"That _you_ shot off! What were you shooting at?" "Well," said Jim, with a humorous chuckle, "I guess perhaps it was this gentleman." "Why did you wish to murder _me_?" asked Stranleigh, with pardonable concern. "Murder you, sir? Why, I didn't try to murder you. I could have winged you a dozen times while you were riding down to the house, if I'd wanted to. Where were you hit?" "In the left shoulder." "Then that's all right. That's what I aimed to do. I just set out to nip you, and scare you back where you came from." "But why?" insisted the perplexed Stranleigh. "You came along with a posse behind you, and I thought you were the sheriff, but I wouldn't kill even a sheriff unless I had to. I'm the peaceablest man on earth, as Miss Armstrong there will tell you." "If that's your idea of peace," said Stranleigh, puzzled, "I hope next time I'll fall among warlike people." Jim grinned. It was Miss Armstrong who spoke, and, it seemed to Stranleigh, with unexpected mildness, considering she knew so much of the Eastern States and Europe. "I understand," she said, "but next time, Jim, it will be as well merely to fire the gun, without hitting anybody." "Oh," explained Jim, in an off-hand manner, "our folk don't pay any attention to the like of that. You've got to show them you mean business. If this gentleman had come on, the next shot would have hit him where it would hurt, but seeing he was peaceable minded, he was safe as in a church." "Is the baggage where he left it?" "Certainly, Ma'am; do you wish it brought here?" "Yes; I do." "All right, Ma'am; I'll see to that. It's all a little mistake, sir," he said amiably, as he turned to Stranleigh. "Accidents will happen in the best regulated family, as the saying goes," and with a flourish of the hat he departed. Miss Armstrong rose as if to leave the verandah. As she did so Stranleigh said in a tone of mild reproach: "I confess I am puzzled." "So am I," replied the girl, brightly. "I'm puzzled to know what I can offer you in the way of books. Our stock is rather limited." "I don't want to read, Miss Armstrong, but I do want to know why there is such a prejudice here against a sheriff. In the land I came from a sheriff is not only regarded with great respect, but even with veneration. He rides about in a gilded coach, and wears magnificent robes, decorated with gold lace. I believe that he develops ultimately into a Lord Mayor, just as a grub, if one may call so glorious a personage as a sheriff a grub, ultimately becomes a butterfly. We'd never think of shooting a sheriff. Why, then, do you pot at sheriffs, and hit innocent people, out here?" The girl laughed. "I saw the Lord Mayor of London once in his carriage, and behind it were two most magnificent persons. Were they sheriffs?" "Oh, dear no; they were merely flunkeys."