"You will remember that we have a charge from him, as my friend has told you; and indeed, it was not necessary that the charge should have been laid on us." He dropped her hand, and looking at me, said: "I believe we both would have considered it a privilege to in some slight way——" he seemed to feel that he was upon the wrong track, and she said: "Oh! That is nothing. Now that I have heard it all from you it is’ not—not so cruel as Charlie’s account. I think I must go now, and I have to thank you for being so truthful with me and telling me it all so plainly." She turned her face aside again and we perceived that she would be alone. So we passed from the room very quietly and saw the sheriff at the end of the corridor beckoning us, and went toward him. "She hes told you, I guess," said he, "that the case is off." Apache shook his head. "Pshaw!" said the sheriff. "What she want with you?" "To hear how Mr. Pinkerton died." "But she knew." "Yes," said Apache Kid, "as a savage saw it." The sheriff puckered his heavy mouth and raised his eyes. "Sure!" said he. "That’s what. Pretty coarse, I guess. You would kind o’ put the limelight on the scene." "Sir, sir!" said Apache Kid. "We have just come from her." "I beg your pardon, gen’lemen," he said. "I understand what you mean; I know—women and music, and especially them songs about Mother, and the old farm, and such, jest makes me _feel_ too, at times. I understand, boys, and I don’t mock you none. And that jest makes me think it might be sort of kind in you if you was goin’ out and gettin’ them cheerin’ boys out there some ways off, lest she hears them cheerin’ an’ it kind o’ jars on her." "Then I am free?" "Yap; that’s what," said the sheriff. "She rode up here with that Indian trailer feller when the news spread. The colonel tells me that it was a fellow, Pious Pete, hetched the story out. It was two strangers to me came to inform me about the killing of Pinkerton—said they saw you do it from out a bush where they was camped, and would have gone for you but they had gone busted on cartridges and you was heeled heavy. They put up a good enough story about them bein’ comin’ back from a prospectin’ trip, and had it all down fine. So I jest started right off." "But how did you know what way to come for us?" asked Apache Kid. "Oh, well, you see, I had been keepin’ track of Canlan. I hed lost sight o’ you, and when I heard you was in the hills away over there, and also knew how Canlan had gone out over Baker shoulder, I began to guess where The Lost Cabin lay. It was handier like for me to start trackin’ Canlan than to go away down to Kettle with them fellows and into the mountains there, and try to get on to your trail where they said you had buried Mr. P." Apache Kid nodded.