CHAPTER XV
"There's one thing sure in all cases of crime: If people would onlydepend more on Nature and less on themselves, they'd get resultssooner."
Lowell and his chief clerk were finishing one of their regular eveningdiscussions of the crime which most people were forgetting, but whichstill occupied the Indian agent's mind to the complete exclusion of allreservation business.
"What do you mean?" asked Rogers, from behind smoke clouds.
"Just the fact that, if we can only find it, Nature has tagged everycrime in a way that makes it possible to get an answer."
"But there are lots of crimes in which no manifestation of Nature ispossible."
"Not a one. What are finger-prints but manifestations of Nature? And yetfor ages we couldn't see the sign that Nature hung out for us. No doubtwe're just as obtuse about a lot of things that will be just as simpleand just as plain when their meaning is finally driven home."
"But Nature hasn't given a hint about that Dollar Sign road crime. Yetit took place outdoors, right in Nature's haunts."
"You simply mean that we haven't been able to comprehend Nature'ssignals."
"But you've been over the ground a dozen times, haven't you?"
"Fifty times--but all that merely proves what I contend. If I go overthat ground one hundred times, and don't find anything, what does itprove? Merely that I am ninety-nine times stupider than I should be. Ishould get the answer the first time over."
Rogers laughed.
"I prefer the most comfortable theory. I've settled down in the popularbelief that Bill Talpers did the killing. Think how easy that makes itfor me--and the chances are that I'm right at that."
"You are hopeless, Ed! But remember, if this thing goes unsolved it willonly be because we haven't progressed beyond the first-reader stage ininterpreting what Mother Nature has to teach us."
For several days following the acquittal of Fire Bear and McFann, Lowellhad worked almost unceasingly in the hope of getting new evidence in thecase which nearly everybody else seemed willing to forget. A similarpersistency had marked Lowell's career as a newspaper reporter. He hadturned up several sensations when rival newspaper men had abandonedcertain cases as hopeless so far as new thrills were concerned.
Lowell had not exaggerated when he told Rogers he had gone over thescene of the murder fifty times. He had not gone into details with hisclerk. Rogers would have been surprised to know that his chief had evenblocked out the scene of the murder in squares like a checkerboard. Eachone of these squares had been examined, slowly and painfully. The netresult had been some loose change which undoubtedly had been dropped byTalpers in robbing the murdered man; an eagle feather, probably droppedfrom a _coup_ stick which some one of Fire Bear's followers had borrowedfrom an elder; a flint arrowhead of great antiquity, and a belt buckleand some moccasin beads.
Far from being discouraged at the unsuccessful outcome of hischeckerboarding plan, Lowell took his automobile, on the morningfollowing his talk with Rogers, and again visited the scene of thecrime.
For six weeks the hill had been bathed daily in sunshine. The drought,which the Indians had ascribed to evil spirits called down by Fire Bear,had continued unbroken. The mud-holes in the road, through which Lowellhad plunged to the scene of the murder when he had first heard of thecrime, had been churned to dust. Lowell noticed that an old buffalowallow at the side of the road was still caked in irregular formationswhich resembled the markings of alligator hide. The first hot windswould cause these cakes of mud to disintegrate, but the weather had beencalm, and they had remained just as they had dried.
As he glanced about him at the peaceful panorama, it occurred to theagent that perhaps too much attention had been centered upon the exactspot of the murder. Yet, it seemed reasonable enough to suppose, nomurderer would possibly lie in wait for a victim in such an open spot.If the murder had been deliberately planned, as Lowell believed, and ifthe victim's approach were known, there could have been no waiting hereon the part of the murderer.
Getting into his automobile, Lowell drove carefully up the hill,studying both sides of the road as he went. Several hundred yards fromthe scene of the murder, he found a clump of giant sagebrush andgreasewood, close to the road. Lowell entered the clump and found thatfrom its eastern side he could command a good view of the Dollar Signroad for miles. Here a man and horse might remain hidden until atraveler, coming up the hill, was almost within hailing distance. Thebrush had grown in a circle, leaving a considerable hollow which wasdevoid of vegetation. Examining this hollow closely, Lowell pausedsuddenly and uttered a low ejaculation. Then he walked slowly to hisautomobile and drove in the direction of the Greek Letter Ranch.
