Leach snorted and started to say something, but evidently changed his mind. A man was riding in on a pinto horse and Barney called Brick’s attention to him. “That’s Mostano, Brick.” The rider was of medium height, rather heavy, sitting humped in his saddle, his face completely shaded by a wide sombrero. He rode around the corner of the cookshack, heading toward the commissary building. Brick stopped and looked back. “I reckon I’ll go back there, Barney,” he said. “I’d kinda like to get a look at Mostano.” Brick started back and Barney went with him. They stopped at the corner of the building, where they could hear the men talking. It was evident that an argument had started, in which Hank and Leach had joined. “It’s none of my business,” said Fields, “but it’s the law. You’ve got to have the hide of the animal, Mostano. I didn’t know it until the sheriff told me about it today.” “Aw, to —— with the sheriff!” Thus Sam Leach. “Let’s all have a drink. Fields, I want you to meet Hank Stagg. Hank is our next sheriff.” Fields grunted an acknowledgment. “Why do I bring hides?” queried Mostano. “My meat is good.” “I’m not kicking about the meat,” replied Fields. “I’m just telling you—” “Nobody pays any attention to that law,” interrupted Leach. “It’s a law all right, but what the ——? We’ve got too many laws.” “Hides make big load,” complained Mostano. “I have to pack one more horse. Too much work.” “That’s right,” agreed Leach. “Here, have a drink, Fields. That ——ed sheriff is too officious. Wait until Hank is elected.” There was silence while the bottle was being passed, and then Mostano’s voice grew a trifle more belligerent. “I no like to pack hides.” “All right,” grunted Fields. “Take a chance, if you want to. You never know when the sheriff is going to pop up on you. It’s your funeral—not mine.” “He don’t come out here very often, does he?” asked Leach. “I never met him until today. I may not be any judge of human nature, but I don’t want him catchin’ me breaking the law.” “Aw, he ain’t so much,” said Hank thickly. “You better take your sheriff prospect and put him to bed,” observed Fields, laughing. “He’s buckling at the knees.” “I no bring hides,” declared Mostano. Brick touched Barney on the arm and they walked back to the office. Brick was very thoughtful over what he had heard. “That’s what whisky does,” said Barney. “Fields was all right, until he got that drink.” “Don’t worry about him,” smiled Brick. “He’s just human. We’d all say the same thing, if we were in his place. Hank and Leach have the idea that whisky and cigars will bring votes. Maybe it would, if they could vote ’em right at the time. Well, I’ve got to be driftin’, Barney. Don’t say anythin’ to Fields.” “It won’t get him into trouble, will it, Brick?” “No-o-o. Maybe it’s better that way. So-long.” * * * * *