"There was a reason?"
"Yes," baldly. "Another woman."
The locked fingers across the Indian's knee were growing white; white as the sunlight without.
"And now he has returned, you say, to sell the ranch, her ranch?"
"It is her ranch no more. It is his."
"She, Bess, gave it to him after all that had happened, all that he had done? You mean to tell me this?"
Abruptly, instinctively, for the end was very close at hand, the white man got to his feet, stood so silent.
"Tell me." The Indian was likewise erect, his dark face standing clear against the white background of the tent wall. "Did Bess do this thing?"
"No," said a voice. "It came to him in another way."
"Another way!" swiftly. "Another way!" repeated. "Another way!" for the third time; and then a halt. For that moment realisation had come. "There could be but one other way!"