Kent Carson heard this with deep relief. He went to the bedside of the girl and knelt down there.
“Blanche,” he whispered, huskily, “can you forgive your old dad for treating you as he has? You are my own girl—my little Blanche—no matter what you have done.”
“Father!” she whispered, in return, “I am glad you have come to me at last. But you know you are ashamed of me—you can never forget what I have done.”
“I can forget now,” he declared, thinking of the man under the quicksands of Big Sandy. “You are my daughter. I am not ashamed of you. You shall never again have cause for saying that of me.”
“Kiss me, papa!” she murmured.
Sobbing brokenly, he pressed his lips to her cheeks.
And when he was gone from the room she took a photograph from beneath her pillow and gazed at it long and lovingly.
She knew not that the man had been swallowed beneath the quicksands of the Big Sandy.
The tragic occurrences of the night hastened the departure of Frank and his friends from Twin Star Ranch, although Kent Carson urged them to remain. Frank had, however, finished his play, which, thanks to the prompt act of Ephraim, had been only slightly injured by its fiery experience, and was anxious to put it in rehearsal.