When he arrived at the ranch house Lowell was relieved to find thatHelen was not at home. Wong, who opened the door a scant six inches,told him she had taken the white horse and gone for a ride.
"Well, tell Mister Willis Morgan I want to see him," said Lowell.
Wong was much alarmed. Mister Morgan could not be seen. The Chinesecombination of words for "impossible" was marshaled in behalf of Wong'semployer.
Lowell, putting his shoulder against the Greek letter brand which wasburnt in the panel, pushed the door open and stepped into the room whichserved as a library.
"Now tell Mister Morgan I wish to see him, Wong," said the agent firmly.
The door to the adjoining room opened, and Lowell faced the questioninggaze of a gray-haired man who might have been anywhere from forty-fiveto sixty. One hand was in the pocket of a velvet smoking-jacket, and theother held a pipe. The man's eyes were dark and deeply set. They did notseem to Lowell to be the contemplative eyes of the scholar, but ratherto belong to a man of decisive action--one whose interests might be inbuilding bridges or tunnels, but whose activities were always concernedwith material things. His face was lean and bronzed--the face of a manwho lived much in the outdoors. His nose was aquiline, and his lips,though thin and firm, were not unkindly. In fact, here was a man who, inthe class-room, might be given to quips with his students, rather thanto sternness. Yet this was the man of whom it was said.... Lowell's facegrew stern as the long list of indictments against Willis Morgan,recluse and "squaw professor," came to his mind.
The gray-haired man sat down at the table, and Lowell, in response to awave of the hand that held the pipe, drew up opposite.
"You and I have been living pretty close together a long time," saidLowell bluntly, "and if we'd been a little more neighborly, this callmight not be so difficult in some ways."
"My fault entirely." Again the hand waved--this time toward theceiling-high shelves of books. "Library slavery makes a man selfish,I'll admit."
The voice was cold and hard. It was such a voice that had extended amocking welcome to Helen Ervin when she had stood hesitatingly on thethreshold of the Greek Letter Ranch-house. Lowell sneered openly.
"You haven't always been so tied up to your books that you couldn't getout," he said. "I want to take you back to a little horseback ride whichyou took just six weeks ago."
"I don't remember such a trip."
"You will remember it, as I particularize."
"Very well. You are beginning to interest me."
"You rode from here to the top of the hill on the Dollar Sign road. Doyou remember?"
"What odds if I say yes or no? Go on. I want to hear the rest of thisstory."
"When you reached a clump of tall sage and grease wood, not far belowthe crest of the hill, you entered it and remained hidden. You had aconsiderable time to wait, but you were patient--very patient. You knewthe man you wanted to meet was somewhere on the road--coming toward you.From the clump of bushes you commanded a view of the Dollar Sign roadfor miles. As I say, it was long and tedious waiting. It had rained inthe night. The sun came out, strong and warm, and the atmosphere wasmoist. Your horse, that old white horse which has been on the ranch somany years, was impatiently fighting flies. Though you are not anykinder to horseflesh than you are to human beings who come with
in yourblighting influence, you took the saddle off the animal. Perhaps thehorse had caught his foot in a stirrup as he kicked at a buzzing fly."
The keen, strong features into which Lowell gazed were mask-like intheir impassiveness.
"Soon you saw something approaching on the road over the prairie," wenton the agent. "It must be the automobile driven by the man you had cometo meet. You saddled quickly and rode out of the sagebrush. You met theman in the automobile as he was climbing the hill. He stopped and youtalked with him. You had violent words, and then you shot him with asawed-off shotgun which you had carried for that purpose. You killed theman, and then, to throw suspicion on others, conceived the idea ofstaking him down to the prairie. It would look like an Indian trick.Besides, you knew that there had been some trouble on the reservationwith Indians who were dancing and generally inclined to opposeGovernment regulations. You had found a rope which had been dropped onthe road by the half-breed, Jim McFann. You took that rope from yoursaddle and cut it in four pieces and tied the man's hands and wrists tohis own tent-stakes, which you found in his automobile.
"Your plans worked out well. It was a lonely country and comparativelyearly in the day. There was nobody to disturb you at your work.Apparently you had thought of every detail. You had left a few tracks,and these you obliterated carefully. You knew you would hardly besuspected unless something led the world to your door. You had been arecluse for years, hated by white men and feared by red. Few had seenyour face. You could retire to this lonely ranch and live your customarylife, with no fear of suffering for the crime you had committed. To besure, an Indian or two might be hanged, but a matter like that wouldrest lightly on your conscience.
