 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 187 
 
 event, as she knew the half-breed was fa- 
 mous for his quickness and cleverness with 
 firearms. Nor could anything be gained by 
 attempting to ride him down in the trail. 
 She did not ask any questions, for she felt 
 they would be futile. 
 
 The half-breed was surprised at the calm- 
 ness with which matters were being taken. 
 With singular ease and grace — another gift 
 from his Indian forbears — Jim slid into his 
 saddle, and, seizing the white horse by the 
 bridle, turned the animal around and started 
 it up the trail beside him. In a few minutes 
 Jim had found his trail of the evening before, 
 and was working swiftly back toward the 
 mountains. When Helen slyly dropped her 
 handkerchief, as an aid to any one who 
 might follow, the half-breed quietly turned 
 back and, after picking it up, informed her 
 that he would kill her if she tried any more 
 such tricks. Realizing the folly of any 
 further attempts to outwit the half-breed, 
 Helen rode silently on. Not once did Mc- 
 Fann strike across a ridge. Imprisoning 
 slopes seemed to be shutting them in with- 
 
1 88 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 out surcease, and Helen looked in vain for 
 any aid. 
 
 As they approached the foothills, and the 
 travel increased in difficulty, McFann told 
 Helen to ride close behind him. He glanced 
 around occasionally to see that she was 
 obeying orders. The old white horse strug- 
 gled gamely after the half-breed's wiry ani- 
 mal, and McFann was compelled to wait 
 only once or twice. Meanwhile Helen had 
 thought over the situation from every pos- 
 sible angle, and had concluded to go ahead 
 and not make any effort to thwart the half- 
 breed. She knew that the reservation was 
 more free from crime than the counties sur- 
 rounding it. She also knew that it would 
 not be long before the agent was informed 
 of her disappearance, and that the Indian 
 police — trailers who were the half-breed's 
 equal in threading the ways of the wilder- 
 ness — would soon be on McFann's tracks. 
 After her first shock of surprise she had 
 little fear of McFann. The thought that 
 disturbed her most of all was — Talpers. 
 She knew of the strange partnership of the 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 189 
 
 men. Likewise she felt that McFann would 
 not have embarked upon any such crime 
 alone. The thought of Talpers recurred so 
 steadily that the lithe figure of the half- 
 breed in front of her seemed to change into 
 the broad, almost misshapen form of the 
 trader. 
 
 The first real fear that had come to her 
 since the strange journey began surged over 
 Helen when McFann led the way into the 
 glade where he had been camped, and she 
 saw a dreaded and familiar figure stooped 
 over a small fire, engaged in frying bacon. 
 But there was nothing of triumph in Tal- 
 pers's face as he straightened up and saw 
 Helen. Amazement flitted across the tra- 
 der's features, succeeded by consternation. 
 
 "Now you've done it and done it right!" 
 exclaimed the trader, with a shower of oaths 
 directed at Jim McFann. " Did n't have the 
 nerve to shoot at a purty face like that, did 
 you? Git her into that tent while you and 
 me set down and figger out what we're 
 goin' to do!" 
 
 The half-breed helped Helen dismount 
 
i 9 o MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 and told her to go to his tent, a small, pyra- 
 mid affair at one end of the glade. Jim fast- 
 ened the flaps on the outside and went back 
 to the camp-fire, where Talpers was storm- 
 ing up and down like a madman. Helen, 
 seated on McFann's blanket roll, heard their 
 voices rising and falling, the half-breed ap- 
 parently defending himself and Talpers 
 growing louder and more accusative. Fi- 
 nally, when the trader's rage seemed to have 
 spent itself somewhat, the tent flaps were 
 opened and Jim McFann thrust some food 
 into Helen's hands. She ate the bacon and 
 biscuits, as the long ride had made her 
 hungry. Then Talpers roughly ordered her 
 out of the tent. He and the half-breed had 
 been busy packing and saddling. They 
 added the tent and its contents to their 
 packs. Telling Helen to mount the white 
 horse once more, Talpers took the lead, 
 and, with the silent and sullen half-breed 
 bringing up the rear, the party started off 
 along a trail much rougher than the one 
 that had been followed by McFann and the 
 girl in the morning. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 It was fortunate that Helen had ac- 
 customed herself to long rides, as otherwise 
 she could not have undergone the experiences 
 of the next few hours in the saddle. All 
 semblance of a trail seemed to end a mile or 
 so beyond the camp. The ride became a 
 succession of scrambles across treacherous 
 slides of shale, succeeded by plunges into 
 apparently impenetrable walls of under- 
 brush and low-hanging trees. The general 
 course of the river was followed. At times 
 they had climbed to such a height that the 
 stream was merely a white line beneath 
 them, and its voice could not be heard. 
 Then they would descend and cross and re- 
 cross the stream. The wild plunges across 
 the torrent became matters of torture to 
 Helen. The horses slipped on the boulders. 
 Water dashed over the girl's knees, and each 
 ford became more difficult, as the stream be- 
 came more swollen, owing to the melting of 
 
192 I i MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 near-by snowbanks. One of the pack-horses 
 fell and lay helplessly in the stream until 
 it was fairly dragged to its feet. The men 
 cursed volubly as they worked over the ani- 
 mal and readjusted the wet pack, which had 
 slipped to one side. 
 
 After an hour or two of travel the half- 
 breed took Talpers's place in the lead, the 
 trader bringing up the rear behind Helen 
 and the pack-horses. Two bald mountain- 
 peaks began to loom startlingly near. The 
 stream ran between the peaks, being fed by 
 the snows on either slope. As the altitude 
 became more pronounced the horses strug- 
 gled harder at their work. The white horse 
 was showing the stamina that was in him. 
 Helen urged him to his task, knowing the 
 folly of attempting to thwart the wishes of 
 her captors. They passed a slope where a 
 forest fire had swept in years gone by. Wild 
 raspberry bushes had grown in profusion 
 among the black, sentinel-like trunks of 
 dead trees. The bushes tore her riding-suit 
 and scratched her hands, but she uttered no 
 complaint. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 193 
 
 Under any other circumstances Helen 
 would have found much in the ride to over- 
 come its discomforts. The majesty of the 
 scenery impressed itself upon her mind, 
 troubled as she was. Silence wrapped the 
 two great peaks like a mantle. An eagle 
 swung lazily in midair between the granite 
 spires. Here was another plane of existence 
 where the machinations of men seemed to 
 matter little. Almost indifferent to her dis- 
 comforts Helen struggled on, mechanically 
 keeping her place in line. The half-breed 
 looked back occasionally, and even went 
 so far as to take her horse by the bridle 
 and help the animal up an unusually hard 
 slope. 
 
 When it became apparent that further 
 progress was an impossibility unless the 
 pack-horses were abandoned, the half-breed 
 turned aside, and, after a final desperate 
 scramble up the mountain-side, the party 
 entered a fairly open, level glade. Helen 
 dismounted with the others. 
 
 "We're goin' to camp here for a while/ 3 
 announced Talpers, after a short whispered 
 
194 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 conference with the half -breed. " You might 
 as well make yourself as comfortable as you 
 can, but remember one thing — you '11 be 
 shot if you try to get away or if you make 
 any signals." 
 
 Helen leaned back against a tree-trunk, 
 too weary to make answer, and Talpers went 
 to the assistance of McFann, who was tak- 
 ing off the packs and saddles. The horses 
 were staked out near at hand, where they 
 could get their fill of the luxuriant grass that 
 carpeted the mountain-side here. McFann 
 brought water from a spring near at hand, 
 and the trader set out some food from one 
 of the packs, though it was decided not to 
 build a fire to cook anything. Helen ate 
 biscuits and bacon left from the previous 
 meal. While she was eating, McFann put 
 up the little tent. Then, after another con- 
 ference with Talpers, the half-breed climbed 
 a rock which jutted out of the shoulder of 
 the mountain not far from them. His lithe 
 figure was silhouetted against the reddening 
 sky. Helen wondered, as she looked up at 
 him, if the rock had been used for sentinel 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 195 
 
 purposes in years gone by. Her reflections 
 were broken in upon by Talpers. 
 
 "That tent is yours," said the trader, in 
 a low voice. "But before you turn in I've 
 got a few words to say to you. You have 
 n't seemed to be as much afraid of me on 
 this trip as you was the other night at your 
 cabin." 
 
 "There's no reason why I should be," 
 said Helen quietly. "You don't dare harm 
 me for several reasons." 
 
 What are they?" sneered Talpers. 
 Well, one reason is — Jim McFann. All 
 I have to do to cause your partnership to 
 dissolve at once is to tell Jim that you found 
 that money on the man who was murdered 
 and did n't divide." 
 
 Talpers winced. 
 
 "Furthermore, this business has practi- 
 cally made an outlaw of you. It all depends 
 on your treatment of me. I 'm the collateral 
 that may get you back into the good graces 
 of society." 
 
 Talpers wiped the sweat beads off his 
 forehead. 
 
 
196 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "You don't want to be too sure of your- 
 self," he growled, though with so much lack 
 of assurance that Helen was secretly de- 
 lighted. "You want to remember,' 3 went 
 on the trader threateningly, "that any time 
 we want to put a bullet in you, we can 
 make our getaway easy enough. The only 
 thing for you to do is to keep quiet and see 
 that you mind orders." 
 
 Talpers ended the interview hastily when 
 McFann came down from the rock. The 
 men talked together, after shutting Helen 
 in the tent and reiterating that she would be 
 watched and that the first attempt to escape 
 would be fatal. Helen flung herself down on 
 the blankets and watched the fading lights 
 of evening as they were reflected on the can- 
 vas. She could hear the low voices of Tal- 
 pers and McFann, hardly distinguishable 
 from the slight noises made by the wind in 
 the trees. The moon cast the shadows of 
 branches on the canvas, and the noise of the 
 stream, far below, came fitfully to Helen's 
 ears. She was more at ease in mind than at 
 any other time since Jim McFann had con- 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 197 
 
 fronted her with his rifle over his arm. She 
 felt that Talpers was the moving spirit in 
 her kidnaping. She did not know how near 
 her knowledge of the trader's implication in 
 the Dollar Sign tragedy had brought her to 
 death. Nor did she know that Talpers's 
 rage over Jim McFann's weakening had 
 been so great that the trader had nearly 
 snatched up his rifle and shot his partner 
 dead when the half-breed brought Helen 
 into camp. 
 
 As a matter of fact, when Talpers had 
 realized that Jim McFann had failed in his 
 mission of assassination, the trader had been 
 consumed with alternate rage and fear. A 
 kidnaping had been the last thing in the 
 world in the trader's thoughts. Assassina- 
 tion, with some one else doing the work, 
 was much the better way. Running off with 
 womenfolk could not be made a profitable 
 affair, but here was the girl thrown into his 
 hands by fate. It would not do to let her go. 
 Perhaps a way out of the mess could be 
 thought over. McFann could be made to 
 bear the brunt in some way. Meantime 
 
198 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 the best thing to do was to get as far into the 
 hills as possible. McFann could outwit the 
 Indian police. He had been doing it right 
 along. He had fooled them during long 
 months of bootlegging. Since his escape 
 from jail the police had redoubled their ef- 
 forts to capture McFann, but he had gone 
 right on fooling them. If worst came to 
 worst, McFann and he could make their 
 getaway alone, first putting the girl where 
 she would never tell what she knew about 
 them. Across the mountains there was a 
 little colony of law-breakers that had long 
 been after Talpers as a leader. He had 
 helped them in a good many ways, these 
 outlaws, particularly in rustling cattle from 
 the reservation herds. It was Bill Talpers 
 who had evolved the neat little plan of 
 changing the ID brand of the Interior De- 
 partment to the "two-pole pumpkin" brand, 
 which was done merely by extending another 
 semicircle to the left of the "I" and connect- 
 ing that letter and the "D" at top and bot- 
 tom, thus making two perpendicular lines 
 in a flattened circle. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 199 
 
 The returns from his interest in the gang 's 
 rustling operations had been far more than 
 Bill had ever secured from his store. In 
 fact, storekeeping was played out. Bill 
 never would have kept it up except for the 
 opportunity it gave him to find out what 
 was going on. To be sure, he should have 
 played safe and kept away from such things 
 as that affair on the Dollar Sign road. But 
 he could have come clear even there if it had 
 not been for the uncanny knowledge pos- 
 sessed by that girl. The thought of what 
 » would happen if she took a notion to tell 
 McFann how he had been "double-crossed" 
 by his partner gave Talpers something ap- 
 proaching a chill. The half-breed was docile 
 enough as long as he thought he was being 
 fairly dealt with. But once let him find out 
 that he had been unfairly treated, all the 
 Indian in him would come to the surface 
 with a rush! Fortunately the girl was prov- 
 ing herself to be close-mouthed. She had 
 traveled for hours with the half-breed with- 
 out telling him of Talpers's perfidy. Now 
 Bill would see to it that she got no chance 
 
aoo MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 to talk with McFann. The half-breed was 
 too tender-hearted where women were con- 
 cerned. That much had been proved when 
 he had fallen down in the matter of the work 
 he had been sent out to do. If she had a 
 chance the girl might even persuade him to 
 let her escape, which was not going to do at 
 all. If anybody was to be left holding the 
 sack at the end of the adventure, it would 
 not be Bill Talpers ! 
 
 With various stratagems being brought 
 to mind, only to be rejected one after an- 
 other, Talpers watched the tent until mid- 
 night, the half-breed sleeping near at hand. 
 Then Bill turned in while McFann kept 
 watch. As for Helen, she slept the sleep of 
 exhaustion until wakened by the touch of 
 daylight on the canvas. 
 
 With senses preternaturally sharpened, as 
 they generally are during one's first hours in 
 the wilderness, Helen listened. She heard 
 Talpers stirring about among the horses. It 
 was evident that he was alarmed about 
 something, as he was pulling the picket-pins 
 and bringing the animals closer to the center 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 201 
 
 of the glade. McFann had been looking 
 down the valley from the sentinel rock. She 
 did not hear him come into camp, as k the 
 half-breed always moved silently through 
 underbrush that would betray the presence 
 of any one less skilled in woodcraft. She 
 heard his monosyllabic answers to Talpers's 
 questions. Then Bill himself pushed his way 
 through the underbrush and climbed the 
 rock. When he returned to the camp he 
 came to the tent. 
 
 "I don't mind tellin' you that Plenty 
 Buffalo is out there on the trail, with an 
 Injun policeman or two. That young agent 
 don't seem to have had nerve enough to 
 come along," said Talpers, producing a small 
 rope. "I'll have to tie your hands awhile, 
 just to make sure you don't try gittin' 
 away. I 'm goin' to tell 'em that at the first 
 sign of rushin' the camp you're goin' to be 
 shot. What's more I'm goin' to mean what 
 I tell 'em." 
 
