Carr’s brow relaxed.  He was relieved to find that Ranson had awakened to the seriousness of the charges against him.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, encouragingly.

“Well, captain,” said Ranson, “if an officer is under arrest as I am and confined to his quarters, is he or is he not allowed to send to the club for a bottle of champagne?”

“Really, Ranson!” cried the captain, angrily, “you are impossible.”

“I only want to celebrate,” said Ranson, meekly.  “I’m a very happy man; I’m the happiest man on earth.  I want to ride across the prairie shooting off both guns and yelling like a cowboy.  Instead of which I am locked up indoors and have to talk to you about a highway robbery which does not amuse me, which does not concern me—­and of which I know nothing and care less.  Now, you are detailed to prove me innocent.  That’s your duty, and you ought to do your duty, But don’t drag me in.  I’ve got much more important things to think about.”

Bewilderment, rage, and despair were written upon the face of the captain.

“Ranson!” he roared.  “Is this a pose, or are you mad?  Can’t you understand that you came very near to being hanged for murder and that you are in great danger of going to jail for theft?  Let me put before you the extremely unpleasant position in which you have been ass enough to place yourself.  You don’t quite seem to grasp it.  You tell two brother-officers that you are going to rob the stage.  To do so you disguise yourself in a poncho and a red handkerchief, and you remove the army-stirrups from your stirrup-leathers.  You then do rob this coach, or at least hold it up, and you are recognized.  A few minutes later, in the same trail and in the same direction you have taken, there is a second hold-up, this time of the paymaster.  The man who robs the paymaster wears a poncho and a red kerchief, and he has no stirrups in his stirrup-leathers.  The two hold-ups take place within a half-mile of each other, within five minutes of each other.  Now, is it reasonable to believe that last night two men were hiding in the buttes intent upon robbery, each in an army poncho, each wearing a red bandanna handkerchief, and each riding without stirrups?  Between believing in such a strange coincidence and that you did it, I’ll be hanged if I don’t believe you did it.”

“I don’t blame you,” said Ranson.  “What can I do to set your mind at rest?”

“Well, tell me exactly what persons knew that you meant to hold up the stage.”

“Curtis and Crosby; no one else.”

“Not even Cahill?”

“No, Cahill came in just before I said I would stop the stage, but I remember particularly that before I spoke I waited for him to get back to the exchange.”

“And Crosby tells me,” continued Carr, “that the instant you had gone he looked into the exchange and saw Cahill at the farthest corner from the door.  He could have heard nothing.”