"Oh! it was an off season for me, Sheriff Bob," replied the guide, laughing; "an' I thought I'd try playing guide again, this time to a bunch of Boy Scouts what come out to the Rockies from the Far East, to hunt big game." The sheriff grinned broadly, as though that struck him a good deal in the nature of a joke. "Boy Scouts, eh?" he continued, as he calmly sat him down by the fire; "well, I've heard a heap about them, but these are the first I've set eyes on. They brought their nerve along with 'em I reckon, Toby?" and he chuckled again while speaking. "That's the way I thought about 'em fust pop, Sheriff Bob," remarked Toby, in a quiet, convincing tone; "but I've found out that I sized 'em up a lot too low. They's eight of 'em in the bunch, and the rest is keepin' camp down by that willow that stands by the spring hole in the valley. We came out to-day to try and get a big-horn." The sheriff sniffed the air at this. "Say, you don't mean to tell me they shot a sheep?" he demanded. "Two of the same, and at a pretty fair distance too. We got 'em both. This here, who is known as Smithy, had never killed anything bigger'n a mouse afore, I understands, an' precious few of 'em; while Step Hen here, he's had considerable experience up in Maine, which is said to be a good hunting ground." The sheriff pursed up his lips, and arched his eyebrows. "Well," he remarked, "I'd like to shake hands with you both, boys, because you've done what I never yet accomplished in my life--shot a big-horn." "But sho! that ain't near all," declared the proud Toby; "they got a couple of big grizzlies in the bargain; and right this very day Step Hen, he clumb half way down that cliff thar, to shove his sheep loose; and had to fight for his life agin a pair o' cantankerous eagles what had a nest up thar. I went to his help, an' thar the birds lie, Sheriff Bob!" The officer whistled again. "This _is_ a surprise, I must say," he remarked. "But Toby, if so be you could spare us a mouthful of that same mutton, why, we'd be obliged. We've got to be going in a little while, because, you see, I'm up here to assist this gentleman, who's name is Mr. Artemus Rawson, and a lawyer from Denver, look up a boy who's his nephew, and who's stolen something his uncle values a heap. We learned he was last seen on the hike for this country roundabout; and I'm bound to find him, by hook or by crook. I always do, you remember, Toby; none of them ever gets away from Sheriff Bob." Step Hen almost cried out, such was the thrill that shot through him. Almost instinctively his eyes sough those of Davy Jones, and a look of intelligence passed between them. Rawson, the sheriff said his name was, and he was a lawyer from Denver, looking for a boy who was his nephew, and whose name therefore was likely to be the same!