 Talpers tied Helen's hands behind her. 
 He left the flaps of the tent open as he 
 picked up his rifle and returned to McFann, 
 
202 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 who was sitting on a log, composedly 
 enough, keeping watch of the other end of 
 the glade where the trail entered. Helen 
 sank to her knees, with her back to the rear 
 of the tent, so she could command a better 
 view. The tent had been staked down se- 
 curely around the edges, so there was no 
 opportunity for her to crawl under. 
 
 Apparently the two men in the glade, as 
 Helen saw them through the inverted V of 
 the open tent flaps, were most peacefully 
 inclined. They sat smoking and talking, 
 and, from all outward appearances, might 
 have been two hunters talking over the 
 day's prospects. Suddenly they sprang to 
 their feet, and, with rifles in readiness, 
 looked toward the trail, which was hidden 
 from Helen's vision. 
 
 "Don't come any nearer, Plenty Buffalo," 
 called Talpers, in Indian language. "If you 
 try to rush the camp, the first thing we '11 do 
 is to kill this girl. The only thing for you to 
 do is to go back." 
 
 Then followed a short colloquy, Helen be- 
 ing unable to hear Plenty Buffalo's voice. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 203 
 
 Evidently he was well down the trail, 
 hidden in the trees, and was making no 
 further effort to approach. The men sat 
 down again, watching the trail and evi- 
 dently figuring out their plan of escape. 
 There was no means of scaling the mountain 
 wall behind them. Horses could not pos- 
 sibly climb that steep slope, covered with 
 such a tangle of trees and undergrowth, but 
 it was possible to proceed farther along the 
 upper edge of the valley until finally timber- 
 line was reached, after which the party could 
 drop over the divide into the happy little 
 kingdom just off the reservation where a 
 capable man with the branding-iron was 
 always welcome and where the authorities 
 never interfered. 
 
 Helen listened for another call from 
 Plenty Buffalo, but the minutes dragged 
 past and no summons came. The silence of 
 the forest became almost unbearable. The 
 men sat uneasily, casting occasional 'glances 
 back at the tent, and making sure that 
 Helen was remaining quiet. Finally Plenty 
 Buffalo called again. There was another 
 
2o 4 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 brief parley and Talpers renewed his threats. 
 While the talk was going on, Helen heard a 
 slight noise behind her, Turning her head, 
 she saw the point of a knife cutting a long 
 slit in the back of the tent. Then Fire Bear's 
 dark face peered in through the opening. 
 The Indian's long brown arm reached forth 
 and the bonds at Helen's wrists were cut. 
 The arm disappeared through the slit in the 
 canvas, beckoning as it did so. Helen backed 
 slowly toward the opening that had been 
 made. 
 
 The talk between Plenty Buffalo and 
 Talpers was still going on. Helen waited 
 until both men had glanced around at her. 
 Then, as they turned their heads once more 
 toward Plenty Buffalo's hiding-place, she 
 half leaped, half fell through the opening in 
 the tent. A strong hand kept her from fall- 
 ing and guided her swiftly through the 
 underbrush back of the tent. Her face was 
 scratched by the bushes that swung back 
 as the half -naked Indian glided ahead of her, 
 but, in almost miraculous fashion, she found 
 a traversable path opened. Torn and bleed- 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 205 
 
 ing, she flung herself behind a rock, just as a 
 shout from the camp told that her disap- 
 pearance had been discovered. There was 
 a crashing of pursuers through the under- 
 brush, but a gun roared a warning, almost in 
 Helen's ear. 
 
 The shot was fired by Lowell, who, hatless 
 and with torn clothing, had followed Fire 
 Bear within a short distance of the camp. 
 Helen crouched against the rock, while 
 Lowell stood over her firing into the forest 
 tangle. Fire Bear stood nonchalantly be- 
 side Lowell. Helen noticed, wonderingly, 
 that there was not a scratch on the Indian's 
 naked shoulders, yet Lowell's clothes were 
 torn, and blood dripped from his palms 
 where he had followed Fire Bear along the 
 seemingly impassable way back of the camp. 
 
 One or two answering shots were fired, 
 but evidently Talpers and his companion 
 were afraid of an attack by Plenty Buffalo, 
 so no pursuit was attempted. 
 
 The Indian turned, and, motioning for 
 Lowell and Helen to follow, disappeared in 
 the undergrowth along the trail which he 
 
206 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 and the agent had made while Plenty Buf- 
 falo was attracting the attention of Talpers 
 and the half-breed. Helen tried to rise, but 
 the sudden ending of the mental strain 
 proved unnerving. She leaned against the 
 rock with her eyes closed and her body limp. 
 Lowell lifted her to her feet, almost roughly. 
 For a moment she stood with Lowell's arms 
 about her and his kisses on her face. Her 
 whiteness alarmed him. 
 
 "Tell me you have n't been harmed," he 
 cried. "If you have — " 
 
 "Just these scratches and a good riding- 
 suit in tatters," she answered, as she drew 
 away from him with a reassuring smile. 
 
 Lowell's brow cleared, and he laughed 
 gleefully, as he picked up his rifle. 
 
 "Well, there's just one more hard scram- 
 ble ahead," he replied, "and perhaps some 
 more tatters to add to what both of us have. 
 I'd carry you, but the best I can do is to 
 help you over some of the more difficult 
 places. Fire Bear has started. Have you 
 strength enough to try to follow?' 
 
 He led her along the trail taken by Fire 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 207 
 
 Bear — a trail in name only. The Indian 
 had waited for them a few yards away. 
 How much he had seen and heard when 
 Lowell held her in his arms Helen could only 
 surmise, but the thought sent the blood into 
 her cheeks with a rush. 
 
 It was as Lowell had said — another 
 scramble. At times it seemed as if she could 
 not go on, but always at the right time 
 Lowell gave the necessary help that en- 
 abled her to surmount some seemingly im- 
 passable obstacle. As for Fire Bear, he made 
 his way over huge rocks and along steep 
 pitches of shale with the ease of a serpent. 
 At last the way became somewhat less diffi- 
 cult to traverse, and, when they came out 
 on the trail by the stream, Helen realized 
 that the tax on her physical resources was 
 ended. 
 
 A short distance down the trail they met 
 Plenty Buffalo with two Indian policemen. 
 One of the police had been wounded in the 
 arm by a shot from Talpers. The trader 
 and McFann had hurriedly packed and 
 made their escape, leaving the white horse, 
 
ao8 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 which Plenty Buffalo had brought for 
 Helen. 
 
 After a hasty examination of the Indian's 
 arm it was decided to hurry back to the 
 agency for aid. 
 
 "I've sent out a call for more of the 
 Indian police," said Lowell. "They '11 prob- 
 ably be there when we get back to the 
 agency. We just picked up what help we 
 could find when we got word] of your disap- 
 pearance." 
 
 When Helen looked around for Fire Bear, 
 the Indian had disappeared. 
 
 " We never could have done anything 
 without Fire Bear," said Lowell, as he 
 swung into the saddle preparatory to the 
 homeward ride. "He is the greatest trailer 
 I ever saw. Probably he 's gone back to his 
 camp, now that this interruption in his reli- 
 gious ceremonies is over." 
 
 Plenty Buffalo led the way back to the 
 agency with the wounded policeman. Lowell 
 had examined the man's injury and was 
 satisfied that it was only superficial. The 
 policeman himself took matters with true 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 209 
 
 Indian philosophy, and galloped on with 
 Plenty Buffalo, the most unconcerned mem- 
 ber of the party. 
 
 Lowell rode with Helen, letting the others 
 go on ahead after they had reached the open 
 country beyond the foothills. He explained 
 the circumstances of the rescue — how 
 Wong had brought a note signed "Willis 
 Morgan," telling of Helen's disappearance. 
 At the same time Fire Bear had come to the 
 agency with the news that one of his young 
 men had seen McFann and Helen riding 
 toward the mountains. Fire Bear was con- 
 vinced that something was wrong and had 
 lost no time in telling Lowell. With Plenty 
 Buffalo and one or two Indian policemen 
 who happened to be at the agency, a posse 
 was hurriedly made up. Fire Bear took the 
 trail and followed it so swiftly and unerr- 
 ingly that the party was almost within 
 striking distance of the fugitives by night- 
 fall. A conference had been held, and it was 
 decided to let Plenty Buffalo parley with 
 Talpers and McFann from the trail, while 
 Fire Bear attempted the seemingly impos- 
 
aio MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 sible task of entering the camp from the side 
 toward the mountain. 
 
 Helen was silent during most of the ride 
 to the agency. Lowell ascribed her silence 
 to a natural reaction from the physical and 
 mental strain of recent hours. After reach- 
 ing the agency he saw that the wounded 
 policeman was properly taken care of. Then 
 Lowell and Helen started for the Greek 
 Letter Ranch in the agent's car, leaving her 
 horse to be brought over by one of the 
 agency employees. 
 
 "Do you intend to go back and take up 
 the chase for Talpers and McFann?" asked 
 Helen. 
 
 "Of course! Just as soon as I can get 
 more of the Indian police together." 
 
 "But they'll hardly be taken alive, will 
 they?" 
 
 "Perhaps not." 
 
 "That means that blood will be shed on 
 my account," declared Helen. "I'll not 
 have it! I don't want those men captured! 
 What if I refuse to testify against them?' 
 
 Lowell looked at her in amazement. Then 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 211 
 
 it came to him overwhelmingly that here 
 was the murder mystery stalking between 
 them once more, like a ghost. He recalled 
 Talpers's broad hint that Helen knew some- 
 thing of the case, and that if Bill Talpers 
 were dragged into the Dollar Sign affair the 
 girl at the Greek Letter Ranch would be 
 dragged in also. 
 
 "There is no need of the outside world 
 knowing anything about this," went on 
 Helen. "The Indian police do not report to 
 any one but you, do they?" 
 
 "No. Their lips are sealed so far as their 
 official duties are concerned." 
 
 "Fire Bear will have nothing to say?' 
 . " He has probably forgotten it by this time 
 in his religious fervor." 
 
 "Then I ask you to let th^se men go." 
 
 "If you will not appear against them," 
 said Lowell, "I can't see that anything will 
 be gained by bringing them in. But prob- 
 ably it would be a good thing to exterminate 
 them on the tenable ground that they are 
 general menaces to the welfare of society." 
 
 The girl's troubled expression returned. 
 
aia MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "On one condition I will send word to 
 Talpers that he may return," went on 
 Lowell. "That condition is that you re- 
 scind your order excluding me from the 
 Greek Letter Ranch. If Talpers comes back 
 I 've got to be allowed to drop around to see 
 that you are not spirited away." 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 Talpers was back in his store in two days. 
 Lowell [sent word that the trader might 
 return. At first Talpers was hesitant 'and 
 suspicious. There was a lurking fear in his 
 mind that the agent had some trick in view, 
 but, as life took its accustomed course, Bill 
 resumed his domineering attitude about the 
 store. A casual explanation that he had 
 been buying some cattle was enough to 
 explain his absence. 
 
 Bill's recent experiences had caused him 
 to regard the agent with new hatred, not 
 unmixed with fear. The obvious thing for 
 Lowell to have done was to have rushed 
 more men on the trail and captured Talpers 
 and McFann before they crossed the res- 
 ervation line. It could have been done, 
 with Fire Bear doing the trailing. Even the 
 half-breed admitted that much. But, in- 
 stead of carrying out such a programme, the 
 agent had sent Fire Bear and Plenty Buffalo 
 
214 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 with word that the trader might come back 
 — that no prosecution was intended. 
 
 Clearly enough such an unusual proceed- 
 ing indicated that the girl was still afraid on 
 account of the letter, and had persuaded the 
 agent to abandon the chase. There was 
 the key to the whole situation — the letter! 
 Bill determined to guard it more closely 
 than ever. He opened his safe frequently 
 to see that it was there. 
 
 As a whole, then, things were not break- 
 ing so badly, Bill figured. To be sure, it 
 would have cleared things permanently if 
 Jim McFann had done as he had been told, 
 instead of weakening in such unexpected 
 and absurd fashion. Bringing that girl into 
 camp, as Jim had done, had given Talpers 
 the most unpleasant surprise of his life. He 
 had come out of the affair luckily. The let- 
 ter was what had done it all. He would lie 
 low and keep an eye on affairs from now on. 
 McFann would have no difficulty in shifting 
 for himself out in the sagebrush, now that 
 he was alone. Bill would see that he got 
 grub and even a little whiskey occasionally, 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 215 
 
 but there would be no more assignments for 
 him in which women were concerned, for the 
 half-breed had too tender a heart for his own 
 good! 
 
 The Indian agent stopped at Bill's store 
 occasionally, on his way to and from the 
 Greek Letter Ranch. Their conversation 
 ran mostly to trade and minor affairs of life 
 in general. Even the weather was fallen 
 back upon in case some one happened to be 
 within earshot, which was usually the case, 
 as Bill's store was seldom empty. No one 
 who heard them would suspect that the 
 men were watching, weighing, and fathom- 
 ing each other with all the nicety at indi- 
 vidual command. Talpers was always won- 
 dering just how much the Indian agent 
 knew, and Lowell was saying to himself: 
 
 "This scoundrel has some knowledge in 
 his possession which vitally affects the 
 young woman I love. Also he is concerned, 
 perhaps deeply, in the murder on the Dol- 
 lar Sign road. Yet he has fortified him- 
 self so well in his villainy that he feels 
 
 secure." 
 
216 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 For all his increased feeling of security, 
 Talpers was wise enough to let the bottle 
 alone and also to do no boasting. Likewise 
 he stuck faithfully to his store — so faith- 
 fully that it became a matter of public com- 
 ment. 
 
 "If Bill sticks much closer to this store 
 he's goin' to fall into a decline/' said Andy 
 Wolters, who had been restored to favor in 
 the circle of cowpunchers that lolled about 
 Talpers's place. "He's gettin' a reg'lar 
 prison pallor now. He used to be hittin' the 
 trail once in a while, but nowadays he's 
 hangin' around that post-office section as if 
 he expected a letter notifyin' him that a rich 
 uncle had died." 
 
