“If you can get anything out of her, you’re ahead of me,” the marshal admitted; “she fit like a wildcat, when I told her she would have to come back here, and only stopped it when I threatened I’d put irons on her. She weakened at that, and come along; but she’s a plum furious beauty, I tell you, git her started.” The blonde woman and Juniper Joe were taken into a back room of the stage office, where they were brought face to face. In the room at the time was the marshal of Calumet Springs, with Nomad and the baron, and, of course, the scout, together with the local manager of the stage line. Buffalo Bill, a shrewd reader of human nature, opened the ball by telling the woman that Juniper Joe was under arrest for the murder of the man called Jackson Dane, but whom Joe had said was Tim Benson. Her face paled at that, and her eyes flashed, and she turned on the prisoner like a tigress. “Is that so?” she cried. “It’s a lie!” Juniper Joe declared to her. She turned to Buffalo Bill. “Is it true,” she said, “that he has killed him?” “Dane has been killed, and we believe this man did it; we have evidence which it seems to us proves it.” “I’m sure he did--if he is dead.” She bent her burning eyes on Juniper Joe; and he seemed to wither under them. “Where is Tim?” she demanded. “I--I don’t know what you’re sayin’!” he said. “Oh, yes, you do!” she flashed at him. “Where is the man who was pretending to be your wife--the man you made everybody believe was a woman, when you had that fake wedding at your cabin? That was a fine game; and I nearly died laughing when I knew about it. What’s become of him?” It was an astonishing revelation; and Buffalo Bill questioned her about it. “Well, that’s the straight truth I’m giving you,” she said defiantly; “I don’t care anything about this scoundrel here; you can hang him, if you want to, and I think he needs it; but I do want to know what has become of the man who played that game with him. I want to know if he is dead, too, or what has become of him.” “He isn’t dead!” the scout told her. “No! Then, if you know where he is, you had better arrest him at once; for that man is Tim Benson, the road agent.” “You’re sure of that?” the scout demanded. “Well, I reckon I am. Didn’t he come down to the Casino to see me yesterday, and just because he was jealous of Dane?” “Is Dane the name of the man who was killed by Juniper Joe?” A dash of tears came into her eyes. “Well, no, it isn’t, if I have to tell; and as he is dead, it doesn’t matter now. His name was Ward--John Ward.” It was another surprise; for John Ward was almost as notorious an outlaw as Tim Benson.