“Sane again, eh?” he grunted. “Well, you’ve shore been off yore nut a-plenty, pardner. Listen to me and get this straight. I’m goin’ out and round up my bronc. You’ve got a sweet case of smallpox, which means yo’re goin’ to be here mebbe a couple weeks. I can’t stay all that time; so I’m headin’ for Mesquite River to get yuh a doctor and a nurse. “Yuh take her easy while I get my horse. Mebbe I better tie yuh down, ’cause you might go wanderin’ around and die out in the desert. Anyway, yo’re all right for a while, and I’ll see yuh before I pull out. I’ll leave plenty water, such as it is, where yuh can reach it. But you’ve got to have plenty nursin’ and the right kinda food.” Red Cowan picked up his rope and went out, leaving the sheriff staring at the rafters, trying to force his mind to function properly. He didn’t want Red Cowan to leave him. He had never failed to bring in his man, and if Red Cowan ever left that ranch---- * * * * * His hand reached up weakly and drew the heavy Colt from the holster. It was fully loaded. The weight of it quickly tired his wrist, and he stared at his bloodless hand. The fever had sapped his strength badly, and he lay back wearily, cursing himself for a quitter. He was no match for Red Cowan now. Hadn’t Cowan said something about tying him down? The sheriff tried to sit up. If Red Cowan tied him down---- “Get up, you fool!” he told himself. “Yo’re all right. Are you goin’ to lie here and let a murderer escape? You are Duty Deming, sheriff of Calor!” With a superhuman effort he managed to swing around on the bunk and get his feet over the edge; but toppled back, where he lay breathing heavily, gripping the gun in his right hand. He could feel the fever coming back, but he would not let that stop him. It was now or never. No thought of the future--only the present. The law must be served. He managed to reach the doorway, where he went to his knees, blinking out at the sunlight. It dazzled his eyes, until the tears ran down his cheeks, and he dropped his head to one knee, covering his eyes with his arm. “No other gods before Me,” he muttered. “What did she mean? What would rise up and kill me?” His fumbling fingers tried to locate his star, not realizing that he wore nothing but his underclothes. He laughed foolishly in the crook of his elbow. His mind was clouding again. “I can’t die,” he told himself. “It’s my duty to live. I’ve got to live!” He got slowly to his feet, fighting hard. “They’ll hang him--hang Red Cowan. Eye for an eye. The law demands that. I’m the law of Calor, ain’t I? Don’t the law demand his life?” The sheriff sagged wearily, gripping the side of the door with his left hand. “I’m the law,” he muttered drunkenly. “I demand----” The fever cloud was enveloping him again, and the little blue devils with their sledges were beating on his brain, trying to batter him into insensibility.