At the ranch house they laid Jefferson Billings on his bed and covered him with a sheet, and then “Smooth” Kreff went to Wichita and told her of his deductions and the premises upon which they were based. “I don’t believe it,” said the girl. “Shoz-Dijiji has always been friendly to us. I ran across him by accident in the hills yesterday, and he rode home with me because, he said, there were other renegades around and it might not be safe for me to ride alone. It must have been some other Indian who did it.” “But his cayuse is gone,” insisted Kreff. “He may have taken his pony,” admitted the girl. “I don’t say that he didn’t do that. It was his; and he had a right to take it, but I don’t believe that he killed Dad.” “Your Paw didn’t have no use fer Injuns,” Kreff reminded her. “He might have taken a shot at this Siwash.” “No; his guns were both in their holsters, and his rifle was in its boot. He never saw the man that shot him.” Kreff scratched his head. “I reckon thet’s right,” he admitted. “It shore was a dirty trick. Thet’s what makes me know it was a Siwash.” The girl turned away sadly. “Don’t you worry none, Miss,” said Kreff; “I’ll look after things fer you, jes’ like your Paw was here.” “Thanks, ‘Smooth,’” replied Wichita. “You boys have been wonderful.” After the man had left the room the girl sat staring fixedly at the opposite wall. A calendar hung there and a colored print in a cheap frame, but these she did not see. What she saw was the tall, straight figure of a bronzed man, an almost naked savage. He sat upon his war pony and looked into her eyes. “Shoz-Dijiji does not kill anyone that you love,” he said to her. The girl dropped her face into her hands, stifling a dry sob. “Oh, Shoz-Dijiji, how could you?” she cried. Suddenly she sprang to her feet. Her lips were set in a straight, hard line; her eyes flashed in anger. “Oh, God!” she cried. “You gave me love; and I threw it away upon an Indian, upon an enemy of my people; and now, in your anger, you have punished me. I was blind, but you have made me to see again. Forgive me, God, and you will see that I have learned my lesson well.” Stepping through the doorway onto the porch, Wichita seized a short piece of iron pipe and struck a triangle of iron that hung suspended from a roof joist. Three times she struck it, and in answer to the signal the men came from bunk house and corrals until all that had been within hearing of the summons were gathered before her. Dry eyed, she faced them; and upon her countenance was an expression that none ever had seen there before. It awed them into silence as they waited for her to speak. They were rough, uncouth men, little able to put their inmost thoughts into words, and none of them ever had looked upon an avenging angel; otherwise they would have found a fitting description for the daughter of their dead Boss as she faced them now.