Ranson glanced down at the written confession, and then tore it
slowly into pieces. "And you were sure I robbed the stage, and yet
you believed that I'd use this? What sort of a son-in-law do you
think you've got?"

"You thought _I_ robbed the stage, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And you were going to stand for robbing it yourself, weren't you?
Well, that's the sort of son-in-law I've got!"

The two men held out their hands at the same instant.

Mary Cahill, her face glowing with pride and besieged with blushes,
came toward them from the veranda. She was laughing and radiant, but
she turned her eyes on Ranson with a look of tender reproach.

"Why did you desert me?" she said. "It was awful. They are calling
you now. They are playing 'The Conquering Hero.'"

"Mr. Cahill," commanded Ranson, "go out there and make a speech." He
turned to Mary Cahill and lifted one of her hands in both of his.
"Well, I AM the conquering hero," he said. "I've won the only thing
worth winning, dearest," he whispered; "we'll run away from them in a
minute, and we'll ride to the waterfall and the Lover's Leap." He
looked down at her wistfully. "Do you remember?"

Mary Cahill raised her head and smiled. He leaned toward her