likes; it is in his line; the camp is not interested.
V
Ten days later.
“James Walker” is all right in body now, and his mind shows improvement
too. I start with him for Denver to-morrow morning.
Next night. Brief note, mailed at a way-station.
As we were starting, this morning, Hillyer whispered to me: “Keep this
news from Walker until you think it safe and not likely to disturb his
mind and check his improvement: the ancient crime he spoke of was really
committed–and by his cousin, as he said. We buried the real criminal
the other day–the unhappiest man that has lived in a century–Flint
Buckner. His real name was Jacob Fuller!” There, mother, by help of me,
an unwitting mourner, your husband and my father is in his grave. Let
him rest.