parent. In Cahill's mind there was no moral question involved. If to
make his girl rich and a lady, and to lift her out of the life of the
Exchange, was a sin the sin was his own and he was willing to "stand
for it." And, like McTurk, he would see that the sin of the father
was not visited upon the child. Ranson was rich, foolishly, selfishly
rich; his father was a United States Senator with influence enough,
and money enough, to fight the law--to buy his son out of jail.
Sooner than his daughter should know that her father was one of those
who sometimes wore the mask of the Red Rider, Ranson, for all he
cared, could go to jail, or to hell. With this ultimatum in his mind,
Cahill confronted his would-be son-in-law with a calm and assured
countenance.

Ranson greeted him with respectful deference, and while Cahill seated
himself, Ranson, chatting hospitably, placed cigars and glasses
before him. He began upon the subject that touched him the most
nearly.

"Miss Cahill was good enough to bring up my breakfast this morning,"
he said. "Has she told you of what I said to her?"

Cahill shook his head. "No, I haven't seen her. We've been taking
account of stock all morning."

"Then--then you've heard nothing from her about me?" said Ranson.

The post trader raised his head in surprise. "No. Captain Carr spoke
to me about your arrest, and then said you wanted to see me first
about something private." The post trader fixed Ranson with his keen,
unwavering eyes. "What might that be?" he asked.