“Wal, when I arrived with the cattle I was some put to it to make ends meet. An’ to-day I wasn’t in no angelic humor. When I hed my business all done I went around pokin’ my nose beak an’ there, tryin’ to get scent of thet money. An’ I happened in at a hall we hev thet does duty fer’ jail an’ hospital an’ election-post an’ what not. Wal, just then it was doin’ duty as a hospital. Last night was fiesta night—these Greasers hev a fiesta every week or so—an’ one Greaser who hed been bad hurt was layin’ in the hall, where he hed been fetched from the station. Somebody hed sent off to Douglas fer a doctor, but be hedn’t come yet. I’ve hed some experience with gunshot wounds, an’ I looked this feller over. He wasn’t shot up much, but I thought there was danger of blood-poison-in’. Anyway, I did all I could. “The hall was full of cowboys, ranchers, Greasers, miners, an’ town folks, along with some strangers. I was about to get started up this way when Pat Hawe come in. “Pat he’s the sheriff. I reckon, Miss Majesty, thet sheriffs are new to you, an’ fer sake of the West I’ll explain to you thet we don’t hev many of the real thing any more. Garrett, who killed Billy the Kid an’ was killed himself near a year or so ago—he was the kind of sheriff thet helps to make a self-respectin’ country. But this Pat Hawe—wal, I reckon there’s no good in me sayin’ what I think of him. He come into the hall, an’ he was roarin’ about things. He was goin’ to arrest Danny Mains on sight. Wal, I jest polite-like told Pat thet the money was mine an’ he needn’t get riled about it. An’ if I wanted to trail the thief I reckon I could do it as well as anybody. Pat howled thet law was law, an’ he was goin’ to lay down the law. Sure it ‘peared to me thet Pat was daid set to arrest the first man he could find excuse to. “Then he cooled down a bit an’ was askin’ questions about the wounded Greaser when Gene Stewart come in. Whenever Pat an’ Gene come together it reminds me of the early days back in the ‘seventies. Jest naturally everybody shut up. Fer Pat hates Gene, an’ I reckon Gene ain’t very sweet on Pat. They’re jest natural foes in the first place, an’ then the course of events here in El Cajon has been aggravatin’. “‘Hello, Stewart! You’re the feller I’m lookin’ fer,’ said Pat. “Stewart eyed him an’ said, mighty cool an’ sarcastic, ‘Hawe, you look a good deal fer me when I’m hittin’ up the dust the other way.’ “Pat went red at thet, but he held in. ‘Say, Stewart, you-all think a lot of thet roan horse of yourn, with the aristocratic name?’ “‘I reckon I do,’ replied Gene, shortly. “‘Wal, where is he?’ “‘Thet’s none of your business, Hawe.’