A squat-bodied man with bat ears appeared on the threshold. As at a signal, the three men playing with the sheriff flung themselves down on the floor. The hand of the squat-bodied man shot up and forward. A revolver cracked twice, and the Sheriff of Sunset County quietly crumpled across the card-table. Through the swirling smoke of the discharge two red streaks flashed as the six-shooters of Loudon and Laguerre barked in unison. The squat-bodied man fell forward on his face. Head and shoulders on the floor of the saloon, his legs on the sidewalk, he lay motionless. Side by side, the souls of the sheriff and his murderer sped homeward. The habitués of the Happy Heart unhurriedly deserted their points of vantage against the wall, on the floor, or behind the bar, and gathered about the corpse of the squat-bodied man. They gazed upon the body for a brief space of time, then, one by one, they stepped carefully over it and departed. "Gents," squeaked the perturbed bartender, "would yuh mind goin' out in the street? I--I'm goin' to close up." "It's only the mornin'," said Loudon. "Why close up?" "I'm sick. I got indigestion right bad," the bartender explained. Indeed, the bartender looked quite ill. His complexion had turned a pasty yellow and his teeth were clicking together. "Yuh look right bad," agreed Loudon. "But yo're mistaken about closin' up. Yo're a-goin' to keep open. Telescope, let's get the sheriff spread out right." They pushed two tables together. Then they lifted the sheriff's body and laid it on the tables. They unbuckled the spurs, straightened the limbs, covered the still face with the neck handkerchief, and put the hat over the gaping wound in the chest where the bullets had come out. When they had done all that they could they needed a drink. The shivering bartender served them. "For Gawd's sake, gents!" he pleaded. "Block'll be here in a minute! Go out in the street, won't yuh?" "'Block'll be here,'" repeated Loudon. "How do yuh know he'll be here?" The bartender began to stutter. His complexion became yellower. Loudon turned to Laguerre. "Talks funny, don't he?" he observed. "Can't say nothin' but 'I.'" Reaching across the bar, he seized the bartender by the shoulder. "Say, fellah," he continued, "how do yuh know so much about Block?" "I--I--I----" sputtered the bartender. "I thought Block had left town. How do yuh know he's back?" The bartender changed his tune. "Ow! Ow!" he yelled. "Yo're hurtin' me! My shoulder! Ow!" "I'll hurt yuh worse if yuh don't spit out what yuh know about Block an' his doin's." "He--he--oh, I can't! I can't!" wailed the bartender. "Block shore has you an' the rest o' these prairie-dogs buffaloed. I just guess yes. Well, yuh needn't tell me. I'm a pretty good guesser myself. Telescope, let's you'n me go call on Block."