"The men who enforce the law are," said Vance. The sheriff absorbed this patent compliment with the blank eye of satisfaction and rubbed his chin. "But they's been some talk of rustling, pretty recent. I'm waiting for it to grow and get ripe. Then I'll bust it." He made an eloquent gesture which Vance followed. He was distinctly pleased with the sheriff. For Minter was wonderfully preserved. His face seemed five years younger than his age. His body seemed even younger-- round, smooth, powerful muscles padding his shoulders and stirring down the length of his big arms. And his hands had that peculiar light restlessness of touch which Vance remembered to have seen--in the hands of Terence Colby, alias Hollis! "And how's things up your way?" continued the sheriff. "Booming. By the way, how long is it since you've seen the ranch?" "Never been there. Bear Creek Valley has always been a quiet place since the Cornishes moved in; and they ain't been any call for a gent in my line of business up that way." He grinned with satisfaction, and Vance nodded. "If times are dull, why not drop over? We're having a celebration there in five days. Come and look us over." "Maybe I might, and maybe I mightn't," said the sheriff. "All depends." "And bring some friends with you," insisted Vance. Then he wisely let the subject drop and went on to a detailed description of the game in the hills around the ranch. That, he knew, would bring the sheriff if anything would. But he mentioned the invitation no more. There were particular reasons why he must not press it on the sheriff any more than on others in Craterville. The next morning, before traintime, Vance went to the post office and left the article on Black Jack addressed to Terence Colby at the Cornish ranch. The addressing was done on a typewriter, which completely removed any means of identifying the sender. Vance played with Providence in only one way. He was so eager to strike his blow at the last possible moment that he asked the postmaster to hold the letter for three days, which would land it at the ranch on the morning of the birthday. Then he went to the train. His self-respect was increasing by leaps and bounds. The game was still not won, but, starring with absolutely nothing, in six days he had planted a charge which might send Elizabeth's twenty-four years of labor up in smoke. He got off the train at Preston, the station nearest the ranch, and took a hired team up the road along Bear Creek Gorge. They debouched out of the Blue Mountains into the valley of the ranch in the early evening, and Vance found himself looking with new eyes on the little kingdom. He felt the happiness, indeed, of one who has lost a great prize and then put himself in a fair way of winning it back.