 "Mebbe he's afraid of travelin' these 
 parts since that feller was killed on the 
 Dollar Sign," suggested another cowboy. 
 "Doggoned if I don't feel a little shaky 
 myself sometimes when I 'm ridin' that road 
 alone at night. Looks like some of them 
 Injuns ought to have been hung for that 
 murder, right off the reel, and then folks 'd 
 feel a lot easier in their minds." 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 217 
 
 The talk then would drift invariably to 
 the subject of the murder and the general 
 folly of the court in allowing Fire Bear to 
 go on the Indian agent's recognizance. But 
 Talpers, though he heard the chorus of 
 denunciation from the back of the store, 
 and though he was frequently called upon 
 for an opinion, never could be drawn into 
 the conversation. He bullied his clerk as 
 usual, and once in a while swept down, in a 
 storm of baseless anger, upon some unof- 
 fending Indian, just to show that Bill Tal- 
 pers was still a man to be feared, but for the 
 most part he waited silently, with the con- 
 fidence of a man who holds a winning hand 
 at cards. 
 
 The same days that saw Talpers's con- 
 fidence returning were days of dissatisfac- 
 tion to Lowell. He felt that he was being 
 constantly thwarted. He would have pre- 
 ferred to give his entire attention to the 
 murder mystery, but details of reservation 
 management crowded upon him in a way 
 that made avoidance impossible. Among 
 his duties Lowell found that he must act as 
 
218 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 judge and jury in many cases that came 
 up. There were domestic difficulties to be 
 straightened out, and thieves and brawlers 
 to be sentenced. Likewise there was occa- 
 sional flotsam, cast up from the human sea 
 outside the reservation, which required at- 
 tention. 
 
 One of those reminders of the outer world 
 was brought in by an Indian policeman. The 
 stranger was a rough-looking individual, to 
 all appearances a harmless tramp, who had 
 been picked up "hoofing it" across the 
 reservation. 
 
 The Indian policeman explained, through 
 the interpreter, that he had found the wan- 
 derer near a sub-agency, several miles away 
 — that he had shown a disposition to fight, 
 and had only been cowed by the prompt 
 presentation of a revolver at his head. 
 
 " Why, you 're no tramp — you 're a yegg- 
 man," said Lowell to the prisoner, inter- 
 rupting voluble protestations of innocence. 
 "You're one of the gentry that live off 
 small post-offices and banks. I'll bet you 
 Ve stolen stamps enough in your career to 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 219 
 
 keep the Post-Office Department going six 
 months. And you've given heart disease 
 to no end of stockholders in small banks — 
 prosperous citizens who have had to make 
 good the losses caused by your safe-breaking 
 operations. Am I bringing an unjust in- 
 dictment against you, pardner? " 
 
 A flicker of a smile was discernible some- 
 where in the tangle of beard that hid the 
 lineaments of the prisoner's face. 
 
 "If I inventoried the contents of this 
 bundle," continued Lowell, "I'd find a 
 pretty complete outfit of the tools that keep 
 the safe companies working overtime on 
 replacements, would n't I?" 
 
 The prisoner nodded. 
 
 "There's no use of my dodgin', judge," 
 he said. "The tools are there — all of 'em. 
 But I 'm through with the game. All I want 
 now is enough of a stake to get me back 
 home to Omaha, where the family is. That 's 
 why I was footin' it acrost this Injun coun- 
 try — takin' a short cut to a railroad where 
 I would n't be watched for." 
 
 "I'll consider your case awhile," re- 
 
220 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 marked Lowell after a moment's thought. 
 "Perhaps we can speed you on your way to 
 Omaha and the family." 
 
 The prisoner was taken back to the agency 
 jail leaving his bundle on Lowell's desk. 
 About midnight Lowell took the bundle 
 and, going to the jail, roused the policeman 
 who was on guard and was admitted to the 
 prisoner's cell. 
 
 "Look here, Red," said Lowell. "Your 
 name is Red, is n't it?" 
 
 "RedEgan." 
 
 "Well, Red Egan, did you ever hear of 
 Jimmy Valentine?" 
 
 The prisoner scratched his head while he 
 puffed at a welcome cigarette. 
 
 "No? Well, Red, this Jimmy Valentine 
 was in the business you're quitting, and he 
 opened a safe in a good cause. I want you 
 to do the same for me. If you can do a neat 
 job, with no noise, I'll see that you get 
 across the reservation all right, with stake 
 enough to get you to Omaha." 
 
 "You're on, judge! I'd crack one more 
 for a good scout like you any day." 
 
MYSTERY RANCH ii\ 
 
 Three quarters of an hour later Red Egan 
 was working professionally upon the safe 
 in Bill Talpers's store. The door to Tal- 
 pers's sleeping-room was not far away, but 
 it was closed, and the trader was a thorough 
 sleeper, so the cracksman might have been 
 conducting operations a mile distant, so far 
 as interruption from Bill was concerned. 
 
 As he worked, Red Egan told whispered 
 stories to a companion — stories which re- 
 lated to barriers burned, pried, and blown 
 away. 
 
 "I don't mind how close they sleep to 
 their junk/' observed Red, as he rested mo- 
 mentarily from his labors. " Unless a man's 
 got insomnier and insists on makin' his bed 
 on top of his safe, he ain't got a chance to 
 make his iron doors stay shut if one of the 
 real good 'uns takes a notion to make 'em 
 fly apart. There she goes!' he added a 
 moment later, as the safe door swung 
 open. 
 
 "All right, Red," came the whispered 
 reply, "but remember that I get whatever 
 money 's in sight, just for appearances' sake, 
 
222 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 though it 's letters and such things I 'm really 
 after." 
 
 "It goes as you say, boss, and I hope you 
 get what you want. There goes that inside 
 door." 
 
 In the light of a flash-lamp Lowell saw a 
 letter and a roll of bills. He took both, while 
 Red Egan, his work done, packed up the 
 kit of tools. 
 
 Lowell had recognized Helen's hand- 
 writing on the envelope, and knew he had 
 found what he wanted. 
 
 "You've earned that trip to Omaha, 
 Red," said Lowell, after they had gone back 
 to their horses which had been standing in a 
 cottonwood grove near by. "When we get 
 back to the agency I'll put you in my car 
 and drive you far enough by daybreak so 
 that you can catch a train at noon.' : 
 
 " You 're a square guy, judge, but if that 's 
 the letter you've been wan tin' to get, why 
 don't you read it? Or maybe you know 
 what's in it without readin' it." 
 
 "No, I don't know what's in it, and I 
 don't want to read it, Red." 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 223 
 
 Red's amazed whistle cut through the 
 night silence. 
 
 "Well, if that ain't the limit! Havin' a 
 safe-crackin' job done for a letter that you 
 ain't ever seen and don't want to see the 
 inside of!" 
 
 "It's all right, Red. Don't worry about 
 it, because you 've earned your money twice 
 over to-night. Don't look on your last job 
 as a failure, by any means." 
 
 A few hours later the Indian agent, not 
 looking like a man who had been up all 
 night, halted his car at Talpers's store, after 
 he had received an excited hail from Andy 
 Wolters. 
 
 "You're jest in time!" exclaimed Andy. 
 "Bill Talpers's safe has been cracked and 
 Bill is jest now tryin' to figger the damage. 
 He says he 's lost a roll of money and some 
 other things." 
 
 Lowell found Talpers going excitedly 
 through the contents of his broken safe. It 
 was not the first time the trader had pawed 
 over the papers. Nor were the oaths that 
 
22 4 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 fell on Lowell's ears the first that the trader 
 had uttered since the discovery that he had 
 been robbed as he slept. 
 
 It was plain enough that Talpers was suf- 
 fering from a deeper shock than could come 
 through any mere loss of money. Not even 
 when Lowell contrived to drop the roll of 
 bills, where the trader's clerk picked it up 
 with a whoop of glee, did Talpers's expres- 
 sion change. His oaths were those of a man 
 distraught, and the contumely he heaped 
 upon Sheriff Tom Redmond moved that 
 official to a spirited defense. 
 
 " I can 't see why you hold me responsible 
 for a safe that you've been keeping within 
 earshot all these years," retorted Tom, in 
 answer to Talpers's sneers about the lack 
 of protection afforded the county's business 
 men. "If you can't hear a yeggman work- 
 ing right next to your sleeping-quarters, 
 how do you expect me to hear him, 'way 
 over to White Lodge? I '11 leave it to Lowell 
 here if your complaint is reasonable. I '11 do 
 the best I can to get this man, but it looks 
 to me as if he's made a clean getaway. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 225 
 
 What sort of papers was it you said you 
 lost, Bill?" 
 
 "I did n't say." 
 
 "Well, then, I'm asking you. Was they 
 long or short, rolled or flat, or tied with pink 
 ribbon?" 
 
 "Never mind!" roared Talpers. "You 
 round up this burglar and let me go through 
 him. I '11 get what 's mine, 11 right. ,: 
 
 Redmond made a gesture of despair. A 
 man who had been robbed and had recov- 
 ered his money, and was so keen after papers 
 that he would n't or could n't describe, was 
 past all fooling with. The sheriff rode off, 
 grumbling, without even questioning Lowell 
 to ascertain if the Indian police had seen 
 any suspicious characters on the reservation. 
 
 Bill Talpers's mental convolutions fol- 
 lowing the robbery reminded Lowell of the 
 writhing of a wounded snake. Bill's fear 
 was that the letter would be picked up and 
 sent back to the girl at the Greek Letter 
 Ranch. Suspicion of a plot in the affair did 
 not enter his head. To him it was just a 
 sinister stroke of misfortune — one of the 
 
226 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 chance buffets of fate. One tramp burglar 
 out of the many pursuing that vocation had 
 happened upon the Talpers establishment 
 at a time when its proprietor was in an un- 
 usually sound sleep. Bill gave himself over 
 to thoughts of the various forms of punish- 
 ment he would inflict upon the wandering 
 yeggman in case a capture were effected — 
 thoughts which came to naught, as Red 
 Egan had been given so generous a start 
 toward his Omaha goal that he never was 
 headed. 
 
 As the days went past and the letter was 
 not discovered, Bill began to gather hope. 
 Perhaps the burglar, thinking the letter of 
 no value, had destroyed it, in natural dis- 
 gust at finding that he had dropped the 
 money which undoubtedly was the real 
 object of his safe-breaking. 
 
 If Talpers had known what had really 
 happened to the letter, all his self-comfort- 
 ings would have vanished. Lowell had lost 
 no time in taking the missive to Helen. He 
 had found affairs at the Greek Letter Ranch 
 apparently unchanged. Wong was at work 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 227 
 
 in the kitchen. Two Indians, who had been 
 hired to harvest the hay, which was the only 
 crop on the ranch, were busy in a near-by 
 field. Helen, looking charming in a house 
 dress of blue, with white collar and cuffs, 
 was feeding a tame magpie when Lowell 
 drove into the yard. 
 
 "Moving picture entitled 'The Metamor- 
 phosis of Miss Tatters/ " said Lowell, 
 amusedly surveying her. 
 
 "The scratches still survive, but the 
 riding-suit will take a lot of mending," said 
 Helen, showing her scratched hands and 
 wrists. 
 
 "Well, if this very becoming costume has 
 a pocket, here 's something to put in it," re- 
 marked Lowell, handing her the letter. 
 
 Helen's smile was succeeded by a startled, 
 anxious look, as she glanced at the envelope 
 and then at Lowell. 
 
 "No need for worry," Lowell assured her. 
 "Nobody has read that letter since it passed 
 out of the possession of our esteemed post- 
 master, Bill Talpers, sometime after one 
 o'clock this morning." 
 
228 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "But how did he come to give it up?" 
 asked Helen, her voice wavering. 
 
 "He did not do so willingly. It might be 
 said he did not give it up knowingly. As a 
 matter of fact, our friend Talpers had no 
 idea he had lost his precious possession until 
 it had been gone several hours." 
 
 "But how—" 
 
 " 'How' is a word to be flung at Red 
 Egan, knight of the steel drill and the nitro 
 bottle and other what-nots of up-to-date 
 burglary," said Lowell. "Though I saw the 
 thing done, I can't tell you how. I only 
 hope it clears matters for you." H 
 
 "It does in a way. I cannot tell you how 
 grateful I am," said Helen, her trembling 
 hands tightly clutching the letter. 
 
 "Only in a way? I am sorry it does not 
 do more." 
 
 "But it's a very important way, I assure 
 you ! " exclaimed Helen. "It eliminates this 
 man — this Talpers — as a personal men- 
 ace. But when you are so eager to get every 
 thread of evidence, how is it that you can 
 give this letter to me, unread? You must 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 119 
 
 feel sure it has some bearing" on the awful 
 thing — the tragedy that took place back 
 there on the hill." 
 
 "That is where faith rises superior to a 
 very human desire to look into the details 
 of mystery," said Lowell. "If I were a real 
 detective, or spy, as you characterized me, 
 I would have read that letter at the first 
 opportunity. But I knew that my reading 
 it would cause you grave personal concern. 
 I have faith in you to the extent that I be- 
 lieve you would do nothing to bring injus- 
 tice upon others. Consequently, from now 
 on I will proceed to forget that this letter 
 ever existed." 
 
 "You may regret that you have acted in 
 this generous manner," said the girl. " What 
 if you find that all your faith has been mis- 
 placed — that I am not worthy of the 
 trust—" 
 
 "Really, there is nothing to be gained 
 by saying such things," interposed Lowell. 
 "As I told you, I am forgetting that the 
 letter ever existed." 
 
 "Do you know," she said, "I wish this 
 
2 3 o MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 letter could have come back to me from any 
 one but you?" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because, coming as it has, I am more 
 or less constrained to act as fairly as you 
 believe I shall act." 
 
 "You might give it back to Talpers and 
 start in on any sort of a deal you chose." 
 
 "Impossible! For fear Talpers may get 
 it, here is what I shall do to the letter." 
 
 Here Helen tore it in small pieces 
 and tossed them high in the air, the 
 breeze carrying them about the yard like 
 snow. 
 
 "In which event," laughed Lowell, "it 
 seems that I win, and my faith in you is to 
 be justified." 
 
 "I wish I could assure you of as much," 
 answered Helen sadly. "But if it happens 
 that your trust is not justified, I hope you 
 will not think too harshly of me." 
 
 "Harshly!" exclaimed Lowell. "Harsh- 
 ly! Why, if you practiced revolver shoot- 
 ing on me an hour before breakfast every 
 morning, or if you used me for a doormat 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 23 1 
 
 here at the Greek Letter Ranch, I could n't 
 think anything but lovingly of you." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Helen, clapping her hands 
 over her ears and running up the porch steps, 
 as Lowell turned to his automobile. " You Ve 
 almost undone all the good you've accom- 
 plished to-day." 
 
 "Thanks for that word "almost,"' 
 laughed Lowell. 
 
