"Oh, well, Curt, you-all ain't run for office yet. When you do, you'll appreciate the fact that the greasers have got to be put where they'll do the most good. I'm willin' to give 'em that much, and I'm only too thankful old Vigil and his friends don't strike for the Sheriff's place." Tillinghurst chuckled, while Wilder smiled grimly and profanely reckoned he wouldn't serve under Vigil or any other Mexican. "Mebbe that pock-marked Melgares has been up to some mischief by this time," he added. "I hain't set eyes on him for nigh two hours. Let's go down to the Blue Front, have a drink, and find out if anything's happened." They went down the street together, Brown Betty following with the bridle over her neck. A block farther down stream, a good-looking Mexican came out of the First National Bank and passed them. The Sheriff turned a second keen glance upon him. "That looks like Liberato Herrara," he said to his deputy in a hasty aside. Raising his voice he accosted the man in Spanish. The Mexican turned and replied in precise English with grave courtesy, "Did the señor speak to me?" "Yes; ain't you Liberato Herrara?" "No, señor. My name is José Gonzalez." The Sheriff apologized, and the other bowed politely, fell behind, and crossed to the other side of the stream. Conrad asked Tillinghurst if he did not believe Herrara guilty of the murder of which he had been acquitted several months before. "Of course he was. And it's likely that ain't the only one either. I'm glad this man ain't him. If he was down here it would be on some business for Baxter, and it wouldn't do for me to find out too much about it." Conrad snorted contemptuously, and Wilder said, "Dan, you're talkin' too damn much." "Oh, Curt's all right," replied the Sheriff, placidly. "He couldn't hate Baxter any more than he does if he tried, but he don't go back on his friends. This man Melgares," he went on, "that we're hopin' will make up his mind to do somethin' worth while, tells a queer yarn. He says he used to have a good ranch in the Rio Grande valley, between Socorro and Albuquerque, but he borrowed money on it from Baxter. Of course he couldn't pay, Dell foreclosed, and Melgares had to get out." "Yes; I heard the other day about Baxter's operations up there," Conrad broke in hotly. "I understand he's got hold of a lot of land in just that way. It's a cursed, low-down, dirty piece of business." "Oh, well, better men than Baxter have done the same sort of thing," the Sheriff responded. "From all I can find out about Melgares I reckon he was honest enough up to that time; but he's been goin' it pretty lively ever since. I think he's aimin' to work down to the border, where he can do the crisscross act." Conrad turned with an exclamation of sudden remembrance. "By the way! Bill Williams told me just now that Rutherford Jenkins is here, at his hotel. Have you seen him? Do you know what he's here for?"