The mocking grin expanded; into the husky voice crept a snarl of

defiance, for now Murphy's courage had come back--he was fronting flesh

and blood. "Oh, stop preachin'--an' shoot--an' be damned ter ye!"

"You do me a grave injustice, Murphy. In the first place, I do not

possess the nature of an Indian, and am not out for revenge. Your

slashing at me down in Glencaid has n't left so much as a sting behind.

It's completely blotted out, forgotten. I haven't the slightest desire

to kill you, man; but I do want to clear my name of the stain of that

crime. I want you to tell the whole truth about that night's work at

Bethune; and when you have done so, you can go. I 'll never lay a

finger on you; you can go where you please."

"Bah!--ye ain't got no proof--agin me--'sides, the case is closed--it

can't be opened agin--by law."

"You devil! I 'd be perfectly justified in killing you," exclaimed

Hampton, savagely.

Murphy stared at him stupidly, the cunning of incipient insanity in his

eyes. "En' whar--do ye expect--me ter say--all this, pervidin', of

course--I wus fule 'nough--ter do it?"

"Up yonder before Custer and the officers of the Seventh, when we get

in."

"They'd nab me--likely."

"Now, see here, you say it is impossible for them to touch you, because

the case is closed legally. Now, you do not care very much for the

opinion of others, while from every other standpoint you feel perfectly

safe. But I 've had to suffer for your crime, Murphy, suffer for

fifteen years, ten of them behind stone walls; and there are others who

have suffered with me. It has cost me love, home, all that a man holds

dear. I 've borne this punishment for you, paid the penalty of your

act to the full satisfaction of the law. The very least you can do in

ordinary decency is to speak the truth now. It will not hurt you, but

it will lift me out of hell."

Murphy's eyes were cunning, treacherously shifting under the thatch of

his heavy brows; he was like an old rat seeking for any hole of refuge.

"Well--maybe I might. Anyhow, I'll go on--with ye. Kin I sit up? I

'm dog tired--lyin' yere."

"Unbuckle your belt, and throw that over first."

"I'm damned--if I will. Not--in no Injun--country."

"I know it's tough," retorted Hampton, with exasperating coolness, his

revolver's muzzle held steady; "but, just the same, it's got to be

done. I know you far too well to take chances on your gun. So

unlimber."




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