The colonel instantly turned toward the camp, commanding all to follow him. He halted before the tent of Lieutenant Wells, and said:
“You, Captain Walker, and you, Adjutant Hinton, enter this tent, and tell me what you find.”
The search lasted but a moment, during which time Wells had been assisting Miss Hayward, but not without evincing much agitation. Walker now appeared, holding in his hand a bowl of bloody water, and exhibiting the broken stiletto, covered with blood, which had been found in the overcoat pocket of Wells. A shirt, also, was found, which was stained with blood.
“What can you say to this damning proof of your guilt?” asked the colonel.
“Arrest the murderer of Captain Harry Hayward!” commanded the colonel, in a loud voice.
“Murderer! _He_ a murderer—and of my brother! No! no! This is some dreadful dream. Oh, tell me my brother is not murdered; it will kill me. Oh, see! Pity a friendless girl who kneels to you and begs you to tell her that you have _not_ deprived her of a dear brother. Speak to me, Edward. I did love you, and you would not harm him.”
Wells could not speak. He had never spoken to Miss Hayward of his love for her; but _now_, in the delirium of her grief, she had confessed her love for him. Oh, what a moment!
Walker advanced to raise Miss Hayward from her bended position before Wells.
“Paws off, ye darn skunk!” yelled Nettleton, as he hurled Walker to the ground. “_I_ alone am her protector now.”
_The Proposal—The Interruption—The Indian —The Rescue—The Wounded Man—The Mystery._
NEAR the village of Ozark, at the base of a ridge of mountains of that name, runs a most beautiful stream or river, which bears the name of the village, and is one of the tributaries of the north fork of the Gasconade. Its banks are high, and covered with a thick but small growth of the “scrub” oak, peculiar to that portion of Missouri. The bed of the river sparkles with brilliant white and yellow pebbles, polished by the rush of waters for thousands of years. A fine bridge spans the stream along the main road, that runs through the only opening in the forest for miles around. After crossing this bridge, and ascending a sharp hill, the village of Ozark is reached. This consists of about twenty ordinary-looking dwellings, a court-house, and a rough building, dignified by the name hotel. Beyond the village, and higher up the mountain, is a line of rolling hills, which overlook the country for miles around. On one of these, and near the edge of a grove, were to be seen a cluster of tents, and, from the number of horses picketed but a short distance away, it would at once be supposed, from a distance, to be a cavalry camp, with, perhaps, a section of artillery.