“Nearly thirty years ago there were two brothers, sons of wealthy parents, living on the Missouri River. One of these brothers, in his eighteenth year, left his home to serve in the army of his country.”
Ricardo started up, staring; then, it seemed, for the first time he recognized in this man one whom he had known before.
As he made this discovery he fell back with a cry of terror, but still continued to stare into the face of the man before him.
“You set out to be an honest soldier, Ricardo, but, dismissed from the service, you leagued with robbers, roaming over the Western and Southwestern plains for years, until at length you became the leader of the Branded Brotherhood. Have I truly told your life, Ricardo?”
“You know all,” sadly replied the chief, “and you are my brother! And I would have killed you. How did you discover me?”
“Through some papers you were foolish enough to leave in the place where I was held a prisoner. Yes, I am your own brother, Ricardo; yet you killed my wife and son, let your fiends hold me a prisoner and carried my daughter away a captive. Now you are a prisoner, and you have received your death wound, yet I am sorry for you, for you are still my brother.”
The scout, pained by this interview, had walked away from the camp fire, and only the groans of the chief broke the silence, but whether Ricardo groaned most from pain of body or mind none knew, for he never spoke again, and with his head supported in the arms of the negro Buttermilk, who had so faithfully followed his master’s evil fortunes, his breath grew shorter and more labored, until, with a curse half uttered upon his lips, Ricardo, the chief of the Branded Brotherhood, was dead.
When the scout left the camp fire he mounted Midnight and rode away across the prairie. Shortly after sunrise he beheld a horseman approaching, and upon a nearer view discovered him to be none other than Howard Lawrence.
When Buffalo Bill recognized the horseman he put Midnight into a rapid gallop and started toward him.
Whether it was a guilty conscience of intending wrong to the scout, or fear, we cannot tell, but Howard Lawrence instantly turned to fly.