Buffalo Bill was sitting on a rock mopping his face. He was about to make some sort of response, when Myra Wilton left her lover and stood in front of him. First she smiled, and then impulsively leaned over and kissed him. “The debt is wiped out,” he said, as he took her two hands and pressed them. “But”—he paused and smiled at Carl Henson—“you must let me dance at your wedding.” “You shall,” she responded, with a pretty blush. The king of scouts now gave his mind to more serious concerns. “How is it with Rixton Holmes?” he asked Wild Bill. “It’s a case of dying, Cody. The fellow struck his cabesa on a sharp rock when he fell, and the point became acquainted with his Sarah Billium.” “Can he talk?” “Don’t know. I’ll bring him down for you.” Bart Angell went with Wild Bill. They soon returned bearing the limp form of the villainous cousin of Myra Wilton. The wound was bandaged, and whisky was forced down his throat. Soon he opened his eyes and stared about him. He saw the girl he had tried to murder, and he looked into the sober, reproachful countenance of the king of scouts. “Take the money,” he said faintly, and trying to conjure up a smile. “I’ve lost.” He was asked to make a full confession of his crimes. “Life is too short for that,” he replied, “but I’ll tell something about the mine affair. I would never have plotted to kill my three uncles if I hadn’t bumped up against Tom Darke. He knew me as Rixton Clay, and had no notion that I was related to the Holmeses. We became card partners, and soon I knew all his secrets. One night when he was pretty full he told me that he had come West for the purpose of killing three men—Peter, Jared, and Matt Holmes. At that time Peter’s mine was the talk of Colorado. There had been a rich discovery, and the mine was worth millions. “Well, I reflected, and soon the plot was born. Tom Darke killed Peter and Jared, and he would have killed Matt if I had not taken the job off his hands. I had to, for I was afraid that Darke’s gun would miss fire and that Matt would get him. “The letter that brought my Cousin Myra to New Mexico was written by me. I had ingratiated myself with my Uncle Matt, and I knew he had made a will, leaving his estate to me and Myra. His estate then did not amount to much, but the estate of Peter did, and when Peter and Jared died, Matt became the owner of the mine. Before Myra arrived, Peter and Jared had crossed the divide. “I could have come forward and claimed half the estate when my three uncles were dead, but I was afraid that I would be arrested. Although I had covered my tracks pretty well, I dared not face the authorities. Therefore, my scheme at the last was to marry Myra, compel her to give me the larger part of her share, and then light out for foreign parts. “I believe she was on the point of trusting me, when you, Mr. Cody, was trapped in the cave. But I found when we got outside the hole that I had caught a Tartar.”