The sheriff appeared on the scene and took in the goings on at a glance. Like a man who knowed his business, his eyes went to looking for what might of caused the argument as he came. He looked at the old horse whose frame showed thru the hide, then the whip marks on that hide. He knowed horses as well as he did men, and when he noticed more marks of the same whip on the bewhiskered man's face, he stood his ground, watched, and then grinned. "Say, cowboy," he finally says, "don't skatter that hombre's remains too much, you know we got to keep record of that kind the same as if it was a white man, and I don't want to be looking all over the streets to find out who he was." Clint turned at the sound of the voice, and sizing up the grinning sheriff, went back to his victim and broke the butt end of the whip over his head, after which he wiped his hands, and proceeded to unhook the old horse off the wagon. That evening was spent in "investigating." Clint and the sheriff went to the chicken-horse man and found out enough from him about the vegetable man and his way of treating horses to put that hombre in a cool place and keep him there for a spell. "I'm glad to've caught on to that feller's doings," remarks the sheriff as him and Clint went to the livery stable, their next place of investigation. There Clint listened mighty close as he learned a heap about the mouse colored horse when he was known as Cloudy. The stable man went on to tell as far as he knowed about the horse and the whole history of him, and when that pony was known thru the Southwest and many other places, as _The Cougar_, the wickedest bucking horse and fighting outlaw the country had ever layed eyes on. Clint was kinda proud in hearing that. He'd heard of The Cougar and that pony's bucking ability even up to the Canadian line and acrost it, and to himself he says: "That Smoky horse never did do things halfways." But he got to wondering, and then asked how come the pony had turned out to be the kind of a horse, that, the stable man didn't know. It was news to him that the horse had ever been anything else, and as he says: "The first that was seen of that horse is when some cowboys found him on the desert, amongst a bunch of wild horses, and packing a saddle. Nobody had ever showed up to claim him, and as that pony had been more than inclined to buck and fight is how come he was sold as a bucking horse--and believe me, old timer," went on the stable man, a shaking his head, "he was _some_ bucking horse." "Well," says the sheriff, "that's another clue run to the ground with nothing left of, but the remains." That night, the big engine was hooked on to the train-load of cattle as to per schedule and started puffing its way on to the north. In the last car, the one next to the cabbose, and the least crowded, a space had been partitioned off. In that space was a bale of good hay, a barrel of water, and an old mouse colored horse. * * * * *