When we, following more slowly, arrived at that point he was nowhere visible, having evidently pushed on speedily. Nor at the third level did we have any sight of him, though now we caught a glimpse of the first sign of civilisation—a feather of steam puffing up away to left among the scrubby trees, indicating the Bonanza mine; and a little beyond it another plume of steam from the McNair mine. A little below us there was a running stream and this being a sheltered fold of the hill, I suppose, defended from the east and north, there grew honeysuckle there and the scent of it came to us most refreshingly. There we sat down, apparently, from the sheriff’s manner, to await some turn of events. *CHAPTER XXIII* _*The Sheriff Changes His Opinion*_ It was a good two hours after the departure of Slim. We sat in silence (while the ponies browsed the tufts of grass) watching the clouds of mosquitos hanging in their phalanxes along the trickle of the stream and the bright, gauzy, blue wings of two mosquito-hawks flashing through their midst. "By the way," said Apache Kid, "do you know if Miss Pinkerton herself has heard of this accusation against me?" "By now, she is liable to have heard some rumour of it, I reckon," said the sheriff; "but as to whether she heard the news or not at the time of my starting out after you, I dunno." The implication was amusing. "Ah, yes, of course," said Apache Kid. "You act so promptly, always, Sheriff." The Indian, who was sitting a little above us, spoke: "Tree men," he said, "an’ tree men and one man come along up-hill beside the honeysuckle." "That’s seven," said Apache Kid. "Seven?" said the Sheriff, sharply, rising to his feet; "and no waggon?" "No." "I reckon this is a deppitation," said the sheriff, as he glared down-hill. "I don’t like deputations of seven," said Apache Kid, looking down to the honeysuckle. "We were visited by one deputation of seven on this trip already; eh, Francis?" "Ho?" said the sheriff. "You did n’t tell me;" but he was not looking at Apache. He was gazing across the rolling land towards those who were coming in our direction, now quite plain to see—seven mounted men, armed, and suspicion-rousing. "Pity about them guns and shells being lost," said the sheriff, and then he sung out: "Halt right there and talk. What you want?" One man moved his horse a step or two ahead of the others, who had reined in. "We want that man you have there," said he. "Halt right there," said the sheriff again; and then he remarked to Apache: "Reckon you ’d rather travel down to Baker City with a reputable sheriff and have an orderly trial before hangin’ instead o’ hangin’ up here-aways without no trial." "I ’d rather go down——" "Halt right there!" roared the sheriff. "—and prove myself innocent of the charge," Apache ended.