"Your plans worked out well. It was a lonely country and comparatively
early in 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 lonely 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 victim 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, _bearing the impression of the Greek
Letter brand_!"

As Lowell finished, he rose slowly, his hands on the table and his gaze
on the unflinching 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, "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 statement to Lowell.

"You are Edward Sargent, the man who was supposed to have been
murdered?" repeated 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 doorway 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 thi