 "Then I'll make it 'quite,' " flung Helen, 
 but her words were lost in the shifting of 
 gears as Lowell started back to the agency. 
 
 That night Helen dreamed that Bill Tal- 
 pers, on hands and knees, was moving like 
 a misshapen shadow about the yard in the 
 moonlight picking up the letter which she 
 had torn to pieces. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Sheriff Tom Redmond sat in Lowell's 
 office at the agency, staring grimly across 
 at the little park, where the down from the 
 cottonwood trees clung to the grass like 
 snow. The sheriff had just brought himself 
 to a virtual admission that he had been in 
 the wrong. 
 
 "I was going to say/ 5 remarked Tom, 
 "that, in case you catch Jim McFann, per- 
 haps the best thing would be for you to sort 
 o' close-herd him at the agency jail here 
 until time for trial." 
 
 Lowell looked at the sheriff inquiringly. 
 
 "I '11 admit that I 've been sort of clamor- 
 ing for you to let me bring a big posse over 
 here and round up McFann in a hurry. 
 Well, I don't believe that scheme would 
 work." 
 
 "I'm glad we agree on that point." 
 
 "You've been taking the ground that 
 unless we brought a lot of men over, we 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 233 
 
 could n't do any better than the Injun 
 police in the matter of catching this half- 
 breed. Also you 've said that if we did bring 
 a small army of cattlemen, it would only 
 be a lynching party, and Jim McFann'd 
 never live to reach the jail at White Lodge.' 1 
 
 "I don't think anything could stop a 
 lynching." 
 
 "Well, I believe you 're right. The boys 
 have been riding me, stronger and stronger, 
 to get up a posse and come over here. In 
 fact, they got so strong that I suspected 
 they had something up their sleeves. When 
 I sort o' backed up on the proposition, a lot 
 of them began pulling wires at Washington, 
 so's to make you get orders that'd let us 
 come on the reservation and get both of 
 these men." 
 
 "I know it," said Lowell, "but they've 
 found they can't make any headway, even 
 with their own Congressmen, because Judge 
 Garford's stand is too well known. He's let 
 everybody know that he's against anything 
 that may bring about a lynching. So far as 
 the Department is concerned, I've put mat- 
 
234 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 ters squarely up to it and have been advised 
 to use my own judgment." 
 
 "Well, I never seen people so wrought up, 
 and I 'm free to admit now that if Jim Mc- 
 Fann hadn't broke jail he'd have been 
 lynched on the very day that he made his 
 getaway. The only question is — do you 
 think you can get him before the trial, and 
 are you sure the Injun '11 come in?" 
 
 "I'm not sure of. anything, of course," 
 replied Lowell, "but I've staked everything 
 on Fire Bear making good his word. If he 
 doesn't, I'm ready to quit the country. 
 McFann's a different proposition. He has 
 been too clever for the police, but I have 
 rather hesitated about having Plenty Buf- 
 falo risk the lives of his men, because I have 
 had a feeling that McFann might be reached 
 in a different way. I'm sure he's been get- 
 ting supplies from the man who has been 
 using him in bootlegging operations." 
 
 "You mean Talpers?" 
 
 "Yes. If McFann is mixed up in any- 
 thing, from bootlegging to bigger crimes, he 
 is only a tool. He can be a dangerous tool — 
 

 MYSTERY RANCH 2 3S 
 
 that 's admitted — but I 'd like to gather in 
 the fellow who does the planning." 
 
 "By golly ! I wish I had you working with 
 me on this murder case," said Redmond, in 
 a burst of confidence. "I'll admit I never 
 had anything stump me the way this case 
 has. I'm bringing up against a blank wall 
 at every turn." 
 
 "Haven't you found out anything new 
 about Sargent?" 
 
 "Not a thing worth while. He lived 
 alone — had lots of money that he made by 
 inventing mining machinery." 
 
 "Any relatives?" 
 
 "None that we can find out about.' 3 
 
 "Have you learned anything through his 
 bank?" 
 
 "He had plenty of money on deposit; 
 that's all." 
 
 "Did he have any lawyers?" 
 
 "Not that we've heard from." 
 
 "Does any one know why he came on 
 this trip?" 
 
 "No; but he was in the habit of making 
 long jaunts alone through the West.' 2 
 
236 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "What sort of a home did he have? " 
 
 "A big house in the suburbs. Lived there 
 alone with two servants. They have n't 
 been able to tell a thing about him that's 
 worth a cuss." 
 
 " Would anything about his home indicate 
 what sort of a man he was? " 
 
 "The detectives wrote something about 
 his having a lot of Indian things — Navajo 
 blankets and such." 
 
 "Indians may have been his hobby. Per- 
 haps he intended to visit this reserva- 
 tion." 
 
 "If that was so, why should he drive 
 through the agency at night and be killed 
 going away from the reservation? No, he 
 was going somewhere in a hurry or he 
 would n't have traveled at night." 
 
 "But automobile tourists sometimes 
 travel that way." 
 
 "Not in this part of the country. In the 
 Southwest, perhaps, to avoid the heat of the 
 day." 
 
 "Well, what do you think about it all, 
 Tom?" 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 237 
 
 "That this feller was a pilgrim, going 
 somewhere in a hurry. He was held up by 
 some of your young bucks who were off the 
 reservation and feeling a little too full of 
 life for their own good. A touch of bootleg 
 whiskey might have set them going. Mebbe 
 that's where Jim McFann came in. They 
 might have killed the man when he resisted. 
 The staking-out was probably an after- 
 thought — a piece of Injun or half-breed 
 devilment." 
 
 "How about the sawed-off shotgun? 
 I doubt if there's one on the reservation." 
 
 "Probably that was Sargent's own 
 weapon. He had traveled in the West a 
 good many years. Mebbe he had used 
 sawed-off shotguns as an express messenger 
 or something of the sort in early days. It 's a 
 fact that there ain 't any handier weapon of 
 defense than a sawed-off shotgun, no mat- 
 ter what kind of a wheeled outfit you're 
 traveling in." 
 
 "It's all reasonable enough, Tom,' 3 said 
 Lowell reflectively. "It may work out just 
 as you have figured, but frankly I don't 
 
23 8 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 believe the Indians and McFann are in it 
 quite as far as you think." 
 
 "Well, if they did n't] do it, who could 
 have? You've been over the ground more 
 than any one else. Have you found any- 
 thing to hang a whisper of suspicion on?' 
 
 Lowell shook his head. 
 
 "Nothing to talk about, but there are 
 some things, indefinite enough, perhaps, 
 that make me hesitate about believing the 
 Indians to be guilty." 
 
 "How about McFann? He's got the 
 nerve, all right." 
 
 "Yes, McFann would kill if it came to a 
 showdown. There's enough Indian in him, 
 too, to explain the staking-down." 
 
 "He admits he was on the scene of the 
 murder." 
 
 "Yes, and his admission strengthens me 
 in the belief that he 's telling the truth, or at 
 least that he had no part in the actual 
 killing. If he were guilty, he 'd deny being 
 within miles of the spot." 
 
 "Mebbe you're right,' 3 said the sheriff, 
 rising and turning his hat in his hand and 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 239 
 
 methodically prodding new and geometri- 
 cally perfect indentations in its high crown, 
 "but you've got a strong popular opinion 
 to buck. Most people believe them Injuns 
 and the breed have a guilty knowledge of 
 the murder." 
 
 "When you get twelve men in the jury 
 box saying the same thing," replied Lowell, 
 "that's going to settle it. But until then 
 I'm considering the case open." 
 
 Jim McFann's camp was in the loneliest 
 of many lonely draws in the sage-gray up- 
 lands where the foothills and plains meet. 
 It was not a camp that would appeal to the 
 luxury-loving. In fact, one might almost fall 
 over it in the brush before knowing that a 
 camp was there. A "tarp" bed was spread 
 on the hard, sun-cracked soil. A saddle 
 was near by. There was a frying-pan or two 
 at the edge of a dead fire. A pack-animal 
 and saddle horse stood disconsolately in the 
 greasewood, getting what slender grazing 
 was available, but not being allowed to 
 wander far. It was the camp of one who 
 
2 4 o MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "traveled light" and was ready to go at an 
 instant's notice. 
 
 So well hidden was the half-breed that, in 
 spite of explicit directions that had been 
 given by Bill Talpers, Andy Wolters had a 
 difficult time in finding the camp. Talpers 
 had sent Andy as his emissary, bearing grub 
 and tobacco and a bottle of whiskey to the 
 half-breed. Andy had turned and twisted 
 most of the morning in the monotony of 
 sage. Song had died upon his lips as the sun 
 had beaten upon him with all its unclouded 
 vigor. 
 
 Andy did not know it, but for an hour he 
 had been under the scrutiny of the half- 
 breed, who had been quick to descry the 
 horseman moving through the brush. Mc- 
 Fann had been expecting Talpers, and he 
 was none too pleased to find that the trader 
 had sent the gossiping cowpuncher in his 
 stead. Andy, being one of those ingenuous 
 souls who never can catch the undercurrents 
 of life, rattled on, all unconscious of the 
 effect of light words, lightly flung. 
 
 "You dig the grub and other stuff out o* 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 241 
 
 that pack,' 3 said Andy, "while I hunt an 
 inch or two of shade and cool my brow. 
 When it comes to makin' a success of hidin' 
 out in the brush, you can beat one of them 
 renegade steers that we miss every round- 
 up. I guess you ain't heard about the rob- 
 bery that's happened in our metrolopis of 
 Talpersville, have you?" 
 
 The half-breed grunted a negative. 
 
 "Of course not, seein' as you ain't gettin' 
 the daily paper out here. Well, an expert 
 safe-buster rode Bill Talpers's iron treasure- 
 chest to a frazzle the other night. Took 
 valuable papers that Bill's all fussed up 
 about, but dropped a wad of bills, big 
 enough to choke one of them prehistoric 
 bronks that used to romp around in these 
 hills." 
 
 McFann looked up scowlingly from his 
 task of estimating the amount of grub that 
 had been sent. 
 
 "Seems to me," went on Andy, "that if I 
 got back my money, I would n't give a durn 
 about papers — not unless they was papers 
 that established my rights as the long-lost 
 
242 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 heir of some feller with about twenty million 
 dollars. That roll had a thousand-dollar bill 
 wrapped around the outside." 
 
 The half-breed straightened up. 
 
 "How do you know there was a thousand- 
 dollar bill in that roll?" he demanded, with 
 an intensity that surprised the cowboy. 
 
 "Bill told me so himself. He had took a 
 few snifters, and was feelin' melancholy over 
 them papers, and I tried to cheer him up by 
 tellin' him jest what I've told you, that as 
 long as I had my roll back, I would n't care 
 about all the hen-tracks that spoiled nice 
 white paper. He chirked up a bit at that, 
 and got confidential and told me about this 
 thousand-dollar bill. They say it ain't the 
 only one he had. The story is that he sprung 
 one on an Injun the other day in payment 
 for a bunch o' steers. There must be lots 
 more profit in prunes and shawls and the 
 other things that Bill handles than most 
 people have been thinkin', with thousand- 
 dollar bills comin' so easy." 
 
 The half-breed was listening intently now. 
 He had ceased his work about the camp, 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 1243 
 
 and was standing, with hands clenched and 
 head thrust forward, eyeing Andy so nar- 
 rowly that the cowboy paused in his narra- 
 tive. 
 
 "What's the matter, Jim?" he asked; 
 "Bill did n't take any of them thousand- 
 dollar things from you, did he?" 
 & "Mebbe not, and mebbe so," enigmati- 
 cally answered the half-breed. "Go on and 
 tell me the rest." 
 
 When he had completed his story of the 
 robbery at Talpers's store, Andy tilted his 
 enormous sombrero over his eyes, and, lean- 
 ing back in the shade, fell asleep. The half- 
 breed worked silently about the camp, occa- 
 sionally going to a near-by knoll and looking 
 about for some sign of life in the sagebrush. 
 He made some biscuits and coffee and fried 
 some bacon, after which he touched Andy 
 none too gently with his moccasined foot 
 and told the cowboy to sit up and eat some- 
 thing. 
 
 After one or two ineffectual efforts to 
 start conversation, the visitor gave up in 
 disgust. The meal was eaten in silence. 
 
244 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 Even the obtuse Andy sensed that some- 
 thing was wrong, and made no effort to 
 rouse the half-breed, who ate grimly and 
 immediately busied himself with the dish- 
 washing as soon as the meal was over. Andy 
 soon took his departure, the half-breed 
 directing him to a route that would lessen 
 the chances of his discovery by the Indian 
 police. 
 
 After Andy had gone the half-breed 
 turned his attention to the bottle which had 
 been sent by Talpers. He visited the knoll 
 occasionally, but nothing alive could be dis- 
 cerned in the great wastes of sage. When 
 the shadows deepened and the chill of eve- 
 ning came down from the high altitudes of 
 the near-by peaks, McFann staked out his 
 ponies in better grazing ground. Then he 
 built a small camp-fire, and, sitting cross- 
 legged in the light, he smoked and drank, 
 and meditated upon the perfidy of Bill 
 Talpers. 
 
 McFann was astir at dawn, and there was 
 determination in every move as he brought 
 in the horses and began to break camp. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 245 
 
 The half-breed owned a ranch which had 
 come down to him from his Indian mother. 
 Shrewdly suspecting that the police had 
 ceased watching the ranch, Jim made his 
 way homeward. His place was located in 
 the bottom-land along a small creek. There 
 was a shack on it, but no attempt at culti- 
 vation. As he looked the place over, Jim's 
 thoughts became more bitter than ever. If 
 he had farmed this land, the way the agent 
 wanted him to, he could have been inde- 
 pendent by now, but instead of that he had 
 listened to Talpers's blandishments and now 
 had been thrown down by his professed 
 friend ! 
 
 Jim took off his pack and threw his camp- 
 ing equipment inside the shack. Then he 
 turned his pack-animal into the wild hay in 
 the pasture he had fenced off in the creek 
 bottom. He had some other live stock 
 roaming around in the little valley — 
 enough steers and horses to make a begin- 
 ning toward a comfortable independence, if 
 he had only had sense enough to start in 
 that way. Also there was good soil on the 
 
246 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 upland. He could run a ditch from the 
 creek to the nearest mesa, where the land 
 was red and sandy and would raise any- 
 thing. The reservation agriculturist had 
 been along and had shown him just how the 
 trick could be done, but Bill Talpers's boot- 
 legging schemes looked a lot better then ! 
 
