Bob Hampton of Placer

The soldier's hat still rested on the grass where it had fallen, its

military insignia hidden.

"I guess--I know--what I--know," the fellow muttered. "What

's--your--regiment?"

"Seventh Cavalry."

The man stiffened up as if an electric shock had swept through his limp

frame. "The hell!--and--did--she--call you--Brant?"

The young officer's face exhibited his disgust. Beyond doubt that

sequestered nook was a favorite lounging spot for the girl, and this

disreputable creature had been watching her for some sinister purpose.

"So you have been eavesdropping, have you?" said Brant, gravely. "And

now you want to try a turn at defaming a woman? Well, you have come to

a poor market for the sale of such goods. I am half inclined to throw

you bodily into the creek. I believe you are nothing but a common

liar, but I 'll give you one chance--you say you know her real name.

What is it?"

The eyes of the mummy had become spiteful.

"It's--none of--your damn--business. I'm--not under--your orders."

"Under my orders! Of course not; but what do you mean by that? Who

and what are you?"

The fellow stood up, slightly hump-backed but broad of shoulder, his

arms long, his legs short and somewhat bowed, his chin protruding

impudently, and Brant noticed an oddly shaped black scar, as if burned

there by powder, on the back of his right hand.

"Who--am I?" he said, angrily. "I'm--Silent--Murphy."

An expression of bewilderment swept across the lieutenant's face.

"Silent Murphy! Do you claim to be Custer's scout?"

The fellow nodded. "Heard--of me--maybe?"

Brant stood staring at him, his mind occupied with vague garrison

rumors connected with this odd personality. The name had long been a

familiar one, and he had often had the man pictured out before him,

just such a wizened face and hunched-up figure, half crazed, at times

malicious, yet keen and absolutely devoid of fear; acknowledged as the

best scout in all the Indian country, a daring rider, an incomparable

trailer, tireless, patient, and as tricky and treacherous as the wily

savages he was employed to spy upon. There could remain no reasonable

doubt of his identity, but what was he doing there? What purpose

underlay his insinuations against that young girl? If this was indeed

Silent Murphy, he assuredly had some object in being there, and however

hastily he may have spoken, it was not altogether probable that he

deliberately lied. All this flashed across his mind in that single

instant of hesitation.

"Yes, I've heard of you,"--and his crisp tone instinctively became that

of terse military command,--"although we have never met, for I have

been upon detached service ever since my assignment to the regiment. I

have a troop in camp below," he pointed down the stream, "and am in

command here."