LITMIR.BIZ

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it ain't nothin' to smile about! That's what gripes me. I'd kill somebody for that."

      The sheriff stared long and intently at Tom Lilly. His forehead wrinkled thoughtfully and he removed his pipe, tapping it against the grating. "Wherever she is, nobody's treatin' her too bad. Them boys ain't forgot they're gentlemen—of a sort."

      "What boys?" demanded Lilly.

      The sheriff merely grinned. Lilly stood up. "Say, you seem to know a powerful lot. When do I get tried for this awful crime I didn't commit?"

      "Soon enough," said the sheriff. "As for knowin' things, I'll admit it. That's why I hold my job. You have to mingle politics with duty in this country, Red."

      Lilly heard him creaking down the stairs and call to somebody in the street. A short while after a rider cantered southward from the town—Lilly saw him go from the back window of his cubicle. The sheriff, too, got aboard his sorrel and ambled leisurely away from the smothering heap that was Powder. The day droned along; night came and with it the sounds of reviving pleasure. Supper came. The piano in Jake Miner's place sent forth its stuttering off-key harmony. Boots clumped across the sheriff's office below him. Evidently that worthy was back from his ride. Lilly rolled an after supper cigarette and reflected on many things. Considering the seriousness of the charge placed against him, it seemed the sheriff maintained a mighty friendly attitude toward him; nor did he seem greatly exercised at the thought of Jill Breck having disappeared. There was mystery behind this. Was the man in league with Trono? On the surface it appeared so, but Lilly could not imagine double-dealing behind the sheriffs square, frank face.

      Darkness had long since fallen. Below, there was a murmuring of voices, two or three of them. Then the stairway squealed under a heavy body and a vague shadow appeared beyond the grating. A key scraped the lock and a soft voice—a voice that had a sweet and laughing timber to it—floated inward.

      "Yeh. The sheriff said this was where he kept his star boarder. Iron bars do not a prison make! Shore enough. Mister Lilly would you be so kind as to step forth where I c'n shock myself with yore unholy mug oncet more?"

      Lilly sprang up, checking a shout of delight. Joe Breedlove! Pattipaws then, had delivered his message. He shoved the door open and with an effort spoke casually. "You old wampus cat."

      "Yeh. Same to yuh an' many of them. It shorely seems natcheral—me gittin' yuh outa jail oncet more. I'm allus giftin' yuh outa some mess." A firm hand closed on his shoulder. Breedlove's tall, square body stooped toward him. "I'm a man o' peace. I hate to fight. But here I am, now who do I shoot?"

      "Easy, boy. What'd you do with the sheriff?"

      "Oh, Moses an' I sorter sauntered in like we wanted to converse with him an' gits the drop. He's down talkin' religion to Moses now. Only it's hard fer a gent to talk with his hands tied."

      "You brought the boys along?"

      "Eight simple-minded men o' the open spaces. We rolled our blankets five minutes after yore telegram come. Hopped a freight at the water tank an' had a right nice journey. Railroad men c'n be awful accommodatin', when they got to be. The Injun was at the Junction waitin' fer us. Guess he knew all about yuh, fer he leads us thisaway. I left the boys outside so nobody'd get excited."

      Lilly groped down the stairway and opened a door into a side room. A lantern emitted feeble rays through its smudgy shield, revealing the sheriff neatly tied to a chair and a sad-faced, loose-jointed person standing near him, speaking in polite solemnity about the weather. The sheriff seemed not to mind his position; he grinned with cheerful humor when Tom Lilly entered.

      "I was wonderin' when your party would arrive," said he. "Better turn down that lantern a little. Somebody might peek in that door."

      "Huh?" asked Lilly. "How did you know I asked for help?"

      "Shucks, man, give me a little credit. Ever' time a sparrow ketches a worm in Robey County I know it. How? That's my own business. What's your next move?"

      "Now look here," interrupted Lilly. "Explain yoreself. I don't arrive at you atall. Are you for me or agin me? If yore for me, why did you put me in the jug? If yore agin me, what's the idea o' actin' as if you'd found yore long lost brother?"

      "I'm for justice. Red. That's a-plenty. But sometimes I've got to use devious means to arrive at it. Now, I pinched you to keep Trono and his fine assassins from tyin' you to a tree, which they honed to do. As for lookin' proud in these close-embracin' folds of rope, what good would it do me to cuss? You got me. Now go on an' peddle your papers. Though I'm more'n half glad you rustled up some good men."

      "Don't it beat hell?" grunted Lilly. Joe Breedlove was smiling, his tall, husky frame slightly bent over. His was the countenance of a man well disposed toward the world; from his sandy yellow hair downward he made a picture of an easy-going, shrcwdly-observant character. Sadness had touched Joe Breedlove; he had never had a home. Once, he had seen himself double-hitched and running his own small ranch. But that was only a memory now. Out of all this he could still smile that sweet, charitable smile, looking at the world with eyes that were sometimes thoughtful, but never embittered.

      The sheriff seemed to find him worth studying. "Tell that red- headed friend of yours how it is when you get a chance. You savvy, don't you?"

      Breedlove nodded. "Uhuh. Tom might, too, if he wa'n't such a dog-goned ser'ous nature. Y' see, he's all fight."

      "So I can see. Well, where you bound for now?'"

      "I'm goin' to rake Pilgrim Valley with a fine comb," said Tom Lilly.

      "It's plumb empty," replied the sheriff. "Turn your attention to the 3Cross. You'll find something interesting there."

      "Well, by the Lord Harry," exploded Tom, "if you know that much, why haven't you collected a posse and gone after 'em?"

      "Because I couldn't find ten men I could trust. Somebody'd squeal and when I got to the rancho I wouldn't find a thing."

      "Well, we'll surprise 'em this time," said Tom. "You better come along."

      "Nope," objected the sheriff. "There might be some violence done and I'd have to take official cognizance of it. What I don't see I don't know. Just tie me tighter in this chair an' shove me in the corner. Then turn out the light, lock the door and be on your way. Good luck."

      Joe Breedlove, chuckling, stepped forward to do as the sheriff asked. The two exchanged glances, they understood each other quite well, for they were of the same type. "I'd admire to drink with yuh some day," said Breedlove.

      "Well, that goes double," replied the sheriff. "When your vacation in the hills is finished drop back."

      Lilly shook his head. "You shore beat me, Sheriff. Well, let's be goin'." They slid out of the office and, hidden by the shadows, ducked through an alley to the back of the town. A hundred yards off they collided with a waiting party. Muffled words of greeting floated upward, the rough and apparently unemotional talk of men glad to see another.

      "Here's the ol' hoss."

      "Drunk er sober? Hey, remember when we had t' pull him outen that scrape at Box Canyon?"

      "He don't git no tamer."

      Lilly fired back. "Same old pack of gossipin' gran-ma's. Hope you brought yore tattin' along."

      They had journeyed into the country without horses or gear. Yet here they stood, eight of them, each mounted, and with an extra animal for Lilly. Mounting and leading away to the south, he put a puzzled question. "Where'd you collect these scarecrows from, Joe?"

      "Why, we borrowed 'em from the town's stable. The gent in charge is out in one o' them empty sheds, reflectin' over the sinfulness o' this world."

      There was a suppressed chuckle. The H-H crew was having a glorious vacation. Lilly settled into a stiff pace and led them toward the 3Cross. "Well, have a good time while you can, amigos. There's shootin' work ahead. Don't forget it." Leather creaked and spurs jingled. A black veil shrouded the sky and left the world in utter darkness. Somewhere, a coyote sent forth his quavering, lonesome cry; the smell of sage was in the night breeze.

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