"Quite right, you," cried another. But the trouble was not yet quite over on the verandah, for Laughlin, with his little eyes looking very fierce and determined, remarked: "Well, gentlemen, I can’t be having any shooting of any kind in my hotel. Besides, you know there ’s a law ag’in’ carrying weapons here." "No there ain’t!" cried Donoghue. "It’s concealed weapons the law is against, and I carry my gun plain for every man to see." Canlan had sat all this while on his seat as calm as you please, but suddenly the crowd at the door opened out and somebody said: "Say, here ’s the sheriff, boys," and at these words two men sprang from the verandah; the one was Donoghue, and Canlan the other. I saw them a moment running helter-skelter in the sand, but when the sheriff made his appearance they were gone. The sheriff had to get as much of the story as he could from the proprietor, who was very civil and polite, but lied ferociously, saying he did not know who the men were who had been on the verandah. "I know you, anyhow," said the sheriff, turning on Apache Kid. "Allow me, sir," and walking up to Apache Kid he drew his hand over his pockets and felt him upon the hips. Then I knew why Canlan, though entirely innocent in this matter, had fled at the cry of "sheriff." He, I guessed, would not have come off so well as Apache Kid in a search for weapons. At this stage of the proceedings the Chinese attendant passed me, quiet as is the wont of his race, and brushed up against Apache Kid just as the sheriff turned to ask Mr. Laughlin if he could not describe the man who had fired the shot. "I ain’t been out on the verandah not for a good hour," began the landlord, when Apache Kid broke in, "Well, Sheriff, I can tell you the name of one of the men who was here." "O!" said the sheriff, "and what was his name?" "Mike Canlan," said the Apache Kid, calmly. "Yes," said the sheriff, looking on him with narrowing eyes, "and the name of the other was Larry Donoghue." "Could n’t very well be Larry," said Apache Kid. "Larry was drunk to-night before sunset, and I believe you ’ll find him snoring in room number thirty at this very moment." The sheriff gazed on him a little space and I noticed, on stealing a glance at Mr. Laughlin, that a quick look of surprise passed over his colourless face. There was a ring as of respect in the sheriff’s voice when, after a long, eye-to-eye scrutiny of Apache Kid, he said slowly: "You ’re a deep man, Apache, but you won’t get me to play into your hands."