“Well,” sighed Judge, “I was about to indicate that I did not relish the reading of the editorial by the Commissioners. Damme, they didn’t have to read it aloud to us! We had read it. It is deplorable that a chuckleheaded nincompoop like James Wadsworth Longfellow Pelly can influence public opinion. He suggests that we resign at once. And damme, that Board of Commissioners agreed with him. In fact, they--well, were you going to say something?” “No,” replied Henry calmly, “I merely opened my mouth for air.” “Well, do you not resent the attitude of the three Commissioners, Henry? Are you a man or a mouse, sir?” “Biology,” sighed Henry, “is in my favor; I have but two legs.” “Will you please hand me that book?” asked Judge. “I hate to ask it, but my damn legs are so cramped that I would never be able to regain this position again. Thank you, sir--you are kind.” * * * * * Judging from appearances there was little wonder that the Scorpion Bend _Clarion_ called these two men, plus Oscar Johnson, their jailer, the Shame of Arizona. Oscar was a giant Swede of tremendous strength, but low IQ. When vaudeville waned and faded from American stages, Henry Harrison Conroy, like thousands of other vaudevillians, was out of work. An uncle, whom he had never heard about before, died in Wild Horse Valley, leaving Henry as sole owner of the JHC cattle ranch. Henry knew nothing about the cattle country, but he accepted his inheritance, came to Tonto City, wearing tailored clothes, spats, pearl-colored derby hat, and twirling a gold-headed cane. Arizona loved Henry at once. His courtly manner, sense of ridiculous humor, and enormous thirst intrigued them. He took over the JHC, much to their delight, and really went Arizona himself. Shortly after he became acclimated an election came along, and, as a good joke, the cowboys got together and wrote Henry’s name on their ballots. The next morning he found that he was sheriff of Wild Horse County. A cowboy summed it up in his statement that, “We’ve shore played a joke on this county.” Henry saw the humor of the situation clearly. In Tonto City lived Judge Van Treece, who had never been a judge, but a really fine attorney, until an insatiable thirst made him a derelict. Henry, as a humorous gesture, and also because he liked Judge, appointed Judge as his deputy. And as an extra gesture, he appointed Oscar Johnson, a horse-wrangler, as jailer. It completed as queer a trio of peace officers as any county ever had. Men laughed and made fun of them, but, as a matter of fact, they had managed to keep crime at a rather low ebb in Wild Horse Valley, until now, when things were getting out of hand, due to an influx of rather unsavory characters, lured by new gold strikes.