“There is another matter which probably you do not know,” went on the naturalist. “That is the fact that when he captured Swingley and Hoog, this young Texan got the men who were actually responsible for your stepfather’s death. Swingley’s guilt, of course was apparent, but you did not know that, when the others in the command were disposed to let Nicholas escape, as he was running toward the foothills, it was Tom Hoog who was called upon to fire the fatal shot. Swingley cursed the other cowboys for their purposely bad marksmanship and commanded Hoog to get the fleeing man. Hoog aimed deliberately, and it was that final shot which brought about Nicholas Caldwell’s death.” Alma Caldwell rose unsteadily. “Then I owe him everything,” she said. “What a wrong I have done by taking so much for granted!” “Well,” rejoined the naturalist, “he’s coming now, so you can tell him, like a good girl.” But it was the Texan who did the telling. “Alma,” he said, as the girl came to meet him, and the naturalist discreetly retired to the companionship of the stuffed specimens in the cabin, “Alma, I’m going back to Texas. My uncle has written me that he wants to turn over his ranches to me, as part owner and manager. I never felt lonesome down there before, but I’m going to this time, unless you go with me. Can you leave this country, as the wife of one of the invaders?” The girl’s eyes smiled into his, as she replied: “I always did like Texas.” Then, as his arms went about her, she added: “And Texans!” [Transcriber’s note: This story appeared in the January 7, 1922 issue of Western Story Magazine.]