“Certainly, Hampton,” he said.  “Is that all?”

“All except what I am going to tell you now regarding Murphy.  There is no use my attempting to explain exactly how I chanced to find out all these things, for they came to me little by little during several years.  I knew Nolan, and I knew your father, and I had reason to doubt the guilt of the Captain, in spite of the verdict of the jury that condemned him.  In fact, I knew at the time, although it was not in my power to prove it, that the two principal witnesses against Nolan lied.  I thought I could guess why, but we drifted apart, and finally I lost all track of every one connected with the affair.  Then I happened to pick up that girl down in the canyon beyond the Bear Water, and pulled her out alive just because she chanced to be of that sex, and I could n’t stand to see her fall into Indian clutches.  I did n’t feel any special interest in her at the time, supposing she belonged to Old Gillis, but she somehow grew on me—­she’s that kind, you know; and when I discovered, purely by accident, that she was Captain Nolan’s girl, but that it all had been kept from her, I just naturally made up my mind I ’d dig out the truth if I possibly could, for her sake.  The fact is, I began to think a lot about her—­not the way you do, you understand; I’m getting too old for that, and have known too much about women,—­but maybe somewhat as a father might feel.  Anyhow, I wanted to give her a chance, a square deal, so that she would n’t be ashamed of her own name if ever she found out what it was.”

He paused, his eyes filled with memories, and passed his hand through his uncovered hair.

“About that time I fell foul of Murphy and Slavin there in Glencaid,” he went on quickly, as if anxious to conclude.  “I never got my eyes on Murphy, you know, and Slavin was so changed by that big red beard that I failed to recognize him.  But their actions aroused my suspicions, and I went after them good and hard.  I wanted to find out what they knew, and why those lies were told on Nolan at the trial.  I had an idea they could tell me.  So, for a starter, I tackled Slavin, supposing we were alone, and I was pumping the facts out of him successfully by holding a gun under his nose, and occasionally jogging his memory, when this fellow Murphy got excited, and chasseed into the game, but happened to nip his partner instead of me.  In the course of our little scuffle I chanced to catch a glimpse of the fellow’s right hand, and it had a scar on the back of it that looked mighty familiar.  I had seen it before, and I wanted to see it again.  So, when I got out of that scrape, and the doctor had dug a stray bullet out of my anatomy, there did n’t seem to be any one left for me to chase excepting Murphy, for Slavin was dead.  I was n’t exactly sure he was the owner of that scar, but I had my suspicions and wanted to verify them.  Having struck his trail, I reached Cheyenne just about