The captain looked keenly from man to man. "Very well," he said. Those twelve hours accounted for, Matthews was shown innocent of planting the pole. "Tell me what you did yesterday from revelly on."
"I goes into the stockade. Little Thief was carving his bride."
The captain glanced at Fraser. The latter nodded back.
"I remember," said Oliver, slowly. "Then----?"
But there was no softening of the captain's face. "Who played with you?"
Matthews indicated the sutler and the sergeant by a sideways move of the head. "Them two," he answered.
"True--true." And Blakely gave another bounce.
The thirty-six hours were now covered. Oliver sat down. "That'll do. I want The Squaw and the men who have been on duty at the stockade since the command left. Matthews, you may go."
Matthews bowed, Blakely and the sergeant saluted, and the three withdrew. Outside, beyond hearing, they exchanged congratulatory shakes of the hand.
"My! but the dander!" breathed the relieved sutler, rolling his apple-round head. "I was that scairt!"
"Make you happreciate the K. Ho. w'en you got 'im," returned Kippis, sagely.
Matthews shrugged his shoulders pityingly. But he had nothing to say.
The three gone, Oliver had turned to those with him. "A complete alibi," he said.
"I knew it," said Fraser. "But I wanted you to get it first hand."
"Yes, sir. And I hope you'll be easy on Kippis. He and Blakely have been helping me keep tab on Matthews to prevent the very thing that's happened."
An hour later, a second group of men gathered in the captain's front room. These were the troopers for whom the commanding officer had asked. With them came Squaw Charley, quaking in his tatters, flinching at every look. As Oliver appeared, the wretched Indian was half-dragged, half-pushed before him.
The examination was short. The sentries who had tramped the high board walk vouched for The Squaw's constant presence in the stockade throughout the whole of the required time. The guards at the sliding-panel lent corroboration. From sun-up till taps of the previous day, Charley had fleshed at the hide of an elk, the scarred fury, Afraid-of-a-Fawn, hanging over him the while. Both nights, from taps on, he had watched outside the lodge occupied by the hag and an Indian girl.