 The half-breed slammed his shack door 
 shut and rode away with his greasy hat- 
 brim pulled well over his eyes. He paid little 
 attention to the demands he was making on 
 horseflesh, and he rode openly across the 
 country. If the Indian police saw him, he 
 could outdistance them. The thing that 
 he had set out to do could be done quickly. 
 After that, nothing mattered much. 
 
 Skirting the ridge on which Helen and 
 Lowell had stood, Jim made a detour as he 
 approached the reservation line and avoided 
 the Greek Letter Ranch. He swung into 
 the road well above the ranch, and, breast- 
 ing the hill where the murder had taken 
 place on the Dollar Sign, he galloped down 
 the slope toward Talpers's store. 
 
 The trader was alone in his store when the 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 247 
 
 half-breed entered. Talpers had seen Mc- 
 Fann coming, some distance down the road. 
 Something in the half-breed's bearing in the 
 saddle, or perhaps it was some inner stir of 
 guilty fear, made Talpers half-draw his re- 
 volver. Then he thrust it back into its hol- 
 ster, and, swinging around in his chair, 
 awaited his partner's arrival. He even at- 
 tempted a jaunty greeting. \ 
 
 " Hello, Jim," he called, as the half-breed's 
 lithe figure swung in through the outer door- 
 way; "ain't you even a little afraid of the 
 Injun police?" 
 
 McFann did not answer, but flung open 
 the door into Bill's sanctum. It was no un- 
 usual thing for the men to confer there, and 
 two or three Indians on the front porch did 
 not even turn their heads to see what was 
 going on inside. Talpers's clerk was out and 
 Andy Wolters had just departed, after re- 
 porting to the trader that the half-breed 
 had seemed "plumb uneasy out there in the 
 brush." Andy had not told Bill the cause of 
 McFann's uneasiness, but on that point the 
 trader was soon to be enlightened. 
 
248 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "Bill," said the half-breed purringly, "I 
 hear you 've been having your safe cracked." 
 
 Something in the half-breed's voice made 
 the trader wish he had not shoved back that 
 revolver. It would not do to reach for it 
 now. McFann's hands were empty, but he 
 was lightning in getting them to his guns. 
 
 The trader's lips seemed more than usu- 
 ally dry and cracked. His voice wheezed at 
 the first word, as he answered. 
 
 "Yes, Jim, I was robbed," he said. 
 Then he added, propitiatingly : "But I've 
 got a new safe. Ain't she a beauty? ' 
 
 "She sure is," replied McFann, though he 
 did not take his eyes off Talpers. "Got 
 your name on, and everything, Let's open 
 her up, and see what a real safe looks like 
 inside." 
 
 Talpers turned without question and 
 began fumbling at the combination. His 
 hands trembled, and once he dropped them 
 at his side. As he did so McFann's hands 
 moved almost imperceptibly. Their move- 
 ment was toward the half-breed's hips, and 
 Talpers brought his own hands quickly back 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 249 
 
 to the combination. The tumblers fell, and 
 the trader swung the door open. 
 
 " Purtier 'n a new pair of boots," approved 
 the half-breed, as a brave array of books and 
 inner drawers came in view. 'Now them 
 inside boxes. The one with the thousand- 
 dollar bill in it." 
 
 "Why, what's gittin' into you, Jim?" 
 almost whined Talpers. "You know I ain't 
 got any thousand-dollar bill." 
 
 "Don't lie to me," snapped the half- 
 breed, a harsh note coming into his voice. 
 " You've made your talk about a thousand- 
 dollar bill. I want to see it — that's all.' : 
 
 Slowly Talpers unlocked the inner strong 
 box and took therefrom a roll of money. 
 
 "There it is," he said, handing it to Mc- 
 Fann. A thousand-dollar bill was on the 
 outside of the roll. 
 
 "I ain't going to ask where you got that,' 5 
 said McFann steadily, "because you'd lie 
 to me. But I know. You took it from that 
 man oh the hill. You told me you'd jest 
 found him there when I come on you prowl- 
 ing around his body. You said you did n't 
 
250 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 take anything from him, and I was fool 
 enough to believe you. But you did n't get 
 these thousand-dollar bills anywhere else. 
 You double-crossed me, and if things got 
 too warm for you, you was going to saw 
 everything off on me. Easy enough when 
 I was hiding out there in the sagebrush, 
 living on what you wanted to send out to 
 me. I Ve done all this bootlegging work for 
 you, and I covered up for you in court, about 
 this murder, all because I thought you was 
 on the square. And all the time you had 
 took your pickings from this man on the hill 
 and had fooled me into thinking you did n't 
 find a thing on him. Here's the money, 
 Bill. I would n't take it away from you. 
 Lock it in your safe again — if you can ! ' 
 
 The half-breed flung the roll of bills in 
 Talpers's face. The trader, made desperate 
 by fear, flung himself toward McFann. If 
 he could pinion the half-breed's arms to his 
 side, there could be but one outcome to the 
 struggle that had been launched. The tra- 
 der's great weight and grizzly-like strength 
 would be too much for the wiry half-breed 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 251 
 
 to overcome. But McFann slipped easily 
 away from Talpers's clutching hands. The 
 trader brought up against the mailing desk 
 with a crash that shook the entire build- 
 ing. The heat of combat warmed his chilled 
 veins. Courage returned to him with a rush. 
 He roared oaths as he righted himself and 
 dragged his revolver from the holster on 
 his hip. 
 
 Before the trader's gun could be brought 
 to a shooting level, paralysis seemed to 
 seize his arm. Fire seared his side and 
 unbearable pain radiated therefrom. Only 
 the righting man's instinct kept him on his 
 feet. His knees sagged and his arm drooped 
 slowly, despite his desperate endeavors to 
 raise that blue-steel weapon to its target. 
 He saw the half-breed, smiling and defiant, 
 not three paces away, but seemingly in an- 
 other world. There was a revolver in Mc- 
 Fann's hand, and faint tendrils of smoke 
 came from the weapon. 
 
 Grimly setting his jaws and with his lips 
 parted in a mirthless grin, Talpers crossed 
 his left hand to his right. With both hands 
 
252 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 he tried to raise the revolver, but it only 
 sank lower. His knees gave way and he slid 
 to the floor, his back to his new safe and his 
 swarthy skin showing a pale yellow behind 
 his sparse, curling black beard. 
 
 'Put the money away, Bill, put it away, 
 quick,' 3 said McFann's mocking voice. 
 "There it is, under your knee. You sold out 
 your pardner for it — now hide it in your 
 new safe!" 
 
 Talpers's cracked lips formed no reply, but 
 his little black eyes glowed balef ully behind 
 their dark, lowering brows. 
 
 "You're good at shooting down harmless 
 Indians, Bill," jeered McFann, "but you're 
 too slow in a real fight. Any word you want 
 to send to the Indian agent? I'm going to 
 tell him I believe you did the murder on the 
 Dollar Sign road." 
 
 A last flare of rage caused Talpers to 
 straighten up. Then the paralysis came 
 again, stronger than before. The revolver 
 slipped from the trader's grasp, and his head 
 sank forward until his chin rested on his 
 broad chest. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 253 
 
 McFann looked contemptuously at the 
 great figure, helpless in death. Then he 
 lighted a cigarette, and, laughing at the ter- 
 ror of the Indians, who haH been peeping in 
 the window at the last of the tragedy, the 
 half-breed walked out of the store, and, 
 mounting his horse, rode to the agency and 
 gave himself up to LowelL 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Lowell consulted with Judge Garford 
 and Sheriff Tom Redmond, and it was de- 
 cided to keep Jim McFann in jail at the 
 agency until time for his trial for complicity 
 in the first murder on the Dollar Sign road. 
 
 Sheriff Redmond admitted that, owing 
 to the uncertainty of public sentiment, he 
 could not guarantee the half-breed's safety 
 if McFann were lodged in the county jail. 
 Consequently the slayer of Bill Talpers re- 
 mained in jail at the agency, under a strong 
 guard of Indian police, supplemented by 
 trustworthy deputies sent over by Redmond. 
 
 The killing of Talpers was the excuse for 
 another series of attacks on Lowell by the 
 White Lodge paper. Said the editor: 
 
 The murder of our esteemed neighbor, William 
 Talpers, by James McFann, a half-breed, is another 
 evidence of the necessity of opening the reservation 
 to white settlement. 
 
 This second murder on the Dollar Sign road is 
 not a mystery. Its perpetrator was seen at this 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 255 
 
 bloody work. Furthermore, he is understood to 
 have coolly confessed his crime. But, like the first 
 murder, which is still shrouded in mystery, this was 
 a crime which found its inception on the Indian 
 reservation. Are white residents adjacent to the 
 reservation to have their lives snuffed out at the 
 pleasure of Government wards and reservation off- 
 scourings in general? Has not the time come when 
 the broad acres of the Indian reservation, which 
 the redskins are doing little with, should be thrown 
 open to the plough of the white man? 
 
 "'Plough of the white man' is good/ 5 
 cynically observed Ed Rogers, after calling 
 Lowell's attention to the article. "If those 
 cattlemen ever get the reservation opened, 
 they'll keep the nesters out for the next 
 forty years, if they have to kill a home- 
 steader for every hundred and sixty acres. 
 So far as Bill Talpers's killing is concerned, 
 I can't see but what it is looked upon as a 
 good thing for the peace of the community." 
 
 It seemed to be a fact that Jim McFann's 
 act had appealed irresistibly to a large ele- 
 ment. Youthful cowpunchers rode for miles 
 and waited about the agency for a glimpse 
 of the gun-fighter who had slain the redoubt- 
 able Bill Talpers in such a manner. None of 
 
256 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 them could get near the jail, but they stood 
 in picturesque groups about the agency, lis- 
 tening to the talk of Andy Wolters and 
 others who had been on more or less inti- 
 mate terms with the principals in the affair. 
 "And there was me a-snoozin' in that 
 breed's camp the very day before he done 
 this shootin'," said Andy to an appreciative 
 circle. " He must have had this thing stew- 
 in' in his head at the time. It 's a wonder he 
 did n't throw down on me, jest for a little 
 target practice. But I guess he figgered he 
 did n't need no practice to get Bill Talpers, 
 and judgin' from the way things worked out, 
 his figgerin' was right. Some artist with the 
 little smoke machine, that boy, 'cause Bill 
 Talpers was n't no slouch at shootin' ! I re- 
 member seein' Bill shoot the head off a rat- 
 tlesnake at the side of the road, jest casual- 
 Kke, and when it come to producin' the 
 hardware he was some quick for a big man. 
 He more than met his match this time, old 
 Bill did. And, by gosh! you can bet that 
 nobody after this ever sends me out to any 
 dry camps in the brush to take supplies to 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 257 
 
 any gunman who may be hid out there. 
 Next time I might snooze and never wake 
 up. 
 
 All was not adulation for Jim McFann. 
 Because of the Indian strain in his blood a 
 minor undercurrent of prejudice had set in 
 against him, more particularly among the 
 white settlers and the cattlemen who were 
 casting covetous eyes on reservation lands. 
 While McFann was not strictly a ward of 
 the Government, he had land on the reserva- 
 tion. His lot was cast with the Indians, 
 chiefly because he found few white men who 
 would associate with him on account of his 
 Indian blood. Talpers was not loved, but 
 the killing of any white man by some one of 
 Indian ancestry was something to fan re- 
 sentment without regard to facts. Bets were 
 made that McFann would not live to be 
 tried on the second homicide charge against 
 him, many holding the opinion that he 
 would be hanged, with Fire Bear, for the 
 first murder. Also wagers were freely made 
 that Fire Bear would not be produced in 
 court by the Indian agent, and that it would 
 
25 8 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 be necessary to send a force of officers to get 
 the accused Indian. 
 
 Lowell apparently paid no attention to 
 the rumors that were flying about. A mass 
 of reservation detail had accumulated, and 
 he worked hard to get it out of the way be- 
 fore the trial. He had made changes in the 
 boarding-school system, and had established 
 an experimental farm at the agency. He 
 had supervised the purchase of livestock 
 for the improvement of the tribal flocks 
 and herds. In addition there had been the 
 personal demands that shower incessantly 
 upon every Indian agent who is interested 
 in his work. 
 
 Reports from the reservation agricultur- 
 ists, whose work was to help the Indians 
 along farming lines, were not encouraging. 
 Drought was continuing without abatement. 
 
 "The last rain fell the day before the 
 murder on the Dollar Sign road," said 
 Rogers. "Remember how we splashed 
 through mud the day we ran out there 
 and found that man staked down on the 
 prairie r 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 2 $9 
 
 "And now the Indians are saying that 
 the continued drought is due to Fire Bear's 
 medicine," observed Lowell. "Even some 
 of the more conservative Indians believe 
 there is no use trying to raise crops until the 
 charge against Fire Bear is dismissed and the 
 evil spell is lifted." 
 
 In spite of the details of reservation man- 
 agement that crowded upon him, Lowell 
 found time for occasional visits to the Greek 
 Letter Ranch to see Helen Ervin. He told 
 her the details of the Talpers shooting, so 
 far as he knew them. 
 
 "There is n't much that I can tell about 
 the cause of the shooting," said Lowell, in 
 answer to one of her questions. "I could 
 have had all the details, but I cautioned Jim 
 McFann to say nothing in advance of his 
 trial. But from what I have gathered here 
 and there, Jim and Talpers fell out over 
 money matters. A thousand-dollar bill was 
 found on the floor under Talpers's body. 
 It had evidently been taken from the safe, 
 and might have been what they fought 
 
 over." 
 
a6o MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 Helen nodded in comprehension of the 
 whole affair, though she did not tell Lowell 
 that he had made it clear to her. She guessed 
 that in some way Jim McFann had come 
 into possession of the facts of his partner 's 
 perfidy. She wondered how the half-breed 
 had found out that Talpers had taken 
 money from the murdered man and had not 
 divided. She had held that knowledge over 
 Talpers's head as a club. She could see 
 that he feared McFann, and she wondered 
 if, in his last moments, Talpers had wrong- 
 fully blamed her for giving the half-breed 
 the information which turned him into a 
 slayer. 
 
 "Anyway, it does n't make much differ- 
 ence what the fight was over," declared 
 Lowell. "Talpers had been playing a double 
 game for a long time. He tried just once 
 too often to cheat his partner — something 
 dangerous when that partner is a fiery- 
 tempered half-breed." 
 
 "Is this shooting of Talpers going to have 
 any effect on McFann's trial for the other 
 murder?" asked Helen. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 261 
 
 "It may inflame popular sentiment 
 against both men still further — something 
 that never seems to be difficult where Indi- 
 ans are concerned.' ' 
 
 Lowell tried in vain to lead the talk away 
 from the trial. 
 
