Since the day at Maverick, when the Sheriff had tried to arrest him, Jim had often seen Bud. He was never sure of the honesty of the man’s intentions, ne and Big Bill had often discussed Bud’s unfitness for the power he held in the place, but he gave no sign of this in his greeting. Bud’s great frame towered above the others. He seemed more effusive and excited than the occasion warranted, and Big Bill’s brows rose questioningly as he saw the demonstrative way in which he greeted Jim. "Howdy, Mr. Carston—howdy? Knowin’ the hospitality of this here outfit, we most killed ourselves to git here, to say nothin’ of the horses. We left them leanin’ up against the corral, the worst done up cayuses." Then directly in appeal to Jim, he said, "We simply got to stay here to-night, Mr. Carston." With a cordial gesture of invitation, Jim said, "You and the boys are welcome, Sheriff, and what we lack in grub and accommodations we’ll hope to make up to you in good-will." As Jim spoke, Bud quickly glanced in triumph at Clarke, a prominent worker in his posse. The pale face of Clarke gave back a glance of comprehension as he lowered his white-lashed eyelids over his bulging eyes. All this was observed by Bill, who sauntered towards the Sheriff as Bud answered Jim. "What’s good enough for you all is good enough for us, you bet," and he wrung Jim’s hand again. "Why, hello!" he finished, as he saw Bill and turned to greet him. "Any news?" Bill laconically asked, as he studied Bud and his men. "Nothin’ of any consequence," said Bud. "We just had a little fracas down at the agency. Total result, one Injin killed." A shout of approval rose from the boys, but Clarke broke in with another guffaw. "And the joke of it is, Bud killed the wrong man." "But nothin’ to it. All in a day’s work," Bud laughingly explained. "You look tired, Sheriff," Jim said. "The boys will take you to their quarters. Shorty, you and the others make the Sheriff and his people feel at home." There was a murmur of approval. "Come on," said Shorty, and the men started for their quarters. Shorty, who loved bossing an affair almost better than teasing, swept them all on before him. Then he linked his arm through Bud’s. "Say, Bud, I’ll bet you a saddle to a shoe-string you never roped the man who killed Cash Hawkins at Maverick." Clarke, who seemed deliberately to keep near Bud, gave an involuntary look of surprise at the Sheriff, but the flash of anger on Bud’s blowsed, crimson face quickly cowed him. "Oh," Bud said, lightly, "that was years and years ago, Shorty," and with his arm about him he followed the men towards their quarters. Clarke lingered to cast a furtive glance at the hut and stables, but only for a moment, for he quickly realized that Bill was intently watching him.