"'Well, you know Mrs. Shields said we was to go to her house when any of us hit town?' he asked. "'I shore do,' I answered, wondering what was up. "'Well, I go to town a lot, and it takes a h--l of a lot of gall to do it,' he complained, looking so serious that it was funny. "'Gall!' said I, surprised-like, and trying to keep my face straight. 'Gall! Well, I can't see that it takes such a brave man to call at a friend's house when he's been told to do it.' "'Oh, that part of it is all right," he replied. 'But she'll think I only call to get my face fed, and it makes me feel like a--I don't know what. You see, I always get away quick.' "'Well, stay longer, there ain't no use of being in a hurry,' I said. 'Stay and talk a while.' "'Then they'll think I ain't got enough and push more pie at me, like they did once,' he complained. "'Suppose I give Silent your terrible ordeal to do,' I suggested tentatively, 'or Bud, he's dead anxious for your job.' "'Oh, it ain't as bad as that!' he cried quickly. 'I only thought that I'd speak to you about it. I thought you could suggest something.' "'Well,' I replied, 'every time you call you say I sent you over to ask about the sheriff's health. How'll that do?' "He grinned sheepishly and then swore: 'H--l, that would make a shore enough mess of it,' he cried. 'I'd be a royal American idiot to say a thing like that, now, wouldn't I?'" The sheriff laughed heartily, and they talked about the picnic until they had reached the ranch-house, where he wrote the note to his wife. Bidding his friend good-by, he rode out past the corrals and headed for the A-Y. When about half-way to his own ranch, and on A-Y ground, he surmounted a rise and saw a figure flit from sight behind a thicket, and his curiosity was immediately aroused. Not knowing who the man might be, he stalked his quarry and finally found Bucknell standing beside his horse. "Well, what's the trouble now?" the sheriff asked as he came out into sight. He was dangerously near angry, for Bucknell was on forbidden ground and was flushed as if from liquor. "What's the trouble?" he repeated. Bucknell looked confused: "Nothing, Sheriff. Why?" he asked, evading the searching gaze of the peace officer. "Oh, I thought something might have gone wrong on the Cross Bar-8, and that you were looking for me," Shields coldly replied. Bucknell looked at the ground and coughed nervously before he replied, which only made the sheriff all the more determined to get at the matter in a true light. "No, nothing's wrong," replied the puncher. "I was just riding out this way--I was some nervous, that's all." "That don't go with me!" the sheriff said sharply. "I've lived too long to bite on a yarn like that. Why, you can't look at me!" The puncher did not reply and the sheriff continued: