Every one went uptown to the carnival that first evening. Wint was there, and Jack Routt, Agnes, Joan, V. R. Kite--every one. In mid-evening, the quieter folk drifted home, but Wint stayed to watch what passed. A little after eleven, he bumped into a drunken man. In spite of his warning to the advance agent of this carnival, Wint had been expecting to see drunken men. It was the nature of the carnival breed. He wandered back and forth till he came upon Jim Radabaugh, and called the marshal aside. “Jim,” he said, “they’re selling booze.” Radabaugh shifted that lump in his cheek, and spat. “So?” he asked mildly. “I want it stopped,” said Wint. “If you pin it on the carnival bunch, I’ll shut them up.” “I’ll see,” Radabaugh promised. “Come along, first, and let’s talk to the boss,” Wint suggested; and they sought out that man. He was running the merry-go-round; a hard little fellow with a cold blue eye. Wint introduced himself; and the man shook hands effusively. “My name’s Rand,” he said. “Mike Rand. Glad t’ meet you, Mister Mayor.” Wint said: “That’s all right,” and he asked: “Did your advance man give you my orders?” “What orders?” “I told him I didn’t want any booze peddling.” “Sure, he told me.” Wint jerked his head backward toward Main Street. “I ran into a drunk up there,” he said. Rand grinned. “Can’t help that. We’re not selling any.” “I’m holding you responsible,” said Wint. “If there’s any sold, I’ll cancel your permits.” The little man stared at him bleakly. “You’ve got a nerve. You can’t pin anything on us.” “I can’t help that,” Wint told him. “In fact, I don’t care. If there’s booze sold, you get out. If I pin in on any man, he goes to jail. Is that clear?” “What is this town, anyway--a damned Sunday school?” “If you like,” said Wint sweetly; and he and Radabaugh turned away. Rand’s engine man left his throttle to approach his chief and ask: “What’s up? Who was that?” “Mayor of this burg and the marshal. Say we’ve got to shut down on the booze.” “Like hell!” Rand grinned. “Sure. He can’t run a whoozer on me.” When he left Radabaugh, Wint ran into Jack Routt, and they strolled about together through the crowd. Once they saw Hetty, and Wint thought she was unnaturally cheerful and gay. He wondered if it were possible she had been drinking again; and he stared after her so long that Routt asked: “Takes your eye, does she?’ “I was wondering,” said Wint. Routt touched his arm. “You take it from me, Wint, you want to keep clear of her. I’d get her out of the house, if I were you. They’re beginning to talk.” Wint asked angrily: “Who’s beginning to talk? What about?” “Everybody. About Hetty--and you, naturally.” “I wish they--I wish people in this town would mind their own business.” Routt grinned and said: “You act as though there was something in it.” “Don’t be a darned fool.”