"I hear there’s some talk about them makin’ you marshal of this town," said Tim. "Don’t you shelve it. This town needs a fair man in that job. It’s been quiet of late, but ye can’t allus tell. Wait till th’ rains come an’ start th’ placerin’ a-goin’. They’ll have money to spend, then, an’ trouble is shore to follow that. You take that job, Tex." Jerry nodded eagerly, pointed to some bullet holes in the frame of one of the windows of the office and, grasping Tex by the arm, led him closer to the window. "See that bullet hole in there, just over the table an’ below the calendar? The first shot startled me and made me drop my pen--I stooped to pick it up. When I sat up again there was a hole in the glass and under the calendar. When I stooped I saved my life. Just a drunken joke, a miner feeling his oats. One dead man a week was under the average. This town, under normal conditions, is a little bit out of h--l. Take that job, Jones: the town needs you." Tex laughed. "You better wait till it’s offered to me, Jerry. There’s quite some people in this town that don’t want any marshal. Gus Williams is the man to start it." "He will," declared Tim. "Bud was his bodyguard, but he was more. Williams has a lot of property to be protected, an’ now Bud is gone, th’ saints be praised. He’ll start it." While they spoke, a miner was seen striding toward the station and soon joined them. "How’d’y," he said, carelessly, glancing coldly at Tim and Jerry. His eyes rested on Tex and glowed a little. "Th’ boss wants to talk with you, Jones. Come a-runnin’." "Come a-runnin’," rang in Tex’s ears and it did not please him. If he was going to be the city marshal it would be well to start off right. "Th’ boss?" he asked nonplused. "Shore; Gus--Gus Williams," rejoined the messenger crisply and with a little irritation. "You know who I mean. Git a move on." "Mr. Jones’ compliments to Mr. Williams," replied Tex with exaggerated formality, "an’ say that Mr. Jones will call on him at Mr. Jones’ convenience. Just at present I’m very busy--good day to you, sir." The miner stood stock-still while he reviewed the surprising words. Tex ignored him. "No," he said, "I ain’t lookin’ for no change in th’ weather till th’ moon changes," he explained to the two railroad men. "But, of course, you know th’ old sayin’: ’In times of drought all signs fail.’ An’ there never was a truer one. I wouldn’t be surprised if it rained any day; an’ when it comes it’s goin’ to rain hard. Still, I ain’t exactly lookin’ for it, barrin’ the sayin’, till th’ moon changes. That’s my prophecy, gents; you wait an’ see if I ain’t right. Well, I reckon I’ll be amblin’. Good day."