"When a feller like him catches on to other people letting him off easy on account of her, he'll work that game for all it's worth. Instead of tryin' to cover up his tracks, it'd be lots better to give him rope enough to hang himself. Then she could cut loose from him." "No she wouldn't," contradicted Limber. "So long as Glendon is above ground she'll stick to him, no matter what he does. Glen knows that, too." "Then, by God! I hope something will put him under ground before he breaks her heart," exploded Buckboard, giving a vicious slash with a tie-rope at a handy post which relieved his irritation, for he knew Limber had spoken the truth. The conversation was interrupted by Bronco who hastened up to Limber. "Guess there's goin' to be trouble in town," he announced. "Glendon?" demanded Buckboard, hopefully. "Nope. It's Three-fingered Jack this time," was the reply. "Alpaugh, the constable, is away at Tombstone, and Three-finger come in last night and has been tankin' up ever since, and by this time he figgers he's got the range to hisself." "Whar's Peachy? Isn't he Deputy Constable?" asked Limber as they passed through the corral gate. Bronco grunted. "Peachy? Whar's Peachy?" he paused to gather scorn. "Peachy's in hidin'. Jack shot out the lights in the corner saloon last night and every one ducked and stampeded, and that denied Deputy Constable dropped on all fours behind the bar and crawled outen the room jest like the yeller pup he is. All he needs is a few fleas to finish him! Then he lit out in the back yard and one feller told me he seen him jump over that ten-foot board fence back of the saloon, and he swars Peachy never teched it. He's some jack-rabbit when it comes to jumpin', and he's got as much nerve as one. Just because Jack's got the name of bein' a bad man and handy with his gun, he's got the whole town buffaloed. But the funny thing is, no one ever knowed who Jack has killed. He sure ain't done no gun-play here except plug tin cans to show off." "He needs some one to take that freshness outen him;" Limber spoke quietly as though commenting on the weather. "If Peachy ain't handy, looks like it's up to us to see the Jedge and ask if he needs any deputy." "That's why I was huntin' you," was Bronco's answer, but further conversation was interrupted by a fusilade of shots. "I guess he's turned loose," Limber spoke as they ran toward the noises. "Thar ain't no time now to see the Jedge. It's up to us, Bronc. Come along." They were joined by other men who ran from various directions and at a turn of the street they saw Three-fingered Jack standing in the roadway, close to the office of the Justice of the Peace, who represented the only judicial authority in Willcox. Jack's pistol was smoking. He regarded the assembled men insolently. "I heerd there's some one who's going to serve a warrant on me," challenged Jack. "What I'm afraid of is that he won't know just where to find me."