 "Look here," he exclaimed finally, "you 
 're worrying yourself unnecessarily over 
 this ! I don't believe you 're getting much of 
 any sleep, and I'll bet Wong will testify 
 that you are eating very little. You must 
 n't let matters weigh on your mind so. 
 Talpers is gone, and you have the letter 
 that was in his safe and that he used as a 
 means of worrying you. Your stepfather is 
 getting better right along — so much so 
 that you can leave here at any time. Pretty 
 soon you'll have this place of tragedy off 
 your mind and you'll forget all about the 
 Indian reservation and everything it con- 
 tains. But until that time comes, I prescribe 
 an automobile ride for you every day. Some 
 of the roads around here will make it certain 
 that you will be well shaken before the 
 prescription is taken." 
 
a6i MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 Lowell regretted his light words as soon 
 as he had uttered them. 
 
 "This trial is my whole life," declared the 
 girl solemnly. "If those men are convicted, 
 there can never be another day of happiness 
 for me!" 
 
 On the morning set for the opening of the 
 trial, Lowell left his automobile in front of 
 his residence while he ate breakfast. To all 
 appearances there was nothing unusual 
 about this breakfast. It was served at the 
 customary time and in the customary way. 
 Apparently the young Indian agent was in- 
 terested only in the meal and in some letters 
 which had been sent over from the office, but 
 finally he looked up and smiled at the un- 
 easiness of his housekeeper, who had cast 
 frequent glances out of the window. 
 
 "What is it, Mrs. Ruel?" asked Lowell. 
 
 " The Indian — Fire Bear. Has he come?" 
 
 "Oh, that's what's worrying you, is it? 
 Well, don't let it do so any more. He will 
 be here all right." 
 
 Mrs. Ruel looked doubtful as she trotted 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 263 
 
 to the kitchen. Returning, she stood in the 
 window, a steaming coffee-pot in her hands. 
 
 "Tell me what you see, Sister Annie," 
 said Lowell smilingly. 
 
 "Nawthin' but the kids assemblin' for 
 school. There's old Pete, the blacksmith, 
 purtendin' to be lookin' your machine over, 
 when he 's just come to rubber the way I am, 
 f'r that red divvle. They're afraid, most 
 of the agency folks, that Fire Bear won't 
 show up. I would n't take an Injun's word 
 f'r annythin' myself — me that lost an uncle 
 in the Fetterman massacree. You're too 
 good to 'em, Mister Lowell. You should 
 have yanked this Fire Bear here in hand- 
 cuffs — him and McFann together." 
 
 "Your coffee is fine — and I'll be obliged 
 if you'll pour me some — but your philos- 
 ophy is that of the dark ages, Mrs. Ruel. 
 Thanks. Now tell me what traveler ap- 
 proaches on the king's highway." 
 
 Mrs. Ruel trotted to the window, with the 
 coffee-pot still in her hands. 
 
 "It's some one of them educated loafers 
 that's always hangin' around the trader's 
 
264 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 store. I c'n tell by the hang of the mail- 
 order suit. No, it ain't! He's climbin' off 
 his pony, and now he's jumped into the 
 back of your automobile, and is settin' 
 there, bold as brass, smokin' a cigarette. 
 It's Fire Bear himself!" 
 
 "I thought so," observed Lowell. "Now 
 another cup of coffee, please, and a little 
 more of that toast, and we'll be off to the 
 trial." 
 
 Mrs. Ruel returned to the kitchen, de- 
 claring that it really did n't prove anything 
 in general, because no other agent could 
 make them redskins do the things that Mis- 
 ter Lowell hypnotized 'em into doin'. 
 
 Lowell finished his breakfast and climbed 
 into his automobile, after a few words with 
 Fire Bear. The young Indian had started 
 the day before from his camp in the rocks. 
 He had traveled alone, and had not rested 
 until he reached the agency. Lowell knew 
 there would be much dancing in the Indian 
 camp until the trial was over. 
 
 Driving to the agency jail, Lowell had 
 McFann brought out. The half-breed, un- 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 265 
 
 manacled and without a guard, sat beside 
 Fire Bear in the back seat. Lowell decided 
 to take no policemen from the reservation. 
 He was certain that Fire Bear and McFann 
 would not try to escape from him. The 
 presence of Indian policemen might serve 
 only to fan the very uncertain public senti- 
 ment into disastrous flames. 
 
 White Lodge was crowded with cattle- 
 men and homesteaders and their families, 
 who had come to attend the trial. A public 
 holiday was made of the occasion, and White 
 Lodge had not seen such a crowd since the 
 annual bronco-busting carnival. 
 
 As he drove through the streets, Lowell 
 was conscious of a change in public feeling. 
 The prisoners in the automobile were eyed 
 curiously, but without hatred. In fact, Jim 
 McFann's killing of Talpers, which had been 
 given all sorts of dramatic renditions at 
 camp-fires and firesides, had raised that 
 worthy to the rank of hero in the eyes of the 
 majority. Also the coming of Fire Bear, 
 as he had promised, sent up the Indian's 
 stock. As Lowell took his men to the court- 
 
<i66 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 room he saw bets paid over by men who had 
 wagered that Fire Bear would not keep his 
 word and that he would have to be brought 
 to the court-room by force. 
 
 The court-house yard could not hold the 
 overflow of spectators from the court-room. 
 The crowd was orderly, though there was a 
 tremendous craning of necks wiien the pris- 
 oners were brought in, to see the man who 
 had killed so redoubtable a gunman as Bill 
 Talpers. Getting a jury was merely a mat- 
 ter of form, as no challenges w T ere made. 
 The trial opened with Fire Bear on the 
 stand. 
 
 The young Indian added nothing to the 
 testimony he had given at his preliminary 
 hearing. He told, briefly, how he and his 
 followers had found the body beside the 
 Dollar Sign road. The prosecuting attorney 
 was quick to sense a difference in the way 
 the Indian's story was received. When he 
 had first told it, disbelief was evident. To- 
 day it seemed to be impressing crowd and 
 jury as the truth. 
 
 The same sentiment seemed to be even 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 267 
 
 more pronounced when Jim McFann took 
 the stand, after Fire Bear's brief testimony 
 was concluded without cross-examination. 
 Audience and jury sat erect. Word was 
 passed out to the crowd that the half-breed 
 was testifying. In the court-room there was 
 such a stir that the bailiff was forced to rap 
 for order. 
 
 The prosecuting attorney, seeing the case 
 slipping away from him, was moved to fran- 
 tic denunciations. He challenged McFann's 
 every statement. 
 
 "You claim that you had lost your lariat 
 and were looking for it. Also that you came 
 upon this dead body, with your rope used to 
 fasten the murdered man to stakes that had 
 been driven into the prairie?" sneered the 
 attorney. 
 
 "Yes;" said McFann. 
 
 "And you claim that you were frightened 
 away by the arrival of Fire Bear and his 
 Indians before you had a chance to remove 
 the rope?" 
 
 "Yes; but I want to add something to 
 that statement," said the half-breed. 
 
268 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "All right — what is it?" 
 
 "There was another man by the body 
 when I came there looking for my rope." 
 
 "Who was that man?" 
 
 "Talpers." 
 
 A thrill ran through the court-room as the 
 half-breed went on and described how he 
 had found the trader stooping over the 
 murdered man, and how Talpers had shown 
 him a watch which he had taken from the 
 victim, but claimed that was all the valu- 
 ables that had been found. Also he de- 
 scribed how Talpers had prevailed upon 
 him to keep the trader's presence a secret, 
 which McFann had done in his previous 
 testimony. 
 
 " Why do you come in with this story, at 
 this late day?" asked the attorney. 
 
 "Because Talpers was lying to me all the 
 time. He had taken money from that man 
 — some of it in thousand-dollar bills. I did 
 not care for the money. It was just that this 
 man had lied to me, after I had done all his 
 bootlegging work. He was playing safe at 
 my expense. If it had been found that the 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 269 
 
 dead man was robbed, he was ready to lay 
 the blame on me. When I heard of the 
 money he had hidden, I knew the game he 
 had played. I walked in on him, and made 
 him take the dead man's money from his 
 safe. I threw the money in his face and 
 dared him to fight. When he tried to shoot 
 me, I killed him. It was better that he 
 should die. I don't care what you do with 
 me, but how are you going to hang Fire Bear 
 or hang me for being near that body, when 
 Bill Talpers was there first?" 
 
 Jim McFann's testimony remained un- 
 shaken. Cast doubt upon it as he would, 
 the prosecuting attorney saw that the half- 
 breed's new testimony had given an entirely 
 new direction to the trial. He ceased trying to 
 stem the tide and let the case go to the jury. 
 
 The crowd filed out, but waited around 
 the court-house for the verdict. The irre- 
 pressible cowpunchers, who had a habit of 
 laying wagers on anything and everything, 
 made bets as to the number of minutes the 
 jury would be out. 
 
 "Whichever way it goes, it'll be over in a 
 
270 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 hurry," said Tom Redmond to Lowell, "but 
 hanged if I don't believe your men are as 
 good as free this minute. Talpers's friends 
 have been trying to stir up a lot of sentiment 
 against Jim McFann, but it has worked the 
 other way. The hull county seems to think 
 right now that McFann done the right sort 
 of a job, and that Talpers was not only a 
 bootlegger, but was not above murder, and 
 was the man who committed that crime on 
 the Dollar Sign road. Of course, if Talpers 
 done it, Fire Bear could n't have. Further- 
 more, this young Injun has made an awful 
 hit by givin' himself up for trial the way he 
 has. To tell you the truth, I did n't think 
 he'd show up." 
 
 Lowell escaped as soon as he could from 
 the excited sheriff and sought Helen Ervin, 
 whom he had seen in the court-room. 
 
 "I'm sorry I could n't come to get you, 
 on account of having to bring in the pris- 
 oners," said Lowell, "but I imagine this is 
 the last ride to White Lodge you will have 
 to take. The jury is going to decide quickly 
 — or such is the general feeling." 
 
 b vuvlwl *^^""t>« 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 271 
 
 Lowell had hardly spoken when a shout 
 from the crowd on the court-house steps 
 announced to the others that the jury had 
 come in. 
 
 Lowell and Helen found places in the 
 court-room. Judge Garford had not left 
 his chambers. As soon as the crowd had 
 settled down, the foreman announced the 
 verdict. 
 
 "Not guilty!' was the word that was 
 passed to those outside the building. There 
 was a slight ripple of applause in the court- 
 room which the bailiff's gavel checked. 
 Lowell could not help but smile bitterly as 
 he thought of the different sentiment at the 
 close of the preliminary hearing, such a short 
 time before. He wondered if the same 
 thought had come to Judge Garford. But if 
 the aged jurist had made any comparisons, 
 they were not reflected in his benign fea- 
 tures. A lifetime among scenes of turbu- 
 lence, and watching justice gain steady 
 ascendancy over frontier lawlessness, had 
 made the judge indifferent to the manifesta- 
 tions of the moment. 
 
272 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "It's just as though we were a lot of 
 jumping-jacks," thought Lowell, "and while 
 we're doing all sorts of crazy things, the 
 judge is looking far back behind the scenes 
 studying the forces that are making us go. 
 And he must be satisfied with what he sees 
 or our illogical actions would n't worry him 
 so little." 
 
 Fire Bear and McFann took the verdict 
 with customary calm. The Indian was re- 
 leased from custody and took his [place in 
 Lowell's automobile. The half-breed was 
 remanded to jail for trial for the Talpers 
 slaying. Lowell, after saying good-bye to 
 the half-breed, lost no time in starting for 
 the agency. On the way he caught up with 
 Helen, who was riding leisurely homeward. 
 As he stopped the machine she reined up 
 her horse beside him and extended her hand 
 in congratulation. 
 
 "You're not the only one who is glad of 
 the acquittal," she exclaimed. "I am glad 
 — oh, I cannot tell you how much ! ", 
 
 Lowell noticed that her expression of girl- 
 ishness had returned. The shadow which 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 273 
 
 had fallen upon her seemed to have been 
 lifted miraculously. 
 
 " Was n't it strange the way things turned 
 out? " she went on. "A little while ago every 
 one seemed to believe these men were guilty, 
 and now there 's not a one who does n 't 
 seem to think that Talpers did it.' 
 
 "There's one who doesn't subscribe to 
 the general belief," answered Lowell. 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 Lowell was conscious that she was watch- 
 ing him narrowly. 
 
 "I mean that I don't believe Bill Talpers 
 had anything to do with murdering that man 
 on the Dollar Sign road!" 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 "There's one thing sure in* all cases of 
 crime : If people would only depend more on 
 Nature and less on themselves, they'd get 
 results sooner." 
 
 Lowell and his chief clerk were finishing 
 one of their regular evening discussions of 
 the crime which most people were forgetting, 
 but which still occupied the Indian agent's 
 mind to the complete exclusion of all res- 
 ervation business. 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Rogers, 
 from behind smoke clouds. 
 
 "Just the fact that, if we can only find it, 
 Nature has tagged every crime in a way 
 that makes it possible to get an answer.' 2 
 
 "But there are lots of crimes in which no 
 manifestation of Nature is possible.' 2 
 
 "Not a one. What are finger-prints but 
 manifestations of Nature? And yet for ages 
 we could n't see the sign that Nature hung 
 out for us. No doubt we're just as obtuse 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 275 
 
 about a lot of things that will be just as 
 simple and just as plain when their meaning 
 is finally driven home." 
 
 "But Nature has n't given a hint about 
 that Dollar Sign road crime. Yet it took 
 place outdoors, right in Nature's haunts." 
 
 "You simply mean that we have n't been 
 able to comprehend Nature's signals.' 3 
 
 "But you've been over the ground a 
 dozen times, have n't you?" 
 
 "Fifty times — but all that merely proves 
 what I contend. If I go over that ground 
 one hundred times, and don't find anything, 
 what does it prove? Merely that I am 
 ninety-nine times stupider than I should be. 
 I should get the answer the first time over."^ 
 
 Rogers laughed. 
 
 "I prefer the most comfortable theory. 
 I 've settled down in the popular belief that 
 Bill Talpers did the killing. Think how 
 easy that makes it for me — and the chances 
 are that I'm right at that." 
 
 "You are hopeless, Ed! But remem- 
 ber, if this thing 'goes unsolved it will only 
 be because we have n't progressed beyond 
 
276 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 the first-reader stage in interpreting what 
 Mother Nature has to teach us." 
 
