"Hot, an’ close," replied the marshal. "Well, I reckon I’ll be gettin’ along. Feels like rain is due ’most any time, though I don’t reckon we’ll get any before th’ moon changes. Still, you can’t allus tell." "Can’t tell nothin’ about it at all, this kind of weather," observed Hank, the can now against the other side of his body. "But one thing’s shore--it’s gettin’ closer every day. So-long," and the grotesque couple went bobbing down the track toward their own camp. Tex looked after them, humorously shaking his head. "’It’s gettin’ closer every day,’" he mimicked. "Shore it is. Pair of cunning old coyotes, an’ entirely too frank about Buffalo Creek." Just then Sinful leaped into the air, cracked his sore heels together and struck his companion across the shoulders. This display of exuberance awakened a strong suspicion in the marshal. "I’ll keep my eye on you two old codgers," he soliloquized, thoughtfully feeling of the handcuffs in his pocket. Wheeling abruptly he rode up to the station, where Jerry grinningly awaited him. "Let me know when those mossbacks go west, Jerry, if you see them," he requested. "They’re too cussed innocent an’ happy to suit me. How are things?" Jerry shook his head. "I’ll be cussed if I know. But I know one thing, and that is that I’m apologizing to you for the way Jane shut the door in your face. I don’t know what’s the matter with her lately." "There’s never any tellin’ about wimmin," said Tex, smiling. "An’ don’t you ever apologize to anybody for anythin’ she does. Wimmin see things from a different angle, an’ they ain’t got a man’s defenses. A difference in structure is likely to be accompanied by differences in nature, in this case notably in the more delicate balance of th’ nervous system. Their reactions are both more subtle an’ more extreme. I wasn’t insulted, but just folded my tents like th’ Arabs, an’ as silently stole away. Which I’m now goin’ to repeat. See you later, mebby." Jerry watched his visitor ride off and a puzzled frown crept over his face. "Wish I knew more about you, Mr. Tex Jones," he muttered. "You’re either as fine a human as I have seen, or the smoothest rascal: and I’m d--d if I can tell which." The marshal rode to his office and sought the chair outside the door, his thoughts running back over recent events. Blascom’s find and the physical condition of the man naturally brought to mind Jake’s narrow escape. The latter bothered him, notwithstanding the certainty that Blascom would keep a good watch over the sick man. While he anxiously ran over his scant knowledge of Jake’s illness and the remedies he had employed, he glanced up to see Doctor Horn nervously hurrying toward him. The doctor, in view of what he now knew of him, became a very interesting study for the marshal.