"Apparently your plans were perfect, but you overlooked one small thing.Most clever scoundrels do. You did not think that perhaps Nature mightlay a trap to catch you--a trap in the brush where you had been hidden.Your horse rolled in the mud to rid himself of the pest of flies. Youwere so intent on the approach of your victim that you did not noticethe animal. Yet there in the mud, and visible to-day, was made theimprint of your horse's shoulder, _bearing the impression of the GreekLetter brand_!"
As Lowell finished, he rose slowly, his hands on the table and his gazeon the unflinching face in front of him. The gray-haired man rose also.
"I suppose," he said, in a voice from which all trace of harshness haddisappeared, "you have come to give me over to the authorities onaccount of this crime."
"Yes."
"Very well. I committed the murder, much as you have explained it, but Idid not ride the white horse to the hill. Nor am I Willis Morgan. I amEdward Sargent. Morgan was the man whom I killed and staked down on theprairie!"
CHAPTER XVI
Helen Ervin rode past the ranch door just as the gray-haired man madehis statement to Lowell.
"You are Edward Sargent, the man who was supposed to have beenmurdered?" repeated the Indian agent, in astonishment.
"Yes; but wait till Miss Ervin comes in. The situation may require alittle clearing, and she can help."
Surprise and anxiety alternated in Helen's face as she looked in throughthe open doorway and saw the men seated at the table. She paused amoment, silhouetted in the door, the Greek letter on the panel standingout with almost startling distinctness beside her. As she stood poisedon the threshold in her riding-suit, the ravages of her previous triphaving been repaired, she made Lowell think of a modernizedDiana--modernized as to clothes, but carrying, in her straight-limbedgrace, all the world-old spell of the outdoors.
"Our young friend has just learned the truth, my dear," said thegray-haired man. "He knows that I am Sargent, and that our stepfather,Willis Morgan, is dead."
Helen stepped quickly to Sargent's side. There was something suggestingfilial protection in her attitude. Sargent smiled up at her,reassuringly.
"Probably it is better," he said, "that the whole thing should beknown."
"But in a few days we should have been gone," said Helen. "Why have allour hopes been destroyed in this way at the last moment? Is this some ofyour work," she added bitterly, addressing Lowell--"some of your work asa spy?"
Sargent spoke up quickly.
"It was fate," he said. "I have felt from the first that I should nothave attempted to escape punishment for my deed. The young man hassimply done his duty. He worked with the sole idea of getting at thetruth--and it is always the truth that matters most. What difference canit make who is hurt, so long as the truth is known?"
"But how did it become known," asked Helen, "when everything seemed tobe so thoroughly in our favor? The innocent men who were suspected hadbeen released. The public was content to let the crime rest at the doorof Talpers--a man capable of any evil deed. What has happened to changematters so suddenly?"
"It was the old white horse that betrayed us," said Sargent, with a grimsmile. "It shows on what small threads our fates hang balanced. TheGreek letter brand still shows in the mud where the horse rolled on theday of the murder on the Dollar Sign hill. When our young friend heresaw that bit of evidence, he came directly to the ranch and accused meof knowledge of the crime, all the time thinking I was Willis Morgan."
"Let me continue my work as a spy," broke in Lowell bitterly, "and askfor a complete statement."
"Willis Morgan was my twin brother," said Sargent. "As Willard Sargenthe had made a distinguished name for himself among the teachers of Greekin this country. He was a professor at an early age, his bent towardscholarship being opposite to mine, which was along the lines ofinvention. My brother was a hard, cruel man, beneath a polishedexterior. Cynicism was as natural to him as breathing. He married ayoung and beautiful woman, who had been married before, and who had alittle daughter--a mere baby, Willard's wife soon died, a victim of hiscynicism and studied cruelty. The future of this helpless stepdaughterof my brother's became a matter of the most intimate concern to me. Mybrother was mercenary to a marked degree. I had become successful in myinventions of mining machinery. I was fast making a fortune. Willardcalled upon me frequently for loans, which I never refused. In fact, Ihad voluntarily advanced him thousands of dollars, from which I expectedno return. A mere brotherly feeling of gratitude would have beensufficient repayment for me. But such a feeling my brother never had.His only object was to get as much out of me as he could, and to sneerat me, in his high-bred way, while making a victim of me.
