For more than a month, the sheriff lay sick. Armstrong feared concussion of the brain, but his diagnosis proved incorrect. And Hetty nursed him as never a man was nursed before, in that country of rough methods. Indeed, her devotion was so pronounced that the entire sentiment of Badger underwent a change. The married ladies came to the tardy conclusion that Miss Ferrier belonged to the sisterhood of good women; none of the males had ever doubted it; the whole town paid tribute to her conduct, and their indignation against the sheriff's assailant waxed correspondingly. At the beginning of the first week of convalescence, the Floyds arrived in Badger from the Lazy L. Mrs. Floyd was hampered by no scruples on the score of false modesty; if her husband did not object--if her Tom understood--what mattered it about the rest of the world? So, straight to Lafe's bedside she went. "Lafe! Dear old Lafe," she exclaimed, when she saw the unnatural pallor of his face. Hetty was standing at the other side of the bed. She tried bravely not to stiffen towards their visitor when she saw her kneel and take Lafe's hand, but some subtle sense of divination--or perhaps it was that Mrs. Floyd was so pretty--made her reception frigid. Mrs. Floyd glanced quickly into her face, then seized her impetuously, crying: "Don't. Oh, please don't. Lafe and I were babies together." Whereupon the amazed patient beheld Hetty clasp the smaller woman in her arms, and the two took to weeping. This must have been excellent for his complaint, because the sheriff mended rapidly from that date. It was not long before he went about as usual, although a long strip of plaster adorned one ear. His first care was to talk with the proprietor of the Fashion, who said: "The hammer was on the wrong chamber? Why, Lafe, surely you don't think--" That was exactly what the sheriff thought. It ended in the saloonkeeper leaving town in haste. Then the sheriff set quietly to work to ascertain whither Moffatt had flown for refuge. It would be so warm for him along the Border now, that a haven would be difficult. "We'd best to wait a mite yet, Hetty," he told his fiancee again. "Supposing he was to get me? No, no. It's either me or him. So let's just keep the wedding off a while, hon, and then this'll all be straightened out." "Oh--all right." "You see, hon, I want to have a clean slate," he went on rather lamely. "Don't you understand? Before we get married, I aim to throw up this job of sheriff and take to running cattle with ol' Horne." "Huh-huh." "Don't look that way, hon. Steve, he's the last. I'll go get him and then I'll have done what they put me in for." "Oh, of course, if you think more of the people who elected you than you do of me," said Hetty. For a moment he seemed taken aback. Then his face cleared and he swept Hetty into his arms. He did not have long to wait for news of the outlaw. A telegram came from Floyd of the Lazy L.