In good time the sheriff returned, but of Moffatt he had found no trace. Immediately upon arrival, he inquired at the telegraph office for messages, expecting that Haverty would have wired him further information from Badger. The man behind the counter listened with a far-away expression and then assured him sadly that there was nothing. Lafe went away in doubt and returned next morning, insisting that the telegrapher had made a mistake; a letter received from Haverty spoke of a wire sent the day of his departure. The official shrugged his shoulders at this display of bull-headed persistence, so typically American, and asked him once again for his name. Then, still pensive, he thumbed over a pile of flimsy. "Johnsing, you said?" "Sure. Johnson. That's me. I done told you that a thousand times." "Ah, yes. Here are two," said the telegrapher, and very deliberately he smoothed out the messages and delivered them. The first dealt with dates of Moffatt's appearances on the Border, so far as Haverty had been able to learn them. They were nothing but unconfirmed rumors, and Lafe skimmed over it. The other was unsigned and he read it several times, the copper hue of his face deepening. "Don't worry. Nobody can lie to me about you." He thrust this message into his shirt pocket and forgot all about the reproof he had rehearsed for the telegrapher's benefit. Very jauntily he exhibited the slip to Buffalo Jim at the slaughter house. That worthy butcher eyed it gravely, and grunted. "She's a daisy," he said, after mature consideration, vaguely aware that Lafe expected him to say something appropriate. "You're damn whistlin'," said Lafe. "What'd I tell you, Buf'lo? She'd never believe nothing against me." "Yes, sir, she's a daisy," Buffalo repeated. "It's like she just tore up that widow woman's letter and was as sarcastic as hell." As Jim said this, he winked at one of the wagon horses. Then he went leisurely to work again on a piece of harness he was patching. "All the same, Lafe," he admonished, "you'd better figure on her throwing that up to you again. The woman never breathed that wouldn't. Hey? You mark my words--the first row you have, Hetty'll hand you one about Paula, first crack out of the box." "You don't know her." "No, I don't," said Buffalo Jim, "but I've knowed a heap of others." CHAPTER XX THE SHERIFF PURGES TOWN OF BADGER The sheriff, rather crestfallen, was obliged to return to Badger without Moffatt. Having lost all trace of him, he was suspicious that the gunfighter would strike unexpectedly from another direction; perhaps in Badger itself, relying on Johnson's absence. His acquaintance with Moffatt had been short, but sufficient to persuade Lafe that he was most to be feared when nobody knew his whereabouts.