"His success in getting money from me led him into deep waters. Hevictimized others, who threatened prosecution. Realizing that matterscould not go on as they were going, I told my brother that I would takeup the claims against him and give him one hundred thousand dollars, oncertain conditions. Those conditions were that he was to renounce allclaim to his little stepdaughter, and that I was to have sole care ofher. He was to go to some distant part of the country and change hisname and let the world forget that such a creature as Willard Sargentever existed.
"My brother was forced to agree to the terms laid down. The universitytrustees were threatening him with expulsion. He resigned and came outhere. He married an Indian woman, and, as I understand it, killed her bythe same cold-hearted, deliberately cruel treatment that had broughtabout the death of his first wife.
"Meantime Willard's stepdaughter, who was none other than Helen, wasbrought up by a lifelong friend of mine, Miss Scovill, at her school forgirls in California. The loving care that she was given can best be toldby Helen. I did not wish the girl to know that she was dependent uponher uncle for support. In fact, I did not want her to learn anythingwhich might lead to inquiries into her babyhood, and which would onlybring her sorrow when she learned of her mother's fate. My brother,always clever in his rascalities, learned that Helen knew nothing of myexistence. He sent her a letter, when Miss Scovill was away, tellingHelen that he had been crippling himself financially to keep her inschool, and now he needed her at this ranch. Before Miss Scovill hadreturned, Helen, acting on the impulse of the moment, had departed formy brother's place. Miss Scovill was greatly alarmed, and sent me atelegra
m. As soon as I received word, I started for my brother's ranch.I happened to have started on an automobile tour at the time, andfigured that I could reach here as quickly by machine as by makingfrequent changes from rail to stage.
"When Helen arrived at the ranch, it can be imagined how the success ofhis scheme delighted Willis Morgan, as my brother was known here. Hethreatened her with the direst of evils, and declared he would drag herbeneath the level of the poorest squaw on the Indian reservation.Fortunately she is a girl of spirit and determination. The Chineseservant was willing to help her to escape. She would have fled at thefirst opportunity, in spite of my brother's declaration that escapewould be impossible, but it happened that, during the course of hisboasting, her captor overstepped himself. He told her of my existence,and that I had really been the one who had kept her in school. He hadmanaged to keep a thorough system of espionage in effect, so far as MissScovill and myself were concerned. He had known when she left SanFrancisco, and he also knew that I was coming, by automobile, to takeHelen from the ranch. He laughed as he told her of my coming. All theferocity of his nature blazed forth, and he told Helen that he intendedto kill me at sight, and would also kill her.
"Desirous of warning me, even at risk of her own life, Helen mailed aletter to me at Quaking-Asp Grove, hoping to catch me before I reachedthat place. In this letter she warned me not to come to the ranch, asshe felt that tragedy impended. Talpers held up the letter and read it,and thought to hold it as a club over Helen's head, showing that sheknew something of the murder.
"I rode through Quaking-Asp Grove and White Lodge and the Indian agencyat night. I had a breakdown after going past Talpers's store--a tire toreplace. By the time I climbed the hill on the Dollar Sign road it waswell along in the morning. I saw a man coming toward me on a whitehorse. It was my brother, Willard Sargent, or Willis Morgan. He lookedmuch like me. The years seemed to have dealt with us about alike. Iknew, as soon as I saw him, that he had come out to kill me. We talked afew minutes. I had stopped the car at his demand, and he sat in thesaddle, close beside me. There is no need of going into the details ofour conversation. He was full of reproaches. His later life had beenmore of a punishment for him than I had suspected. His voice was full ofvenom as he threatened me. He told me that Helen was at the ranch, but Iwould never see her. He had a sawed-off shotgun in his hand. I had noweapon. I made a quick leap at him and threw him from his horse. Theshotgun fell in the road. I jumped for it just as he scrambled after it.I wrested the weapon from him. He tried to draw a revolver that swung ina holster at his hip. There was no chance for me to take that from him.It was a case of his life or mine. I fired the shotgun, and the chargetore away the lower part of his face.
