“Well, I--Henry, you do not intend going into Lobo Canyon at this ungodly hour --or do you?” “I do, my dear deputy--and you will be at my side--except where we are obliged to ride single-file. Stop moaning, and dress.” “I wish I could contact Doctor Bogart about this,” whispered Judge. “He would know what to do about it.” “I suppose we should take rifles along,” muttered Henry, yanking at his boot. “Rifles?” Judge sat on the edge of the bed and stared at Henry. “Why--uh--the man is dead, isn’t he, Henry?” “Get dressed,” said Henry. “It is almost daylight.” “What you need is a sedative, sir,” declared Judge. “What I need is a deputy, I’m afraid.” Judge grabbed a boot and glared at Henry. “Indeed? Until you fall on your head--I am satisfactory. Do not blame _me_, Henry--you do not realize your condition.” Henry selected an old, leather coat and drew it on, saying, “I’d advise that you wear a leather jacket, Judge--that brush tears cloth badly. I’ll meet you at the office--with the horses. Do not keep me waiting, my boy.” “You have your boots on the wrong feet, Henry.” “I have not, sir; I am toeing-out--to keep my balance. It has been a hard night.” Henry walked out and shut the door. Judge stared at the boot in his hand for several moments, before putting it on. He said aloud, “The man is as mad as a hatter--and I must humor him.” Then he donned the rest of his clothes and left the hotel. * * * * * It was about nine o’clock when Oscar, Slim and Frijole came down to breakfast. They were all limping, more or less. They found James Wadsworth Longfellow in the restaurant. He flinched, but did not speak. The three were subdued, having little to say. Doctor Bogart came in and asked them if they had seen Henry or Judge. He had been up to their room, but they were not in, nor were they at the sheriff’s office. “Henry hit on his head,” said Slim soberly, “and Judge ain’t too intelligent to wander off with him.” “You boys don’t look too good this morning,” remarked the doctor. “Pers’nally, Doc,” said Frijole flexing a sore shoulder, “I think I’m in the sere and yaller leaf, as yuh might say. I ain’t as flexible as I was last night, I know that much. Slim slept on the floor. He said that the bed was too soft, after what he’d been through. Sa-a-ay!” Frijole’s eyebrows lifted suddenly. “Yuh don’t suppose them two old galoots have gone into Lobo Canyon, do yuh, Doc?” “That’s possible, Frijole. Better see if their horses are gone.” They finished their breakfast first. The horses and saddles were not in the stable. “Looks at it thisaway, fellers,” said Slim soberly. “Them two galoots ain’t got no more right in Lobo Canyon than David had in the lion’s den. That’s one awful tough spot. I’ve been there and I know. What’s to be done about ’em?”