“What, after midnight?”
“Yes. It is hardly necessary to explain what happened. Here I am!”
“Ah, my friend,” said the professor, “this may be fortunate for you, if it leads you to consider and reflect upon the errors of your life.”
“Oh, stow that!” exclaimed Ranney, in disgust. “I'm not that kind of a man. I follow my own course and take the consequences.”
The professor shook his head sadly and went out. Later, when he heard what had happened, he said to Walter: “If that man had come into my room at midnight I should have died of fright.”
“There was no occasion to be alarmed,” returned Walter, “We were prepared for him.”
“I—I am afraid I was never cut out for a hero,” said the professor. “My nervous system is easily upset.”
The plain truth was that Professor Robinson was a born coward, though he was stronger and more muscular, probably, than Grant, Sherman or Sheridan. But it is not brawn and muscle that make a hero, but the spirit that animates the man, and of this spirit the professor had very little. Yet in after years when he had retired from business and was at leisure to live over again his past life, he used to tell with thrilling effect how he and Walter had trapped and captured the daring outlaw, Dick Ranney, and received admiring compliments upon his courage and prowess, which he complacently accepted, though he knew how little he deserved them.
It so chanced that Stilwell was the county seat and court was in session at that time, and nearly ready to wind up its business. It was owing to this circumstance that the trial of Dick Ranney was held at once. By request Walter and the professor remained to bear testimony against the prisoner, and Manning also strengthened the case against him. Within less than a week the trial was concluded, a verdict of guilty was brought in, and the prisoner sentenced to a ten years' term of imprisonment.
Dick Ranney heard the sentence with philosophical calmness.