"Strangely enough, I had no regret at what I had done. It was not that Ihad saved my own life--I had managed to intervene between Helen and afate worse than death. I weighed matters and acted with a coolness thatsurprised me, even while I was carrying out the details that followed.It occurred to me that, because of our close resemblance to each other,it might be possible for me to pass myself off as my brother. I knewthat he had lived the life of a recluse here, and that few people knewhim by sight. We were dressed much alike, as I was traveling in khaki,and he wore clothes of that material. I removed everything from hispockets, and then I put my watch and checkbook and other papers in hispockets. I even went so far as to put my wallet in his inner pocket,containing bills of large denomination.
"I had heard that there was some dissatisfaction among certain youngIndians on the reservation--that those Indians were dancing and makingtrouble in general. It seemed to me that such a situation might be madeuse of in some way. Why not drag my brother's body out on the prairie atthe side of the road and stake it down? Suspicion might be thrown on theIndians. I had no sooner thought of the plan than I proceeded to carryit out. I worked calmly and quickly. There was no living thing in sightto cause alarm. I took a rawhide lariat, which I found attached to thesaddle on the old white horse, and used it to tie my brother's anklesand wrists to tent-stakes which I took from my automobile.
"After my work was done, I looked it over carefully, to see that I hadleft nothing undone and had made no blunder in what I had accomplished.I obliterated all tracks, as far as possible. Although it had rained thenight before, and there was mud in the old buffalo wallows and in thedepressions in the road, the prairie where I had staked the body was dryand dusty.
"After I had arranged everything to my satisfaction, I mounted the oldwhite horse and rode to the ranch, merely following the trail the horsehad made coming out. When I arrived here and made myself known to Helen,you can imagine her joy, which soon was changed to consternation whenshe found what had been done. But my plan of living here and letting theworld suppose that I was Willard Sargent, or Willis Morgan, seemedfeasible. Wong was our friend from the first. We knew we could depend onhis Oriental discretion. But we were not to escape lightly. Talpers'sattitude was a menace until, through a fortunate set of circumstances,we managed to secure a compensating hold over him. Undoubtedly Talpershad been first on the scene after the murder. He had robbed my brother'sbody, and was caught in his ghoul-like act by his partner, Jim McFann.The half-breed believed Talpers when the trader told him that a watchwas all he had found on the dead man. The later discovery that Talpershad deceived him, and had really taken a large sum of money from thebody, led the half-breed to kill the trader.
"I decided to await the outcome of the trial. It would have beenimpossible for me to let Fire Bear or McFann go to prison, or perhaps tothe gallows, for my deed. If either one, or both, had been convicted, Iintended to make a confession. But matters seemed to work out well forus. The accused men were freed, and it seemed to be the general opinionthat Talpers had committed the crime. Talpers was dead. There was nooccasion for me to confess. I had thoughts of going away, quietly, tosome place where I could begin life over again. Miss Scovill is inpossession of a will making Helen my heir. This will could have beenproduced, and thus Helen would have been well provided for. I had keptin seclusion here, and had even feigned illness, in order that nonemight suspect me of being other than Willis Morgan. But if any one hadseen me I do not believe the deception would have been discovered, soclose is my resemblance to my brother. Always having been a passablemimic, I imitated my brother's voice. It was a voice that had oftenstirred me to wrath, because of its cold, cutting qualities. The firsttime I imitated my brother's voice, Wong came in from the kitchenlooking frightened beyond measure. He thought the ghost of his oldemployer had returned to the ranch.
"But of what use is all such planning when destiny wills otherwise? Atrifling incident--the rolling of a horse in the mud--brought everythingabout my ears. Yet I believe it is for the best. Nor do I believe yourdiscovery to have been a mere matter of chance. Probably you were led bya higher force than mere devotion to duty. Truth must have loyalservitors such as you if justice is to survive in this world. I amheartily glad that you persisted in your search. I feel more at ease inmind and body to-night than I have felt since the day of the tragedy.Now if you will excuse me a moment, I will make preparations for givingmyself up to the authorities--perhaps to higher authorities than thoseat White Lodge."
Sargent stepped into the adjoining room as he finished talking. Helendid not raise her head from the table. Something in Sargent's finalwords roused Lowell's suspicion. He walked quickly into the room andfound Sargent taking a revolver from the drawer of a desk. Lowellwrested the weapon from his grasp.
"That's the last thing in the world you should do," said the Indianagent, in a low voice. "There isn't a jury that will convict you. Ifit's expiation you seek, do you think that cowardly sort of expiation isgoing to bring anything but new unhappiness to _her_ out there?"
