“Well, to make a short story out of a long one, Sanford and I both loved the same woman, a Creole of New Orleans. She would have married me, but Sanford, curse him! told her I was the son of an Italian brigand, and so won her. In the course of time they had two children, Florence and Silvia. Wayland Sanford went to California during the gold-fever, and I followed, waiting for a chance to take his life. After a time the chance came. Sanford quarreled with a miner, and publicly threatened his life. That night the miner was killed. Of course I did it, but I was detected in the act by one of Sanford’s friends. I threw the man down the shaft, and left him there. Sanford was arrested for the crime, but escaped, and flew, no one knew where. I followed, but failed to find my man.
“I left California. And seeing that money could be made, organized the band I now command, and we have been operating the route ever since.
“Some time after I began, a regiment of troops came into the region, and fearing they were after me, I went, in disguise, to the camp, and sought an interview with the colonel. You can imagine my surprise when I found myself face to face with Wayland Sanford, colonel commanding the regiment!
“He knew me, and fearful that I would blow on him, asked the price of my silence.
“I knew Inez was dead, so I demanded the daughter, Florence, for my wife. He stormed and swore; offered ten thousand dollars, but I laughed at him, and to end the matter, he finally gave in and wrote to his daughter that he had made an engagement for her hand with a particular friend. The girl declined the honor, and answered that she was engaged to an officer in his regiment, one Captain Warren Walraven.
“I told Sanford I could fix him, and so I sat down and wrote a letter, forged the handwriting, from Walraven to Blufe Brandon, chief of the Cheyennes, in which he offered to sell the command into his power. This I dropped where one of Sanford’s scouts found it and gave it to the colonel.
“Walraven was court-martialed and dismissed the service. The next day he, with his nigger servant, Ebony Jim, started for Laramie, where Florence was. I captured him on his way—the nigger escaped—and taking him to Devil’s Tarn, I put him in a canoe and started him adrift over the falls. That ended him.
“Sanford wrote to his daughter, telling her all about Walraven, how he was cashiered and killed by the Indians, but she had suddenly disappeared from the fort, and was seen no more. Her skeleton, however, was found in an old well near the fort, a year or so afterward. About a year after that I entrapped a traveler, who proved to be the very man, Barker, whom I had thrown down the shaft!”
“And you hold him a prisoner yet?” asked Black Bear.
“You bet, though he can’t last a week longer. A few weeks since I heard Sanford was at Omaha, and you know the rest. But here we are at the ranch.”