t, but he got away, and
after that he never traveled alone and I didn't get another chance. I
ordered Ezela away, but she said she wouldn't go until she got the
image. Many times I debated the idea of putting her out of the way,
but there was always the knowledge in my mind that she had saved my
life, and I hadn't the heart to do it.

"You know how we lived. My life was constantly in danger, and I became
hardened, suspicious, brutal. You got the whole accumulation. Taggart
and Ezela bribed my men to watch me. I had to discharge them. After
Ezela died I thought Taggart would leave me alone. But he didn't--he
wanted the image. One day he and his boy Neal came over and ambushed
me. They shot me in the shoulder. I was in the house, defending
myself as best I could, when Malcolm Clayton came. By this time Betty
has told you the rest and you know just what you can expect from the
Taggarts.

"That is the whole history of the Toltec idol. I am not proud of my
part in the affair, but Tom Taggart must never have the idol. Remember
that! I don't want him to have it! Neither do I want you to have it,
or the money I leave, unless you can show that you forgive me. As I
have said, I don't take your word for it--you must prove it.

"I know you are coming home, and I wish I could live to see you. But I
know I won't. Don't be too hard on me. Your father,

"JAMES MARSTON."

CHAPTER IX

RESPONSIBILITY

For a long time after he had completed the reading of the letter,
Calumet was silent, staring straight ahead of him. The information
contained in the account of his father's adventures was soothing--the
termagant who had presided over his boyhood destinies had not been his
real mother, and his father had left him a score to settle. He already
hated the Taggarts, not particularly because they were his father's
enemies, but rather because Tom Taggart had been a traitor. He felt a
contempt for him. He himself was mean and vicious--he knew that. But
he had never betrayed a friend. It was better to have no friend than
to have one and betray him. He looked around to see that Betty was
still apparently absorbed in her book.

"Do you know what is in this letter?" he said.

She laid the book in her lap and nodded affirmatively.

"You opened it, I suppose?" he sneered.

"No," she returned, unmoved. "Your father read it to me."

"Kind of him, wasn't it? What do you think of it?"

"What I think isn't i