"He would, I guess," replied Loudon. "Old Salt an' me don't just hitch, but he's square. He'd tell yuh about it."

"He won't tell me. The Bar S an' the Cross-in-a-box are more'n two hundred miles south. I ain't ridin' that far to get yore pedigree.

No, yuh can just bet I ain't. This gent here, Sheriff Block, will take yuh south. If it's like yuh say it is, then yuh needn't worry none.

Yuh'll have yore witnesses an' all right there."

"Don't yuh understand? I'll never see none o' my friends. The 88 outfit will lynch me soon as ever I hit Farewell. I tell yuh I know too much about 'em. They want me out o' the way."

Before the marshal could reply there was a bustle in the crowd, and a high-pitched feminine voice inquired what evil was being visited upon Mr. Loudon. An instant later Mrs. Burr, barearmed and perspiring, unceremoniously pushed Block to one side and confronted the marshal.

"What yuh doin' to him?" she demanded, with a quick jerk of her head toward Loudon.

"Why, Mis' Burr, ma'am," replied the marshal, "he's a hoss thief, an'

he's goin' south to Farewell."

"He ain't goin' to Farewell," retorted Mrs. Burr, "an' he ain't a hoss thief. Who says so?"

"I do, ma'am," said Block, stepping forward. "He's a hoss thief, an'----"

"Hoss thief yoreself!" snapped Mrs. Burr, wheeling on Block so fiercely that the sheriff gave ground involuntarily. "The more I look at yuh the more yuh look like a hoss thief an' a rustler an' a road agent.

You shut up, Dan Smith! I always guessed yuh was an idjit, an' now I know it! This man, Mr. Tom Loudon, is a friend o' my husband's. I know him well, an' if yuh think yo're goin' to string him up for a hoss thief yo're mistaken."

"But, ma'am," explained the unhappy marshal, "we ain't a-goin' to string him up. This gent, Sheriff Block, is takin' him south. He'll get justice down there, Mis' Burr."

"Will he? If the folks down there are as witless as you are he won't.

Justice! Yuh make me plumb weary! Did yuh ask to see this Block man's warrant? Answer me! Did you?"

"He ain't got no warrant," replied the marshal in a small voice.

"Ain't got no warrant!" screamed Mrs. Burr. "Ain't got no warrant, an'

yo're lettin' him take away a party on just his say-so! Dan Smith, since when have yuh allowed a stranger to come in an' tell you what to do? What right has this Block man from Fort Creek County to try an'

run Paradise Bend, I'd like to know?"

"I ain't tryin' to run the Bend," defended Block. "I wouldn't think o'

such a thing. But I want this hoss thief, an' I mean to have him."

The words had barely pa.s.sed Block's teeth when Loudon's self-control broke. With an inarticulate howl of rage he sprang at Block and drove the iron manacles into the sheriff's face.

Down went Block with Loudon on top of him. Twice, three times, before Dan Smith and two others pulled him up and away, Loudon smashed the handcuffs home. It was a b.l.o.o.d.y-faced, teeth-spitting sheriff that got slowly to his feet.

"By ----!" gibbered Block. "By ----! I'll down you here an' now!"

A tall man with square features tapped the raving sheriff on the shoulder.

"Don't cuss no more before a lady," advised the square-featured man.

"An' don't go draggin' at no gun. This ain't Fort Creek County. Yo're in Paradise Bend, an' I just guess yuh won't beef any sport with his hands tied. This goes as it lays."

From the crowd came murmurs of approval. Public opinion was changing front. Mrs. Burr smiled serenely.

"Yo're a real gent, Jim Mace," she said, addressing the square-featured man. "I always knowed you'd protect a defenseless female. Dan Smith,"

she continued, turning to the marshal, "unlock them handcuffs."

Dan Smith hesitated. Then Block spoiled his own case. He seized Loudon by the shoulders. Loudon promptly kicked him in the skins [Transcriber's note: shins?] and endeavoured to repeat his former a.s.sault with the handcuffs. But the two men holding him wrestled him backward.

"Do I get him?" bellowed Block, rabid with pain, for Loudon had kicked him with all his strength. "Do I get him, or are yuh goin' to let a woman tell yuh what to do?"

Jim Mace stepped close to the sheriff.

"Stranger," said Mace, sharply, "you've done chattered enough. In yore own partic'lar hog-waller yuh may be a full-size toad, but up here yo're half o' nothin'. Understand?"

The sheriff looked about him wildly. The Paradise Benders, cold, unfriendly, some openly hostile, stared back. Wrought up though he was, the sheriff had wit enough to perceive that he was treading close to the edge of a volcano. The sheriff subsided.

"Dan," said Mace, "it's come to a show-down. It's the word o' Mis'

Burr agin' Block's. There's only one answer. If I was you I'd unlock them handcuffs."

"Yo're right, Jim," agreed the marshal. "I will."

"Gimme my gun," demanded Loudon, when his hands were free.

"In a minute," parried the marshal. "Sheriff, if I was you I'd hit the trail. Yore popularity ain't more'n deuce-high just now."

"I'll go," glowered Block. "But I'll be back. An' when I come I'll have a warrant. I reckon the Sheriff o' Sunset will honour it, even if you won't."

"Bring on yore warrant," retorted the marshal.

The rumble of wheels and thud of hoofs attracted Loudon's attention.

Over the heads of the crowd he saw the high sides of a tarpaulin-covered wagon and, sitting on the driver's seat, Captain Benjamin Burr and Scotty Mackenzie.

"Hi, Cap'n Burr. Hi, Scotty!" shouted Loudon.

"Where are they?" exclaimed Mrs. Burr, her harsh features lighting up.

"Oh, there they are! You Benjamin Burr, come right in here this instant. Yore wife wants yore help!"

Captain Burr swayed back on the reins. Dragging a sawed-off shotgun he hopped to the ground, Scotty Mackenzie at his heels. The crowd made way for them. Captain Burr swept his hat off and bowed ceremoniously to his wife.

"My love," said he, "in what way may I a.s.sist you?"

"That party," sniffed Mrs. Burr, levelling a long forefinger at the wretched Block, "comes up an' accuses Mr. Tom Loudon here o' bein' a rustler an' a hoss thief. Says he's been brandin' 88 cows an' that he stole that chestnut hoss yonder."

The sawed-off shotgun, an eight-gauge Greener, covered Block's belt buckle.

"Suh, you lie," said Burr, simply.

"What did I tell all you folks?" cried Mrs. Burr, triumphantly.

Block made no attempt to draw. He folded his arms and glared ferociously. He found glaring difficult, for he knew that he did not look in the least ferocious.

"I'm doin' my duty," he said, sullenly.

"Gentlemen all, I'd like some show in this," pleaded Loudon. "Just gimme back my gun, an' me an' Block'll shoot it out."