There was no question of it. The man who had bribed Wild Horse to attempt Hector's murder was Welland.
"Why, it's impossible!" Inspector Denton declared, when Hector explained. "Welland? He's one of the—ah—wealthiest, most influential, most respected men in the country. He would have no object——"
Hector shook his head. The time had come for him to unmask the man he had long suspected but against whom he had hitherto been unable to amass enough evidence. Wild Horse had pieced the puzzle together for him.
"I'll tell you what I think of Joe Welland, sir!" he said tersely. "He's the biggest horse-thief, cattle-rustler and whiskey-smuggler this side the boundary. Yes, sir," as the Inspector voiced a mild protest, "that's so. Oh, I've suspected him for a long, long time. We've tried to clear the district of those crimes, sir, and made some progress, too; and yet can't completely stop it. Well, sir, some time ago it struck me that the reason why we weren't able to stamp out the business was that it was being run from a central headquarters. This headquarters kept itself well informed of our movements, so that it could direct operations with the best chances of success. It kept itself well informed, with the result that, capture as many of its tools as we please, we could never nab the men on top. This pointed to careful organization, employing men over whom it had a definite hold only and letting those men into no matter that did not directly concern them. The small men had no idea of the scope of the gang employing them, nor, in fact, any knowledge of the chief men, to say nothing of their own comrades. Each was just a cog in the machine, doing the little job assigned them. When arrested, they gave no evidence of value because they hadn't any. So we just jailed them as men convicted of a small share in the big game and went on working in the dark as before."
"That sounds plausible," the Inspector asserted, a little doubtfully. "But—er—what about Welland?"
"Why, sir,"—Hector was aflame now with the conviction that they were on the verge of a big thing—"we know how easily Welland became wealthy, apparently without effort. All sorts of evidence, too small to arrest him on but still damning, gradually brought me to suspect him. His herds of horses—new buildings—lands—where did they come from? The horses and cattle were stolen by gangs of Indians and whites, who did not know they were working under that man but simply delivered them to men who in turn handed them over to him—men in his power. Selling these herds, he made money. But the greater amount by far was made from the sale of robes, horses and cattle received in exchange for whiskey run into the country by his organization. That's how he got wealthy, I'm certain of it now. I could tell you a thousand little things that show why I suspect him, sir, but it would take a long time. Meanwhile——"
"Well, meanwhile—what?"
"We have evidence enough from this Indian, sir. Welland bribed him to shoot me. Why? Because I've been too hot on the trail of his whiskey-runners for the past few years! He was afraid I might get too near soon, so he thought he'd better put me out of the way first. What more easy than to have this done by an Indian in his power—an Indian who wouldn't dare to give him away if caught? That's why he picked Wild Horse. If Wild Horse hadn't made a mistake, I'd be dead now—and my suspicions with me! Look at the evidence we've against him, from Wild Horse alone, sir!"
The Inspector pondered.
"Er—about this idea that he was out to finish you, Adair. And—ah—about this organization of which he's the—ah—chief. Can you give me an example of the sort of thing that made you suspicious?"