 For several days following the acquittal 
 of Fire Bear and McFann, Lowell had 
 worked almost unceasingly in the hope of 
 getting new evidence in the case which 
 nearly everybody else seemed willing to 
 forget. A similar persistency had marked 
 Lowell's career as a newspaper reporter. He 
 had turned up several sensations when rival 
 newspaper men had abandoned certain cases 
 as hopeless so far as new thrills were con- 
 cerned. 
 
 Lowell had not exaggerated when he told 
 Rogers he had gone over the scene of the 
 murder fifty times. He had not gone into 
 details with his clerk. Rogers would have 
 been surprised to know that his chief had 
 even blocked out the scene of the murder in 
 squares like a checkerboard. Each one of 
 these squares had been examined, slowly 
 and painfully. The net result had been some 
 loose change which undoubtedly had been 
 dropped by Talpers in robbing the murdered 
 man; an eagle feather, probably dropped 
 
MYSTERY RANCH, 277 
 
 from a coup stick which some one of Fire 
 Bear's followers had borrowed from an 
 elder; a flint arrowhead of great antiquity, 
 and a belt buckle and some moccasin beads. 
 
 Far from being discouraged at the unsuc- 
 cessful outcome of his checkerboarding plan, 
 Lowell took his automobile, on the morning 
 following his talk with Rogers, and again 
 visited the scene of the crime. 
 
 For six weeks the hill had been bathed 
 daily in sunshine. The drought, which the 
 Indians had ascribed to evil spirits called 
 down by Fire Bear, had continued unbro- 
 ken. The mud-holes in the road, through 
 which Lowell had plunged to the scene of 
 the murder when he had first heard of the 
 crime, had been churned to dust. Lowell 
 noticed that an old buffalo wallow at the 
 side of the road was still caked in irregular 
 formations which resembled the markings of 
 alligator hide. The first hot winds would 
 cause these cakes of mud to disintegrate, 
 but the weather had been calm, and^they 
 had remained just as they had dried. 
 
 As he glanced about him at the peaceful 
 
278 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 panorama, it occurred to the agent that per- 
 haps too much attention had been centered 
 upon the exact spot of the murder. Yet, it 
 seemed reasonable enough to suppose, no 
 murderer would possibly lie in wait for a 
 victim in such an open spot. If the murder 
 had been deliberately planned, as Lowell 
 believed, and if the victim's approach were 
 known, there could have been no waiting 
 here on the part of the murderer. 
 
 Getting into his automobile, Lowell drove 
 carefully up the hill, studying both sides 
 of the road as he went. Several hundred 
 yards from the scene of the murder, he found 
 a clump of giant sagebrush and grease wood, 
 close to the road. Lowell entered the clump 
 and found that from its eastern side he 
 could command a good view of the Dollar 
 Sign road for miles. Here a man and horse 
 might remain hidden until a traveler, com- 
 ing up the hill, was almost within hailing 
 distance. The brush had grown in a circle, 
 leaving a considerable hollow which was 
 devoid of vegetation. Examining this hol- 
 low closely, Lowell paused suddenly and ut- 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 279 
 
 tered a low ejaculation. Then he walked 
 slowly to his automobile and drove in the 
 direction of the Greek Letter Ranch. 
 
 When he arrived at the ranch house Low- 
 ell was relieved to find that Helen was not at 
 home. Wong, who opened the door a scant 
 six inches, told him she had taken the white 
 horse and gone for a ride. 
 ! "Well, tell Mister Willis Morgan I want 
 to see him," said Lowell. 
 
 Wong was much alarmed. Mister Mor- 
 gan could not be seen. The Chinese com- 
 bination of words for "impossible" was 
 marshaled in behalf of Wong 's employer. 
 
 Lowell, putting his shoulder against the 
 Greek letter brand which was burnt in the 
 panel, pushed the door open and stepped 
 into the room which served as a library. 
 
 "Now tell Mister Morgan I wish to see 
 him, Wong," said the agent firmly. 
 
 The door to the adjoining room opened, 
 and Lowell faced the questioning gaze of a 
 gray-haired man who might have been any- 
 where from forty-five to sixty. One hand 
 was in the pocket of a velvet smoking- 
 
280 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 jacket, and the other held a pipe. The man's 
 eyes were dark and deeply set. They did 
 not seem to Lowell to be the contemplative 
 eyes of the scholar, but rather to belong to 
 a man of decisive action — one whose in- 
 terests might be in building bridges or tun- 
 nels, but whose activities were always con- 
 cerned with material things. His face was 
 lean and bronzed — the face of a man who 
 lived much in the outdoors. His nose was 
 aquiline, and his lips, though thin and firm, 
 were not unkindly. In fact, here was a man 
 who, in the class-room, might be given to 
 quips with his students, rather than to 
 sternness. Yet this was the man of whom 
 it was said . . . Lowell's face grew stern as 
 the long list of indictments against Willis 
 Morgan, recluse and "squaw professor,' 5 
 came to his mind. 
 
 The gray-haired man sat down at the 
 table, and Lowell, in response to a wave of 
 the hand that held the pipe, drew up op- 
 posite. 
 
 "You and I have been living pretty close 
 together a long time," said Lowell bluntly, 
 
MYSTERY RANCH a8i 
 
 "and if we'd been a little more neighborly, this 
 call might not be so difficult in some ways." 
 
 "My fault entirely." Again the hand 
 waved — this time toward the ceiling-high 
 shelves of books. "Library slavery makes a 
 man selfish, I'll admit." 
 
 The voice was cold and hard. It was such 
 a voice that had extended a mocking wel- 
 come to Helen Ervin when she had stood 
 hesitatingly on the; threshold of the Greek 
 Letter Ranch-house. Lowell sneered openly. 
 
 "You have n't always been so tied up to 
 your books that you could n't get out," he 
 said. "I want to take you back to a little 
 horseback ride which you took just six weeks 
 ago." 
 
 "I don't remember such a trip." 
 
 "You will remember it, as I particularize." 
 
 " Very well. You are beginning to interest 
 me." 
 
 "You rode from here to the top of the 
 hill on the Dollar Sign road. Do you re- 
 member?" 
 
 " What odds if I say yes or no? Go on. I 
 want to hear the rest of this story." 
 
282 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "When you reached a clump of tall sage 
 and grease wood, not far below the crest of 
 the hill, you entered it and remained hidden. 
 You had a considerable time to wait, but 
 you were patient — very patient. You knew 
 the man you wanted to meet was somewhere 
 on the road — coming toward you. From 
 the clump of bushes you commanded a view 
 of the Dollar Sign road for miles. As I say, 
 it was long and tedious waiting. It had 
 rained in the night. The sun came out, 
 strong and warm, and the atmosphere was 
 moist. Your horse, that old white horse 
 which has been on the ranch so many years, 
 was impatiently fighting flies. Though you 
 are not any kinder to horseflesh than you 
 are to human beings who come within your 
 blighting influence, you took the saddle off 
 the animal. Perhaps the horse had caught 
 his foot in a stirrup as he kicked at a buzz- 
 ing fly." 
 
 The keen, strong features into which 
 Lowell gazed were mask-like in their im- 
 passiveness. 
 
 "Soon you saw something approaching 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 283 
 
 on the road over the prairie," went on the 
 agent. "It must be the automobile driven 
 by the man you had come to meet. You 
 saddled quickly and rode out of the sage- 
 brush. You met the man in the automobile 
 as he was climbing the hill. He stopped 
 and you talked with him. You had violent 
 words, and then you shot him with a sawed- 
 off shotgun which you had carried for that 
 purpose. You killed the man, and then, to 
 throw suspicion on others, conceived the 
 idea of staking him down to the prairie. It 
 would look like an Indian trick. Besides, 
 you knew that there had been some trouble 
 on the reservation with Indians who were 
 dancing and generally inclined to oppose 
 Government regulations. You had found a 
 rope which had been dropped on the road 
 by the half-breed, Jim McFann. You took 
 that rope from your saddle and cut it in 
 four pieces and tied the man's hands and 
 wrists to his own tent-stakes, which you 
 found in his automobile. 
 
 " Your plans worked out well. It was a 
 lonely country and comparatively early in 
 
284 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 the day. There was nobody to disturb you 
 at your work. Apparently you had thought 
 of every detail. You had left a few tracks, 
 and these you obliterated carefully. You 
 knew you would hardly be suspected unless 
 something led the world to your door. You 
 had been a recluse for years, hated by white 
 men and feared by red. Few had seen your 
 face. You could retire to this lonelv ranch 
 and live your customary life, with no fear of 
 suffering for the crime you had committed. 
 To be sure, an Indian or two might be 
 hanged, but a matter like that would rest 
 lightly on your conscience. 
 
 "Apparently your plans were perfect, but 
 you overlooked one small thing. Most 
 clever scoundrels do. You did not think 
 that perhaps Nature might lay a trap to 
 catch you — a trap in the brush where you 
 had been hidden. Your horse rolled in the 
 mud to rid himself of the pest of flies. You 
 were so intent on the approach of your vic- 
 tim that you did not notice the animal. Yet 
 there in the mud, and visible to-day, was 
 made the imprint of your horse's shoulder, 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 285 
 
 bearing the impression of the Greek Letter 
 brand! " 
 
 As Lowell finished, he rose slowly, his 
 hands on the table and his gaze on the un- 
 flinching face in front of him. The gray- 
 haired man rose also. 
 
 "I suppose," he said, in a voice from 
 which all trace of harshness had disappeared, 
 1 'you have come to give me over to the 
 authorities on account of this crime.'' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Very well. I committed the murder, 
 much as you have explained it, but I did 
 not ride the white horse to the hill. Nor am 
 I Willis Morgan. I am Edward Sargent. 
 Morgan was the man whom I killed and 
 staked down on the prairie!" 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Helen Ervin rode past the ranch door 
 just as the gray-haired man made his state- 
 ment to Lowell. 
 
 "You are Edward Sargent, the man who 
 was supposed to have been murdered?" re- 
 peated the Indian agent, in astonishment. 
 
 "Yes; but wait till Miss Ervin comes in. 
 The situation may require a little clearing, 
 and she can help." 
 
 Surprise and anxiety alternated in Helen's 
 face as she looked in through the open door- 
 way and saw the men seated at the table. 
 She paused a moment, silhouetted in the 
 door, the Greek letter on the panel standing 
 out with almost startling distinctness beside 
 her. As she stood poised on the threshold in 
 her riding-suit, the ravages of her previous 
 trip having been repaired, she made Lowell 
 think of a modernized Diana — modernized 
 as to clothes, but carrying, in her straight- 
 limbed grace, all the world-old spell of the 
 outdoors. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 287 
 
 "Our young friend has just learned the 
 truth, my dear," said the gray-haired man. 
 "He knows that I am Sargent, and that 
 j^our stepfather, Willis Morgan, is dead." 
 
 Helen stepped quickly to Sargent's side. 
 There was something suggesting filial pro- 
 tection in her attitude. Sargent smiled up 
 at her, reassuringly. 
 
 "Probably it is better," he said, "that 
 the whole thing should be known. ' : 
 
 'But in a few days we should have been 
 gone," said Helen. "Why have all our 
 hopes been destroyed in this way at the last 
 moment? Is this some of your work,' 5 she 
 added bitterly, addressing Lowell — "some 
 of your work as a spy?" 
 
 Sargent spoke up quickly. 
 
 "It was fate," he said. "I have felt from 
 the first that I should not have attempted 
 to escape punishment for my deed. The 
 young man has simply done his duty. He 
 worked with the sole idea of getting at 
 the truth — and it is always the truth that 
 matters most. What difference can it make 
 who is hurt, so long as the truth is known?' 
 
a88 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 "But how did it become known/ 3 asked 
 Helen, "when everything seemed to be so 
 thoroughly in our favor? The innocent men 
 who were suspected had been released. The 
 public was content to let the crime rest at 
 the door of Talpers — a man capable of any 
 evil deed. What has happened to change 
 matters so suddenly?" 
 
 "It was the old white horse that betrayed 
 us," said Sargent, with a grim smile. "It 
 shows on what small threads our fates 
 hang balanced. The Greek letter brand still 
 shows in the mud where the horse rolled on 
 the day of the murder on the Dollar Sign 
 hill. When our young friend here saw that 
 bit of evidence, he came directly to the 
 ranch and accused me of knowledge of the 
 crime, all the time thinking I was Willis 
 Morgan." 
 
 "Let me continue my work as a spy,' 5 
 broke in Lowell bitterly, "and ask for a 
 complete statement." 
 
 "Willis Morgan was my twin brother,' 5 
 said Sargent. "As Willard Sargent he had 
 made a distinguished name for himself 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 289 
 
 among the teachers of Greek in this country. 
 He was a professor at an 'early age, his bent 
 toward scholarship being opposite to mine, 
 which was along the lines of invention. My 
 brother was a hard, cruel man, beneath a 
 polished exterior. Cynicism was as natural 
 to him as breathing. He married a young 
 and beautiful woman, who had been married 
 before, and who had a little daughter — 
 a mere baby, Willard's wife soon died, a 
 victim of his cynicism and studied cruelty. 
 The future of this helpless stepdaughter of 
 my brother's became a matter of the most 
 intimate concern to me. My brother was 
 mercenary to a marked degree. I had be- 
 come successful in my inventions of mining 
 machinery. I was fast making a fortune. 
 Willard called upon me frequently for loans, 
 which I never refused. In fact, I had volun- 
 tarily advanced him thousands of dollars, 
 from which I expected no return. A mere 
 brotherly feeling of gratitude would have 
 been sufficient repayment for me. But such 
 a feeling my brother never had. His only 
 object was to get as much out of me as he 
 
2 9 o MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 could, and to sneer at me, in his high-bred 
 way, while making a victim of me. 
 
 "His success in getting money from me 
 led him into deep waters. He victimized 
 others, who threatened prosecution. Real- 
 izing that matters could not go on as they 
 were going, I told my brother that I would 
 take up the claims against him and give him 
 one hundred thousand dollars, on certain 
 conditions. Those conditions were that he 
 was to renounce all claim to his little step- 
 daughter, and that I was to have sole care 
 of her. He was to go to some distant part 
 of the country and change his name and 
 let the world forget that such a creature as 
 Willard Sargent ever existed. 
 
 "My brother was forced to agree to the 
 terms laid down. The university trustees 
 were threatening him with expulsion. He 
 resigned and came out here. He married 
 an Indian woman, and, as I understand it, 
 killed her by the same cold-hearted, de- 
 liberately cruel treatment that had brought 
 about the death of his first wife. 
 
