ONE JUMP AHEAD By Ray Humphreys Author of “Not of the Card,” etc. That morning, bright and early, Manuel Perez was at the sheriff’s office. He was there so early, in fact, that he found the office locked and he had to wait around outside until he saw Sheriff Joe Cook and “Shorty” McKay, the deputy, coming up the walk. Then Manuel hobbled forward as quickly as he could manage with his wooden leg. There was a smile on his face and his right hand was extended as he neared the two approaching officers. “Ah--señors!” he exclaimed cordially. “Why, hullo thar, Perez!” said Sheriff Cook warmly, taking the Mexican’s proffered hand. “Glad to see yuh. Ah--er--when did yuh git back? Out on parole, I suppose?” “That ees eet--parole!” announced Perez, shaking hands with Shorty. “I git back early dees mawnin’. Eet ees long time since I be here, eh, señors? Eet ees long time I be in eet--de beeg house, what yuh call heem! One, two, tree years--but now de parole he come an’ I be back! But----” The smiling Perez shrugged his shoulders. “I have no de dinero--de money!” No cow--no bla-bla sheep; de place eet fall to eet’s ruin! When I go away to de beeg house yuh say mebbe should I straighten up, yuh say, when I come out yuh really help me, sheriff--so I come!” The sheriff’s eyes traveled swiftly over Manuel Perez. The Mexican, bad as he was, had always been pitied by the sheriff. Perhaps it was because Perez had one leg off just below the knee. He hobbled around on a “peg.” The sheriff had sympathy for any such unfortunate, even if he was a convicted rustler. Looking at him now, Sheriff Cook saw the marks of the penitentiary on his care-lined face and his lack-luster eyes; Perez had aged in the three years he had been in prison. He wore a prison shirt now, and a pair of coarse, prison trousers, “Come in the office, Perez,” invited Sheriff Cook, “I guess me an’ Shorty mebbe kin figger some way o’ helpin’ yuh out. I guess the best thing to do is to try to git yuh a job.” “_Si, señor!_” agreed Perez, hopefully. “Perez,” said the sheriff, after the trio had entered the office, “yuh got off light when yuh drawed five to seven years. I know yuh’d been rustlin’ calves for a long time, although we couldn’t prove but the one case on yuh. I suppose yuh’re through with that fer all time, eh?” “_Si!_” “I hope so!” said the sheriff. “I’ll ring up Earl Wettengel an’ see ef he kain’t put yuh on as a sheep-herder out to his place until we mebbe kin find something better. Ef Earl ain’t got nuthin’ open I’ll call Art Wachter an’ ask him to give yuh a job, Perez. Me an’ Shorty ain’t such hard hombres, Perez, as yuh know. It was our duty to see yuh got punished for rustlin’, but now that yuh’re out on parole we’re more’n ready to help yuh beat back ef yuh’ll jus stay on th’ square.” “I swear eet!” said Perez hastily. “How long yuh been out, Perez? asked Shorty, as the sheriff reached for the telephone directory.