I didn't leave him. I recollected what happened that time he captured "Cud" and Andy Foster and brung 'em into town, his hat shot off and his left arm a-hangin' floppy agin his laig. Y' see, next day, a bunch of ladies--_ole_ ladies, they was, too,--tried to find him and give him a vote of thanks. But when he seen 'em comin', he swore in a deputy--_quick_--and vamosed. Day 'r two afterwards, here he come outen that cellar back of Dutchy's thirst-parlour, his left arm in a red bandaner, a rockin'-chair and a pilla under his right one, and a lantern in his teeth! But _this_ time, he wasn't a-goin' to _have_ no deputy. I made up my mind to stay right byside him till he'd did his duty. Yas, ma'am. "Cupid," he begun again, reachin' fer my fist, "Cupid, when it comes to feemales----" _Too-oo-oot! too-oo-oot!_ Couldn't make him hear, so I just slapped him on the shoulder. Then I hauled him up, and we went down the platform to where the crowd was. When the train slowed down, the first thing I seen was the conductor with a kid in his arms,--a cute kid, about four, I reckon,--a boy. Then the cars stopped, and I seen a woman standin' just behind them. Next, they was all out on to the platform, and the woman was holdin' the kid by one hand. The woman was cute, too. Mebbe thirty, mebbe less, light-complected, yalla-haired, kinda plump, and about so high. Not pretty like Mace 'r Carlota Arnaz, but _mighty_ good t' look at. Blabbed calf? Say! this was _awful!_ "Ber-r-gin!" hollers the corn-doc. "Bergin," I repeats, encouragin'. (Hope I never see a man look worse. He was all blue and green!) Bergin, he just kinda staggered up. He'd had _one_ look, y' savvy. Wal, he didn't look no more. Pulled off his Stetson, though. Then he smoothed the cow-lick over his one eye, and sorta studied the kid. "Sheriff," goes on the corn-doc, "here's a lady that has been _con_signed to you' care. Good-bye, ma'am, it's been a pleasure to look out fer you. Good-bye, little feller," (this to the kid). "Aw-aw-awl abroad!" As Number 201 pulled out, you can bet you' little Cupid helt on to that sheriff! "Bergin," I says, under my breath, "fer heaven's sake, remember you' oath of office! And, _boys,_" (they was about a dozen cow-punchers behind us, a-smilin' at Mrs. Bridger so hard that they plumb laid they faces open) "you'll have us all shoved on to the tracks in a minute!" It was the kid that helped out. He'd been lookin' up at Bergin ever since he hit the station. Now, all to oncet, he reached towards the sheriff with both his little hands--as friendly as if he'd knowed him all his life.