“Yes, I see.”
“It’s a long story, and the rest of it I’ll make short.
“The theft of the nugget from the colonel’s room was discovered. In some way it was believed that a man from outside did the work. In the search that was made, the soldiers—pack of fools that they were!—struck my trail, and followed it.”
“They weren’t so very far wrong,” remarked the scout. “You acknowledge that the nugget was in the letter you carried.”
Wilkins frowned; he did not like the interruption.
“They followed me. Another horseman had come to the house where the girl lived, and they arrested him, thinking they had their man.”
“I should say they were poor trailers, if they couldn’t tell the hoofmarks of your horse from his. No two are ever alike, any more than two faces are alike.”
“But they had the proof right on him, you see! He had the nugget. It was in the letter I threw to the girl as I flew by; she had shown it to him, and he was looking at it when they came on him.
“And so they arrested both him and the girl, and brought them in to the fort. He was the girl’s lover—the one she cared for—and his name is Ben Stevens. He’s a cowboy on one of these ranches.”
“And they’re here now—the young cowboy and the girl?” the scout asked.