Arrived in town and refreshed, Lafe went straight to Dutch Annie. Nobody in the community was especially predisposed toward Moffatt except a few hangers-on at the Fashion who had enjoyed his largess, and a lady known as Picnic Kate. Picnic Kate lived with Dutch Annie. Her name suffices to describe her, and as persons who have no nice friends are unworthy our consideration, I will let her case rest there. However, the sheriff had a shrewd notion that if anybody knew, or was apt to learn, anything concerning Moffatt, Picnic was the individual. "I ain't saw him since him and you had that run-in up at the Fashion," said Kate. The sheriff was convinced she was lying, but merely nodded. Hetty welcomed him back with some shyness. It puzzled Johnson until he recalled the date, and then he looked troubled. "Hetty," said he, "we've got to put off the wedding again. We can't be married yet." "Why not?" The sheriff gave a short laugh. "I don't want you a widow as soon as you're a wife." "What's the matter, Lafe? What do you talk that way for? A widow?" "Moffatt's somewhere around here, I'll swear," said the sheriff. "Jeff Thomas sent me a letter to-day--here, look. He says Steve swears he'll get me." "Well?" They were standing in the front room of the Widow Brown's. Lafe sat down and tried to talk naturally, preferring not to take cognizance of the probing of Hetty's eyes. "You see, hon, Steve is the last of the ol' tough bunch. I'll get him. It'll only take a few days--something's sure to break right away--don't look so scared, hon--we'll be married in a month, I bet you." Hetty looked down at him like a queen of tragedy in a ten-twenty-thirty tent show performance. She said slowly: "No, we won't. I've got a feeling we won't ever be married." "Pshaw!" said Johnson. "Don't talk like that." "But I feel like that." "Women always get ideas like that of yours in their heads. If somebody looks cross at a feller, they can see a funeral with all his friends sending Gates Ajar wreaths. No, ma'am. I ain't ready for mine yet awhile." "Why don't you throw it all up?" she asked abruptly. "You mean my job? Resign? Quit being sheriff?" "Yes, I do. Oh, you're bound to get killed some day. And for heaven's sake, what is there in it? If things go right--well, that's what they're supposed to do, anyhow. But if things go wrong, you get blamed." Hetty spun around to the window when she saw Lafe's expression of amazement. She gazed out at the ugly, huddled nakedness of Badger, and there was loathing in her eyes. "The place ain't fit for a human to live in." "You won't have to stay here long, hon," the sheriff reminded her. "But anything's apt to happen before that. We've put it off twice already." "Once," Lafe corrected.