“We’ll be here about fifteen minutes. That ought to give you time enough to get something to eat. Restaurant’s right back of the station.” Bob estimated that Ainsworth must be a village of some two hundred souls and he was dubious about the quality of the food which he would obtain, but when he stepped inside the eating house he was agreeably surprised by the cleanliness and an elderly woman took his order with pleasing promptness. Bob took a cold cereal, and ate it with relish while eggs and bacon sputtered on a stove in the kitchen. When they were ready he ordered coffee and several doughnuts. “Don’t need to hurry too much, they won’t go away without you,” reassured the woman who waited on him. But Bob finished in ample time to enjoy a leisurely walk back to the train. When he reentered the day coach he was surprised to find another occupant, a large, heavy-boned man with a faded mustache and thinning hair. What surprised Bob even more was to see a badge on the other’s vest and he strolled forward through the car. His eyes opened a little wider when he saw that the badge worn by the other said, “Sheriff.” The water cooler was a convenient place to stop and Bob, studying the other man in leisure, drank two cups of water. Suddenly the sheriff spoke. “Now that you’ve about sized me up, what’s on your mind, Bud?” Bob almost fell over backwards for he had tried to make his observation of the other man altogether casual. “Nothing,” he managed to reply, but the word failed to carry conviction. “Not trying to dodge the law, are you?” asked the sheriff, and Bob noticed that a perfectly capable looking gun was holstered under the other’s right shoulder. “No,” said Bob. “Then why are you carrying a gun?” Bob started, almost guiltily, and his face flushed. “That,” he retorted, “is none of your business.” After the words were out he could almost have bitten his tongue in two for if the sheriff pressed him for an answer, he would be forced to reveal his identity and such things as local sheriffs being involved in crime was not altogether unknown. “I’m making it my business right now,” snapped the older man and before Bob could move, a gun appeared in the other’s hands. “Put up your hands and turn around. Do it slowly and you won’t be hurt, but if you make one false move, I’ll let you have it.” Chapter XXVII SHERIFF McCURDY TALKS ★ There was nothing else for Bob to do and with his hands raised high above his head, he turned slowly and faced the water cooler. He could imagine how Tully Ross would have chuckled if he could have seen his predicament now. Firm hands whisked the gun out of the shoulder holster and Bob heard the sheriff step back. “Turn around slowly now, but keep your hands up.” Bob obeyed the command and the sheriff waved him toward a seat on the opposite side of the car.