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“I didn’t understand from Captain Carr,” the post trader began in heavy tones, “that it’s my opinion you’re after. He said I might be wanted to testify who was present last night in my store.”

“Certainly, that’s all we want,” Ranson answered, genially. “I only thought you might give me a friendly pointer or two on the outside. And, of course, if it’s your opinion I did the deed we certainly don’t want your opinion. But that needn’t prevent your taking a drink with me, need it? Don’t be afraid. I’m not trying to corrupt you. And I’m not trying to poison a witness for the other fellows, either. Help yourself.”

Cahill stretched out his left hand. His right remained hidden in the side pocket of his coat. “What’s the matter with your right hand?” Ranson asked. “Are you holding a gun on me? Really, Mr. Cahill, you’re not taking any chances, are you?” Ranson gazed about the room as though seeking an appreciative audience. “He’s such an important witness,” he cried, delightedly, “that first he’s afraid I’ll poison him and he won’t drink with me, and now he covers me with a gun.”

Reluctantly, Cahill drew out his hand. “I was putting the bridle on my pony last night,” he said. “He bit me.”

Ranson exclaimed sympathetically, “Oh, that’s too bad,” he said. “Well, you know you want to be careful. A horse’s teeth really are poisonous.” He examined his own hands complacently. “Now, if I had a bandage like that on my right hand they would hang me sure, no matter whether it was a bite, or a burn, or a bullet.”

Cahill raised the glass to his lips and sipped the whiskey critically. “Why?” he asked.

“Why? Why, didn’t you know that the paymaster boasted last night to the surgeons that he hit this fellow in the hand? He says–“

Cahill snorted scornfully. “How’d he know that? What makes him think so?”

“Well, never mind, let him think so,” Ranson answered, fervently. “Don’t discourage him. That’s the only evidence I’ve got on my side. He says he fired to disarm the man, and that he saw him shift his gun to his left hand. It was the shot that the man fired when he held his gun in his left that broke the colonel’s arm. Now, everybody knows I can’t hit a barn with my left. And as for having any wounds concealed about my person”–Ranson turned his hands like a conjurer to show the front and back–“they can search me. So, if the paymaster will only stick to that story–that he hit the man–it will help me a lot.” Ranson seated himself on the table and swung his leg. “And of course it would be a big help, too, if you could remember who was in your Exchange when I was planning to rob the coach. For someone certainly must have overheard me, someone must have copied my disguise, and that someone is the man we must find. Unless he came from Kiowa.”

Cahill shoved his glass from him across the table and, placing his hands on his knees, stared at his host coldly and defiantly. His would-be son-in-law observed the aggressiveness of his attitude, but, in his fuller knowledge of their prospective relations, smiled blandly.

“Mr. Ranson,” began Cahill, “I’ve no feelings against you personally. I’ve a friendly feeling for all of you young gentlemen at my mess. But you’re not playing fair with me. I can see what you want, and I can tell you that you and Captain Carr are not helping your case by asking me up here to drink and smoke with you, when you know that I’m the most important witness they’ve got against you.”

Ranson stared at his father-in-law-elect in genuine amazement, and then laughed lightly.

“Why, dear Mr. Cahill,” he cried, “I wouldn’t think of bribing you with such a bad brand of whiskey as this. And I didn’t know you were such an important witness as all that. But, of course, I know whatever you say in this community goes, and if your testimony is against me, I’m sorry for it, very sorry. I suppose you will testify that there was no one in the Exchange who could have heard my plan?”