nd 'Wild Bill' isn't
going back on that kind of a pal, is he? I tell you we've got to fight
this affair alone, and on the quiet. Maybe the fellow don't know much
yet, but he's sure on the trail, or else he wouldn't have been in here
talking to Willoughby. We've got to get him, Scott, somehow. Lord, man,
there's a clean million dollars waiting for us in this deal, and I'm
ready to fight for it. But I'm damned sleepy, and I'm going to bed. You
locate Keith to-morrow, and then, when you're sober, we'll figure out
how we can get to him best; I've got to set Christie right. Good-night,
Bill."

He went out into the hall and down the creaking stairs, the man he
wanted so badly listening to his descending footsteps, half tempted to
follow. Scott did not move, perhaps had already fallen drunkenly asleep
on his chair, and finally Keith crossed his own room, and lay down. The
din outside continued unabated, but the man's intense weariness overcame
it all, and he fell asleep, his last conscious thought a memory of Hope.

Chapter XX. Hope Goes to Sheridan

The discovery of the locket which had fallen from about Keith's neck
made it impossible for Hope to remain quietly for very long in the hotel
at Fort Larned. The more carefully she thought over the story of
that murder at the Cimmaron Crossing, and Keith's tale of how he had
discovered and buried the mutilated bodies, the more assured she became
that that was where this locket came from, and that the slain freighter
must have been her own father. She never once questioned the truth of
Keith's report; there was that about the man which would not permit of
her doubting him. He had simply failed to mention what he removed from
the bodies, supposing this would be of no special interest.

Mrs. Murphy, hoping thus to quiet the apprehensions of her charge,
set herself diligently at work to discover the facts. As her house was
filled with transients, including occasional visitors from Carson City,
and was also lounging headquarters for many of the officers from the
near-by fort, she experienced no difficulty in picking up all the
floating rumors. Out of these, with Irish shrewdness, she soon managed
to patch together a consistent fabric of fact.

"Shure, honey, it's not so bad the way they tell it now," she explained,
consolingly. "Nobody belaves now it was yer father that got kilt. It was
two fellers what stole his outfit, clothes an' all, an' was drivin' off
wid 'em inter