“My dear Hugh,” replied the captain, “I know your love for Ethel was very great; then you were a young man, only twenty-five years old. You are more than fifty now, and many changes have come. Be brave and courageous. Ethel, your little wife, died a year after you were wounded, but little Hugh has grown to be a man much loved and respected by all. He is an honor to you.” “But, Captain,” faltered Stanton, while tears sprang to his eyes, “where have I been all these years?” “Not idle,” replied the captain, “you are perhaps the richest man in southwestern Kansas; you are called John B. Horton, the cattle king, and, as I remarked awhile ago, you live at Horton’s Grove, two miles from here, with your good wife and your lovely daughter, Ethel.” “Yes, yes,” said he, clasping his hands to his head and sinking into a chair which the captain had pushed toward him. “Yes, yes, I am beginning to remember,—yes, beginning to remember.” He finally grew silent and was lost in thought. Captain Osborn paced patiently back and forth before the silent man. He felt sure that Hugh Stanton of his boyhood days and John B. Horton of the present were manfully struggling with the tangled thread of memory, for many years severed but now laboring to be reunited. CHAPTER XXXVIII.—TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION AFTER what seemed to Captain Osborn to be an interminable length of time, the wounded man arose from his chair and gazed long and earnestly at his reflection in the mirror; then, turning, he said: “God be praised, Captain Osborn, I remember all. Yes,” he went on, as the two men clasped hands, “I remember my two lives. I’ve lived them all over, even down to the time when I was thrown from the mustang in front of your bank. I must be known as John Bruce Horton, but, for God’s sake, bring me my boy, my son, Hugh. No wonder I took such a strong fancy to him from the first day we met after his arrival in Meade.” The two men embraced, and then the captain, going to the adjoining room, beckoned to Hugh, who hastily approached. “He remembers all,” said the captain, “both his lives. Go in to your father.” Then, gently closing the door, Captain Osborn turned to the post commander, Captain Painter, and his associates, and explained to them in detail the marvelous story. An hour later Hugh joined Captain Osborn and his associates. He was noticeably agitated, and his eyes were red with weeping. “Gentlemen,” he said, “my tears have been those of joy at finding my father. I am going to Horton’s Grove.” Then, bidding them adieu, he hastily took his departure. Arriving at the Grove, he found Mrs. Horton seated on the veranda. “Welcome, Mr. Stanton,” said she, as Hugh, with flushed face, saluted her with more warmth than usual. Without wasting time, he hastily narrated to her all that had occurred. Her expressions of distress and alarm, when told of the accident which had befallen her husband, and of amazement as Hugh’s narrative proceeded, were indeed a study.