“Not a word.”

Brant drew a long, deep breath.  He had supposed she knew this.  At last he said gravely: 

“Naida, the truth will prove the kindest message, I think.  He died in that unbroken ring of defenders clustered about General Custer on the bluffs of the Little Big Horn.”

Her slight figure trembled so violently that he held her close within his arms.

“There was a smile upon his face when we found him.  He performed his full duty, Naida, and died as became a soldier and a gentleman.”

“But—­but, this cannot be!  I saw the published list; his name was not among them.”

“The man who fell was Robert Nolan.”

Gently he drew her down to a seat upon the soft turf of the bank.  She looked up at him helplessly, her mind seemingly dazed, her eyes yet filled with doubt.

“Robert Nolan?  My father?”

He bent over toward her, pressing his lips to her hair and stroking it tenderly with his hand.

“Yes, Naida, darling; it was truly Robert Hampton Nolan who died in battle, in the ranks of his old regiment,—­died as he would have chosen to die, and died, thank God! completely cleared of every stain upon his honor.  Sit up, little girl, and listen while I tell you.  There is in the story no word which does not reflect nobility upon the soldier’s daughter.”

She uplifted her white face.  “Tell me,” she said, simply, “all you know.”

He recounted to her slowly, carefully, the details of that desperate journey northward, of their providential meeting on the Little Big Horn, of the papers left in his charge, of Hampton’s riding forward with despatches, and of his death at Custer’s side.  While he spoke, the girl scarcely moved; her breath came in sobs and her hands clasped his.

“These are the papers, Naida.  I opened the envelope as directed, and found deeds to certain properties, including the mine in the Black Range; a will, duly signed and attested, naming you as his sole heir, together with a carefully prepared letter, addressed to you, giving a full account of the crime of which he was convicted, as well as some other matters of a personal nature.  That letter you must read alone as his last message, but the truth of all he says has since been proved.”

She glanced up at him quickly.  “By Murphy?”

“Yes, by Murphy, who is now lying in the hospital at Bethune, slowly recovering.  His sworn deposition has been forwarded to the Department at Washington, and will undoubtedly result in the honorable replacing of your father’s name on the Army List.  I will tell you briefly the man’s confession, together with the few additional facts necessary to make it clear.