Buskirk grinned through his grime, as he said, “What about Mazie?” “She’ll get there,” said Joe East huskily, “but she may have to drag me.” Mack Shell drew a deep breath, wiped a grimy hand across his face and said: “I reckon everythin’ is all right, folks. The marshal has done taken over for himself.” [Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the Summer, 1948 issue of _Giant Western_ magazine.]