Standing on the porch was a figure in worn but clean denims and miner's boots. His face was weathered from years in the desert sun. His hair was grizzled where it could be seen under an ancient and disreputable flat-topped, broad-brimmed hat. His eyes, under shaggy brows, were a clear, twinkling blue. The man held a rifle; the muzzle pointed unwaveringly at the boys. "That your jeep in the wash?" he asked. "That's ours," Scotty affirmed. "Mislay a few parts?" "You might say so," Rick agreed. "Who are you?" "I'm the mayor of Steamboat." The boys started. "The mayor?" Rick echoed. "Yep. Likewise the sheriff. As mayor, I welcome you. As sheriff, I want your names and business." The boys gave their names, then Scotty asked, "How did you get into town? I didn't hear a car." "Good reason. I didn't drive. Now, what are you doing here?" [Illustration: _"What are you doing here?" the man demanded_] "Waiting to be rescued," Rick said on impulse. "Reckon that can be arranged. You drove in, hey? But you didn't drive into town. Instead, you parked in the wash. Now, as sheriff, I find that mighty interesting. You wouldn't have parked there unless you didn't want to be seen. Only I suspect you were seen, and whoever did the seein' walked off with your distributor cap and rotor. Unless you have 'em, which I doubt. If you had 'em you wouldn't need rescuin'. Correct?" "You're telling it," Rick replied courteously. "Yep. Also, you're from Scarlet Lake, and you're nosy. Day before yesterday you got nosy at Careless Mesa and nearly got pinked. Are you busybodies, or have you got a right to snoop?" Rick stared at the man. He had a strong suspicion they were looking at the mysterious rifleman. Since the man hadn't come into Steamboat by car, he must have come by horseback. The rifleman had departed from Careless Mesa by horseback, too. Scotty spoke up, in response to the man's question. "You might say we're busybodies. We're curious about everything." "Uh-uh. Toss me your badges." Rick's eyes met Scotty's. He shrugged. There was no reason for not complying. Both boys detached their badges and tossed them across the floor. The man picked them up, examined them closely, then tossed them back. "All right. Come on with me and we'll have some breakfast." He tucked the rifle under his arm, turned, and walked out. As the boys followed, they cast puzzled looks at each other. The man led them to the cache Scotty had found. A saddled horse was standing in front of the house. "I've seen that horse before," Scotty said. "It was nice of you to wave at me up at Careless Mesa." The man grinned. Rick asked bluntly, "Why did you shoot at us?" Twinkling blue eyes surveyed him. "Didn't. If I'd shot at you I'd have scored a few hits." "You were warning us off," Scotty said. "Were we getting too close to something?"