He slapped a big palm against his holster and halted in the middle of the floor. “Love of gosh!” exclaimed Harp. “It’s little Lord Fauntleroy! Welcome home.” The big man started toward Harp, but Brick slid between them and he halted. “You danged cow-town comedians can’t bust up my office,” declared Brick. “Set down, ‘Silent’—you runt.” Silent Slade flapped his big arms dismally and sank down in the nearest chair. “I seen them three deuces walk out of here; so I come over to see what the rest of the deck was doin’,” said Silent. “I can smell trouble when I see them three pelicans together.” “Brick’s so danged dumb that they has to come over here every week to remind him he’s the sheriff,” offered Harp seriously. “Ought to pin his star on the wall,” observed Silent. “Might nail her to the door, so every time he comes up to the place he’ll know what he’s comin’ here for.” But Brick did not take offense at their jokes. They knew that Brick was capable, honest, and was doing everything in his power to keep the peace of Sun Dog County. Silent Slade worked for the Nine-Bar-Nine cattle outfit, located about twelve miles southeast of Marlin City, where Brick had been foreman before he had been elected sheriff. Harp Harris had also been one of the Nine-Bar-Nine cowpunchers. Old Lafe Freeman, owner of the Nine-Bar-Nine, had sworn to high heaven that the gods were against him when he lost Brick and Harp. Old Lafe was a little, old, grizzled cow-man; one of the fast-disappearing type of old-timers, who had carved out a niche in cowland with the combination of a six-shooter and square-dealing. After an appreciable period of silence, the big Nine-Bar-Nine cowboy yawned widely and audibly. “Didja ever try sleep for that?” queried Harp. “That has all the earmarks of a jest,” observed Silent. “Some day I’m goin’ to date time from the minute yuh made me laugh.” Silent turned to Brick, opened his mouth to capacity and yelled loud enough to shake the windows— “How in —— are yuh?” “Kinda downcast,” replied Brick softly. “Uh-huh. Yuh ought to be. Say, old Lafe’s been down to Silverton—kinda ridin’ around—and he says it don’t look a —— of a lot like you was goin’ to be reelected, Brick.” “Thasso?” Brick showed interest. It was nearing the first of October, and in November the primary election would be held. “Dang right, it’s so,” nodded Silent. “Lafe says that you ain’t noways as popular as yuh was a few weeks ago.” “What have I done?” queried Brick, grinning. “Well,” Silent grinned widely, “they seem to think yuh ain’t done nothin’. I s’pose them three high-and-mighties were over here to kinda invigorate yuh, wasn’t they?” Brick nodded. He realized now that these robberies were happening at a very inopportune time for him. The Sun Dog voters were very likely to judge him on present showings instead of on his past records; and the sheriff’s office was the one big issue in cow-land politics.