whole country. He's the benevolent renegade, Squaw-man Gale."

"John Gale?"

"Gaylord is his name, and I was a fool not to know it sooner."

"How did you discover this?" inquired Burrell, lamely. "What proof
have you?"

The disclosure had not affected the soldier as Stark expected, and
his anger began to lift itself.

"That's neither here nor there; the man's a murderer; he's wanted in
California, where I came from; he's been indicted, and there's a
price on his head. He's hidden for fifteen years, but he'll hang as
sure as I stand here."

Disclosures of a complex nature had so crowded on Burrell in the
last few hours that he saw himself the centre of a most unfortunate
and amazing tangle. Things were difficult enough as it was, but to
have this man appear and cry for justice--this man above all
others!--it was a complication quite unlocked for--a hideous
mockery. He must gain time for thought. One false step might ruin
all. He could not face this on the spur of the moment, so, shrugging
his shoulders with an air of polite scepticism, he assumed a tone of
good-natured raillery.

"Fifteen years? Murder? John Gale a murderer? Why, that's almost--
pardon me if I smile--I'm getting sleepy. What proof have you?"