 'Meantime Willard's stepdaughter, who 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 291 
 
 was none other than Helen, was brought up 
 by a lifelong friend of mine, Miss Scovill, 
 at her school for girls in California. The 
 loving care that she was given can best be 
 told by Helen. I did not wish the girl to 
 know that she was dependent upon her 
 uncle for support. In fact, I did not want 
 her to learn anything which might lead to 
 inquiries into her babyhood, and which 
 would only bring her sorrow when she 
 learned of her mother's fate. My brother, 
 always clever in his rascalities, learned that 
 Helen knew nothing of my existence. He 
 sent her a letter, when Miss Scovill was 
 away, telling Helen that he had been crip- 
 pling himself financially to keep her in 
 school, and now he needed her at this ranch. 
 Before Miss Scovill had returned, Helen, 
 acting on the impulse of the moment, had 
 departed for my brother's place. Miss 
 Scovill was greatly alarmed, and sent me 
 a telegram. As soon as I received word, I 
 started for my brother's ranch. I happened 
 to have started on an automobile tour at the 
 time, and figured that I could reach here as 
 
292 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 quickly by machine as by making frequent 
 changes from rail to stage. 
 
 "When Helen arrived at the ranch, it can 
 be imagined how the success of his scheme 
 delighted Willis Morgan, as my brother was 
 known here. He threatened her with the 
 direst of evils, and declared he would drag 
 her beneath the level of the poorest squaw 
 on the Indian reservation. Fortunately she 
 is a girl of spirit and determination. The 
 Chinese servant was willing to help her to 
 escape. She would have fled at the first op- 
 portunity, in spite of my brother's declara- 
 tion that escape would be impossible, but 
 it happened that, during the course of his 
 boasting, her captor overstepped himself. 
 He told her of my existence, and that I had 
 really been the one who had kept her in 
 school. He had managed to keep a thorough 
 system of espionage in effect, so far as Miss 
 Scovill and myself were concerned. He had 
 known when she left San Francisco, and he 
 also knew that I was coming, by automobile, 
 to take Helen from the ranch. He laughed 
 as he told her of my coming. All the ferocity 
 

 / 
 
 MYSTERY RANCH 293 
 
 of his nature blazed forth, and he told Helen 
 that he intended to kill me at sight, and 
 would also kill her. 
 
 "Desirous of warning me, even at risk of 
 her own life, Helen mailed a letter to me at 
 Quaking-Asp Grove, hoping to catch me be- 
 fore I reached that place. In this letter she 
 warned me not to come to the ranch, as she 
 felt that tragedy impended. Talpers held up 
 the letter and read it, and thought to hold it 
 as a club over Helen's head, showing that 
 she knew something of the murder. 
 
 "I rode through Quaking- Asp Grove and 
 White Lodge and the Indian agency at 
 night. I had a breakdown after going past 
 Talpers 's store — a tire to replace. By the 
 time I climbed the hill on the Dollar Sign 
 road it was well along in the morning. I saw 
 a man coming toward me on a white horse. 
 It was my brother, Willard Sargent, or Wil- 
 lis Morgan. He looked much like me. The 
 years seemed to have dealt with us about 
 alike. I knew, as soon as I saw him, that 
 he had come out to kill me. We talked a 
 few minutes. I had stopped the car at his 
 
294 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 demand, and he sat in the saddle, close be- 
 side me. There is no need of going into the 
 details of our conversation. He was full of 
 reproaches. His later life had been more of 
 a punishment for him than I had suspected. 
 His voice was full of venom as he threatened 
 me. He told me that Helen was at the 
 ranch, but I would never see her. He had a 
 sawed-off shotgun in his hand. I had no 
 weapon. I made a quick leap at him and 
 threw him from his horse. The shotgun 
 fell in the road. I jumped for it just as he 
 scrambled after it. I wrested the weapon 
 from him. He tried to draw a revolver that 
 swung in a holster at his hip. There was no 
 Ghance for me to take that from him. It was 
 a case of his life or mine. I fired the shot- 
 gun, and the charge tore away the lower part 
 of his face. 
 
 "Strangely enough, I had no regret at 
 what I had done. It was not that I had 
 saved my own life — I had managed to 
 intervene between Helen and a fate worse 
 than death. I weighed matters and acted 
 with a coolness that surprised me, even 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 295 
 
 while I was carrying out the details that 
 followed. It occurred to me that, because 
 of our close resemblance to each other, it 
 might be possible for me to pass myself off 
 as my brother. I knew that he had lived 
 the life of a recluse here, and that few people 
 knew him by sight. We were dressed much 
 alike, as I was traveling in khaki, and he 
 wore clothes of that material. I removed 
 everything from his pockets, and then I put 
 my watch and check-book and other papers 
 in his pockets. I even went so far as to put 
 my wallet in his inner pocket, containing 
 bills of large denomination. 
 
 "I had heard that there was some dis- 
 satisfaction among certain young Indians 
 on the reservation — that those Indians 
 were dancing and making trouble in general. 
 It seemed to me that such a situation might 
 be made use of in some way. Why not drag 
 my brother's body out on the prairie at the 
 side of the road and stake it down? Sus- 
 picion might be thrown on the Indians. I 
 had no sooner thought of the plan than I 
 proceeded to carry it out. I worked calmly 
 
296 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 and quickly. There was no living thing in 
 sight to cause alarm. I took a rawhide 
 lariat, which I found attached to the sad- 
 dle on the old white horse, and used it to 
 tie my brother's ankles and wrists to tent- 
 stakes which I took from my automobile. 
 
 "After my work was done, I looked it over 
 carefully, to see that I had left nothing un- 
 done and had made no blunder in what I 
 had accomplished. I obliterated all tracks, 
 as far as possible. Although it had rained 
 the night before, and there was mud in the 
 old buffalo wallows and in the depressions 
 in the road, the prairie where I had staked 
 the body was dry and dusty. 
 
 "After I had arranged everything to my 
 satisfaction, I mounted the old white horse 
 and rode to the ranch, merely following the 
 trail the horse had made coming out. When 
 I arrived here and made myself known to 
 Helen, you can imagine her joy, which soon 
 was changed to consternation when she 
 found what had been done. But my plan of 
 living here and letting the world suppose 
 that I was Willard Sargent, or Willis Mor- 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 297 
 
 gan, seemed feasible. Wong] was our friend 
 from the first. We knew we could depend 
 on his Oriental discretion. But we were not 
 to escape lightly. Talpers's attitude was a 
 menace until, through a fortunate set of 
 circumstances, we managed to secure a com- 
 pensating hold over him. Undoubtedly Tal- 
 pers had been first on the scene after the 
 murder. He had robbed my brother's body, 
 and was caught in his ghoul-like act by his 
 partner, Jim McFann. The half-breed be- 
 lieved Talpers when the trader told him that 
 a watch was all he had found on the dead 
 man. The later discovery that Talpers had 
 deceived him, and had really taken a large 
 sum of money from the body, led the half- 
 breed to kill the trader. 
 
 "I decided to await the outcome of the 
 trial. It would have been impossible for me 
 to let Fire Bear or McFann go to prison, 
 or perhaps to the gallows, for my deed. If 
 either one, or both, had been convicted, I 
 intended to make a confession. But matters 
 seemed to work out well for us. The accused 
 men were freed, and it seemed to be the 
 
298 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 general opinion that Talpers had committed 
 the crime. Talpers was dead. There was 
 no occasion for me to confess. I had 
 thoughts of going away, quietly, to some 
 place where I could begin life over again. 
 Miss Scovill is in possession of a will making 
 Helen my heir. This will could have been 
 produced, and thus Helen would have been 
 well provided for, I had kept in seclusion 
 here, and had even feigned illness, in order 
 that none might suspect me of being other 
 than Willis Morgan. But if any one had 
 seen me I do not believe the deception would 
 have been discovered, so close is my re- 
 semblance to my brother. Always having 
 been a passable mimic, I imitated my 
 brother's voice. It was a voice that had 
 often stirred me to wrath, because of its 
 cold, cutting qualities. The first time I 
 imitated my brother's voice, Wong came in 
 from the kitchen looking frightened beyond 
 measure. He thought the ghost of his old 
 employer had returned to the ranch. 
 
 "But of what use is all such planning 
 when destiny wills otherwise? A trifling in- 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 299 
 
 cident — the rolling of a horse in the mud — 
 brought everything about my ears. Yet I 
 believe it is for the best. Nor do I believe 
 your discovery to have been a mere matter 
 of chance. Probably you were led by a 
 higher force than mere devotion to duty. 
 Truth must have loyal servitors such as you 
 if justice is to survive in this world. I am 
 heartily glad that you persisted in your 
 search. I feel more at ease in mind and 
 body to-night than I have felt since the day 
 of the tragedy. Now if you will excuse me 
 a moment, I will make preparations for 
 giving myself up to the authorities — per- 
 haps to higher authorities than those at 
 White Lodge." 
 
 Sargent stepped into the adjoining room 
 as he finished talking. Helen did not raise 
 her head from the table. Something in Sar- 
 gent's final words roused Lowell's suspicion. 
 He walked quickly into the room and found 
 Sargent taking a revolver from the drawer 
 of a desk. Lowell wrested the weapon from 
 his grasp. 
 
 "That's the last thing in the world you 
 
3 oo MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 • 
 
 should do," said the Indian agent, in a low 
 voice. "There is n't a jury that will convict 
 you. If it 's expiation you seek, do you think 
 that cowardly sort of expiation is going to 
 bring anything but new unhappiness to Iter 
 out there?" 
 
 "No," said Sargent. "I give you my 
 word this will not be attempted again." 
 
 Space meeting space — plains and sky 
 welded into harmonies of blue and gray. 
 Cloud shadows racing across billowy up- 
 lands, and sagebrush nodding in a breeze 
 crisp and electric as only a breeze from our 
 upper Western plateau can be. Distant 
 mountains, with their allurements enhanced 
 by the filmiest of purple veils. Bird song 
 and the chattering of prairie dogs from the 
 foreground merely intensifying the great, 
 echoless silence of the plains. 
 
 Lowell and Helen from a ridge — their 
 ridge it was now ! — watched the changes of 
 the panorama. They had dismounted, and 
 their horses were standing near at hand, 
 reins trailing, and manes rising and falling 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 301 
 
 with the undulations of the breeze. It was 
 a month after Sargent's confession and his 
 surrender as the slayer of the recluse of 
 the Greek Letter Ranch. As Lowell had 
 prophesied, Sargent's acquittal had been 
 prompt. His story was corroborated by 
 brief testimony from Lowell and Helen. 
 Citizens crowded about him, after the jury 
 had brought in its verdict of "Not guilty," 
 and one of the first to congratulate him was 
 Jim McFann, who had been acquitted when 
 he came up for trial for slaying Talpers. 
 The half-breed told Sargent of Talpers's 
 plan to kill Helen. 
 
 "I'm just telling you,' 3 said the half- 
 breed, "to ease your mind in case you're 
 feeling any responsibility for Talpers's 
 death." 
 
 Soon after his acquittal Sargent departed 
 for California, where he married Miss Sco- 
 vill — the outcome of an early romance. 
 Helen was soon to leave to join her foster 
 parents, and she and Lowell had come for a 
 last ride. 
 
 "I cannot realize the glorious truth of it 
 
3 o2 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 all — that I am. to come soon and claim you 
 and bring you back here as my wife/" said 
 Lowell. "Say it all over again for me." 
 
 He was standing with both arms about 
 her and with her face uptilted to his. No 
 doubt other men and women had stood thus 
 on this glacier-wrought promontory — lov- 
 ers from cave and tepee. 
 
 "It is all true/' Helen answered, "but I 
 must admit that the responsibilities of being 
 an Indian agent's wife seem alarming. The 
 thought of there being so much to do among 
 these people makes me afraid that I shall 
 not be able to meet the responsibilities.'' 
 
 "You'll be bothered every day with In- 
 dians — men, women, and babies. You '11 
 hear the thumping of their moccasined feet 
 every hour of the day. They'll overrun 
 your front porch and seek you out in the 
 sacred precincts of your kitchen, mostly 
 about things that are totally inconse- 
 quential." 
 
 "But think of the work in its larger 
 aspects — the good that there is to be done.' 2 
 
 Lowell smiled at her approvingly. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 303 
 
 "That's the way you have to keep think- 
 ing all the time. You have to look beyond 
 the mass of detail in the foreground — past 
 all the minor annoyances and the red tape 
 and the seeming ingratitude. You've got to 
 figure that you 're there to supply the needed 
 human note — ■ to let these people under- 
 stand that this Government of ours is not 
 a mere machine with the motive power at 
 Washington. You 've got to feel that you've 
 been sent here to make up for the indiffer- 
 ence of the outside world — that the kiddies 
 out in those ramshackle cabins and cold te- 
 pees are not going to be lonely, and suffer 
 and die, if you can help it. You've got to 
 feel that it's your help that's going to save 
 the feeble and sick — sometimes from their 
 own superstitions. There's no reason why 
 we can't in time get a hospital here for 
 Indians, like Fire Bear, who have tubercu- 
 losis. We're going to save Fire Bear, and 
 we can save others. And then there are the 
 school-children, with lonely hours that can 
 be lightened, and with work to be found 
 for them in the big world after they have 
 
304 MYSTERY RANCH 
 
 learned the white man's tasks. But there 
 are going to be heartaches and disillusion- 
 ments for a woman. A man can grit his 
 teeth and smash through some way, unless 
 he sinks back into absolute indifference 
 as a good many Indian agents do. But a 
 woman — well, dear, I dread to think of 
 your embarking on a task which is at once 
 so alluring and so endless and thankless." 
 
 Helen put her hand on his lips. 
 
 "With you helping me, no task can seem 
 thankless." 
 
 "Well, then, this is our kingdom of work," 
 said Lowell, with a sweep of his sombrero 
 which included the vast reservation which 
 smiled so inscrutably at them. "There's 
 every human need to be met out there in 
 all that bigness. We'll face it together — 
 and we'll win!" 
 
 They rode back leisurely along the ridge 
 and took the trail that led to the ranch. The 
 house was closed, as Wong was at the agency, 
 ready to leave for the Sargents' place in 
 California. The old white horse, which Helen 
 rode, tried to turn in at the ranch gate. 
 
MYSTERY RANCH 305 
 
 "The poor old fellow does n't understand 
 that his new home is at the agency," said 
 Helen. "He is the only one that wants to 
 return to this place of horrors." 
 
 "The leasers will be here soon," replied 
 Lowell. "They are going to put up build- 
 ings and make a new place all told. The 
 Greek letter on the door will be gone, but, 
 no matter what changes are made, I have 
 no doubt that people will continue to know 
 it as Mystery Ranch." 
 
 THE END 
 
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