"I may be only messing things up more than they are already," he thought dejectedly as they approached Sagehen Roost. "What under the sun led me to think I was equal to such a job, anyway?" Then, suddenly, his eyes narrowed, his chin raised itself determinedly and he turned his attention to the half-way house and the loquacious Hank. How could he ever get past Hank and remain Leslie Jones in the sheriff's eyes? If only he could get a moment's speech with Hank alone. But the sheriff was ever at his elbow. They had made good time from Meeteetse, and so approached Dry Creek and Sagehen Roost a full hour ahead of the stage from Cody. This fact gave Ross courage. With the stage-driver eliminated he had only Hank to deal with. "Hello, Hank!" shouted the sheriff as they dismounted in front of the corral. "Shake us up some grub right away, will ye?" Hank appeared at the door. Ross dodged behind the sheriff's horse, and stooping over noted the approach of Hank's legs. When they had borne their owner to the corral gate he straightened up and saying loudly: "Hello, Hank!" scratched the flank of the horse sharply with a pin he had found under the lapel of his coat. "Wall, if there ain't Doc Tenderfoot!" shouted Hank, but got no further. The horse leaped forward, and, as the sheriff sprang for its head, Ross managed to get Hank's ear for an instant: "Don't give me away, Hank. Talk to him and let me alone--understand--no names called. Don't talk to me nor about me." Hank stared his amazement, helped the sheriff catch his mount, scratched his head until Ross's words had soaked in, and then obeyed them so literally that when, half an hour later, Ross leaped to his horse's back, he was still Leslie Jones to the taciturn sheriff, and Hank, tongue-tied for once, was left standing beside the corral gate with a multitude of questions unasked. Ross's spirits arose. They were on the home stretch now to Cody. There was not a house on the way and only the stage to meet. Ross, forgetting his role as a shamefaced prisoner, began to whistle and plan what he should say to Leslie's father. His buoyancy was checked only when he chanced to look over his shoulder and discovered the sheriff looking at him not only with the puzzled air which he had worn at Meeteetse, but, Ross thought, with suspicion also. "I never seen a sober man arrested that took arrest as you do," the sheriff declared riding to Ross's side. "Think this is a little picnic, don't ye?" "I'm trying to think just how it will turn out," answered the boy seriously. "There's the Cody stage, isn't it?" The sheriff reined his horse back, and, with a flourish, the four horses swept past with Andy's foot jammed hard on the brake and Andy's whip cracking over the wheelers' heads. Just in the nick of time he recognized Ross. "Hi, there!" he shouted. "Doc, where's yer patient? And how is he?"