"No," said Sargent. "I give you my word this will not be attemptedagain."
* * * * *
Space meeting space--plains and sky welded into harmonies of blue andgray. Cloud shadows racing across billowy uplands, and sag
ebrush noddingin a breeze crisp and electric as only a breeze from our upper Westernplateau can be. Distant mountains, with their allurements enhanced bythe filmiest of purple veils. Bird song and the chattering of prairiedogs from the foreground merely intensifying the great, echoless silenceof the plains.
Lowell and Helen from a ridge--_their_ ridge it was now!--watched thechanges of the panorama. They had dismounted, and their horses werestanding near at hand, reins trailing, and manes rising and falling withthe undulations of the breeze. It was a month after Sargent's confessionand his surrender as the slayer of the recluse of the Greek LetterRanch. As Lowell had prophesied, Sargent's acquittal had been prompt.His story was corroborated by brief testimony from Lowell and Helen.Citizens crowded about him, after the jury had brought in its verdict of"Not guilty," and one of the first to congratulate him was Jim McFann,who had been acquitted when he came up for trial for slaying Talpers.The half-breed told Sargent of Talpers's plan to kill Helen.
"I'm just telling you," said the half-breed, "to ease your mind in caseyou're feeling any responsibility for Talpers's death."
Soon after his acquittal Sargent departed for California, where hemarried Miss Scovill--the outcome of an early romance. Helen was soon toleave to join her foster parents, and she and Lowell had come for a lastride.
"I cannot realize the glorious truth of it all--that I am to come soonand claim you and bring you back here as my wife," said Lowell. "Say itall over again for me."
He was standing with both arms about her and with her face uptilted tohis. No doubt other men and women had stood thus on this glacier-wroughtpromontory--lovers from cave and tepee.
"It is all true," Helen answered, "but I must admit that theresponsibilities of being an Indian agent's wife seem alarming. Thethought of there being so much to do among these people makes me afraidthat I shall not be able to meet the responsibilities."
"You'll be bothered every day with Indians--men, women, and babies.You'll hear the thumping of their moccasined feet every hour of the day.They'll overrun your front porch and seek you out in the sacredprecincts of your kitchen, mostly about things that are totallyinconsequential."
"But think of the work in its larger aspects--the good that there is tobe done."
Lowell smiled at her approvingly.
"That's the way you have to keep thinking all the time. You have to lookbeyond the mass of detail in the foreground--past all the minorannoyances and the red tape and the seeming ingratitude. You've got tofigure that you're there to supply the needed human note--to let thesepeople understand that this Government of ours is not a mere machinewith the motive power at Washington. You've got to feel that you've beensent here to make up for the indifference of the outside world--that thekiddies out in those ramshackle cabins and cold tepees are not going tobe lonely, and suffer and die, if you can help it. You've got to feelthat it's your help that's going to save the feeble and sick--sometimesfrom their own superstitions. There's no reason why we can't in time geta hospital here for Indians, like Fire Bear, who have tuberculosis.We're going to save Fire Bear, and we can save others. And then thereare the school-children, with lonely hours that can be lightened, andwith work to be found for them in the big world after they have learnedthe white man's tasks. But there are going to be heartaches anddisillusionments for a woman. A man can grit his teeth and smash throughsome way, unless he sinks back into absolute indifference as a good manyIndian agents do. But a woman--well, dear, I dread to think of yourembarking on a task which is at once so alluring and so endless andthankless."
Helen put her hand on his lips.
"With you helping me, no task can seem thankless."
"Well, then, this is our kingdom of work," said Lowell, with a sweep ofhis sombrero which included the vast reservation which smiled soinscrutably at them. "There's every human need to be met out there inall that bigness. We'll face it together--and we'll win!"
They rode back leisurely along the ridge and took the trail that led tothe ranch. The house was closed, as Wong was at the agency, ready toleave for the Sargents' place in California. The old white horse, whichHelen rode, tried to turn in at the ranch gate.
"The poor old fellow doesn't understand that his new home is at theagency," said Helen. "He is the only one that wants to return to thisplace of horrors."
"The leasers will be here soon," replied Lowell. "They are going to putup buildings and make a new place all told. The Greek letter on the doorwill be gone, but, no matter what changes are made, I have no doubt thatpeople will continue to know it as Mystery Ranch."
THE END
Mystery Ranch Page 15
