One of the Lazy L outfit--he who had given the milch cow--became a trifle too acrimonious in his denunciation of the manner in which the Anvil men had behaved. They had stepped beyond the bounds of gentlemanly comportment, he contended. There were high words, but the men separated. Later they met again in the Cowboys' Rest and a shooting was imminent. A boy summoned the sheriff. "Don't, boys," said Lafe, entering hastily. "Put up the gun, Dave. No shooting now. Be good boys. If anything happened--if anybody got hurt--Hetty, it'd break her all up." The combatants reluctantly surrendered their weapons and as reluctantly shook hands. Each was hurriedly impressed into a search party and they were led in opposite directions. Night found the citizens of Badger beating the bushes and peering into fence corners and yelling Hetty's name. Despairing of finding her in town, the sheriff and Horne made a circuit of the place. It had to be done slowly, as the ground was rough and one was apt to fall over mounds of tin cans and other debris. They were about a quarter of a mile beyond Badger's limits, when Lafe halted suddenly. "She's somewhere near," said he. "Why, how do you figure it? I can't see my hand in front of my face." "Figure it?" said the sheriff, who was trembling. "Man, I can feel it." He cupped his hands and shouted--"Hetty! Oh--Hetty!" "Here I am," said a drowsy voice. "Is that you, Lafe? Gracious, what's happened? It's dark." There was the bride, sitting beside a mesquite bush and rubbing her eyes. They ran to her. She got up and limped a few steps. "My foot's gone to sleep," she exclaimed. With Lafe holding her on one side and Horne pacing austerely on the other, she walked into town. Why had she run away? She had run away from Mrs. Horne and the Widow because she perceived what they planned to do. For an hour or two she waited for Lafe outside the town and then grew very sleepy. So she lay down beside the bush. "I knew you would find me," said she. Horne began to whistle, not caring to hear the sheriff's assurance that he would find her at the ends of the world--wherever those be. "What time is it? Lafe, dear, I'm so hungry. I feel like a steak," said Hetty. While she was partaking of this with a very unbridelike appetite, and Lafe was doing his best opposite her, a messenger brought the sheriff an envelope. It was unaddressed, but there was a note inside-- Here's wishing you'll be happy. Adios. I won't bother you till after the honeymoon. STEVE. While he was puzzling over it, Hetty asked what was the matter. He passed her the paper. "Wrote it in jail, I reckon," he said. "Oh, Lafe," said Turner, sticking his head inside the door, "here's a telegram for you." It was from the county seat. Steve Moffatt broke jail here yesterday. Gone over the Border. This, also, Lafe handed to his wife. "Doggone his fat head," he said. "Why couldn't he wait? Let somebody else catch him. My successor can do that."