"Something's up, of course," drawled Allen as he stepped down from the door, "or you wouldn't come around disturbing folks this way. What is it?"

Hollis briefly related the events of the night, concluding with the statement that he was determined to force the law to act.

"Correct!" laughed Allen. "She's got to act now." He caught Hollis's arm and turned him toward a small cottonwood grove about half a mile distant. A dozen white objects dotting the grove caught Hollis's gaze.

He started.

"Soldiers!" he exclaimed.

"I might say that was a good guess," drawled Allen. "I sent for them because I thought I might need them if our friend Dunlavey got to cuttin' up any. It's been my experience that a detail of Uncle Sam's boys is about as good a thing to have around in case of trouble as any man could want."

"But you can't use them in this case," remarked Judge Graney, who had stepped down beside the two men. "The governor's instructions were that they should be used merely as an instrument in enforcing the court's order regarding the sale of Dunlavey's cattle. The theft of the Circle Bar cattle is a matter which comes directly under the jurisdiction of the sheriff. If he refuses to act----"

"h.e.l.l!" broke in Allen. "We know he won't do anything!"

The Judge smiled slightly. "I suspect he won't," he said dryly. He winked at Hollis.

"Being a judge in this district I am, of course, averse to advising any infractions of the law. But if I were not a judge I would suggest that two strong, energetic men--such as you appear to be----" He leaned forward and whispered in Allen's ear, whereat that gentleman let out a joyous whoop and almost dragged Hollis around the corner of the building toward the street, leaving the Judge standing in the doorway.

Once on the street Allen set a pace that brought the two to the door of the sheriff's office quickly. A light shone through the window and when Allen opened the door Watkins was sitting beside his desk, gravely fumbling a deck of cards. He dropped them when he saw his visitors and made a quick movement with his right hand toward his revolver. But Allen's weapon was already out.

"Bill," he said in a soft, even voice, "we're wantin' a warrant for the arrest of Bill Dunlavey. The charge is stealin' cattle. Of course you'll issue it," he added insinuatingly.

Watkins's face slowly paled. "Why----" he began.

"Of course I knowed you wouldn't do it when I asked you," said Allen with a dangerously soft smile. "That's why I come down here. This town's got a sheriff an' it ain't. I wouldn't care a d.a.m.n if it didn't have you. There's lots of folks wouldn't care either. So that if you're one of them which does care you're settin' right still an' not sayin'

anything which can be construed as talk till my friend here goes down to the station." He whispered to Hollis. "Be middlin' rapid," he said aloud afterward, "an' use my name." He turned to Watkins with a smile. "While we're waitin' I'll do some talkin'," he said. "But if you let out one little wee chirp them folks which don't care about you bein' sheriff of this man's town will sure have a heap of cause to rejoice."

Hollis was already far down the street toward the station. When he got there the station was dark--evidently the agent had gone to bed. Hollis pounded heavily on the door and presently the agent opened it, appearing in his night shirt, a heavy six-shooter in hand, his eyes blinking.

"My name is Hollis," said the latter from the darkness; "I want you to telegraph the governor."

"Come in." The agent disappeared within, Hollis following. "This way,"

he directed, as he disappeared through another door leading into the station, his night shirt flapping about his lean legs. "What you wantin'

to telegraph?" he questioned, as he seated himself before the instrument and looked up at Hollis. And then, before the latter could answer he continued: "You're the durndest man to stir up a muss I ever, seen in my life!"

Hollis smiled grimly as he seized a blank and wrote his message to the governor:

"Cattle thieves caught red-handed. Sheriff refuses to act.

Crisis. Suggest you appoint me temporarily.

BEN ALLEN"

The agent took the message, read it, and then monotonously began to drum on the keys of his instrument.

Hollis found it impossible to sit still and so he nervously paced up and down the room during the sending of the message. The agent finished and, leaned his head sleepily on the table.

"Ought to answer in half an hour--if he's home," he informed Hollis.

Upon which Hollis slipped out of the door and returned down the street to the sheriff's office, peering within Watkins still sat at the table and in a chair near him lounged Allen, talking volubly. Hollis watched for a time and then returned to the station to find the agent asleep beside his instrument. Hollis had scarcely awakened him when the sounder began its monotonous ticking. He leaned over the agent's shoulder and read the governor's answer as the agent sleepily wrote it down.

"Ben Allen: You are hereby appointed sheriff of Union County in place of W. Watkins, dismissed. Have Judge certify,"

"I reckon there must be somethin' goin' on," remarked the agent. "What's the matter with Bill----"

But Hollis had s.n.a.t.c.hed the message from his hand and was out into the street in an instant and running down toward the sheriff's office. When he arrived there Allen was still talking. He pa.s.sed the telegram to him and the latter rose to his feet and smiled at Watkins, shoving the message under his nose.

"You can read her," he said. "Then you can go home an' quit sheriffin'--after I've got through with you. You've been called down to the court house. I'm takin' you, chargin' you with bein' an accessory before the fact, or somethin' like that. It don't make no difference what it is, you're goin' with me." His voice came sharp and chill: "Jump!"

Judge Graney had dressed himself by the time the three arrived at the court house and Watkins was roughly tumbled into the room which had been set aside as the jail. Then the judge led Hollis and Allen into the court room where he issued Allen's certificate of appointment.

"Now, I reckon we won't have no trouble in gettin' the soldiers," he grinned. "This sheriff is goin' to act!"

CHAPTER x.x.x

FORMING A FRIENDSHIP

At three o'clock in the afternoon Hollis closed his desk and announced to Potter that he was going to the Circle Bar. Potter watched him with a fond smile as he went out the door and placed the saddle on his pony, mounted and rode into the sunshine of the afternoon. The presence of the troopers in town had created a sensation and most of the town's citizens were gathered about the court house, curiously watching Dunlavey and several of his men who had been taken into custody during the early hours of the morning. Neither Hollis or Norton had been allowed to partic.i.p.ate in the final scene, the little captain informing them curtly that the presence of civilians at what promised to be a free-for-all fight was strictly forbidden. And so Norton had returned to the Circle Bar, while Hollis had gone to Dry Bottom to finish an article for the next issue of the _Kicker_.

It had been in that bald, gray time between darkness and dawn when Ben Allen and Hollis, riding at the head of the detail of troopers beside the dapper little captain, had arrived at the edge of the b.u.t.te where Hollis had directed Norton to await his coming.

Norton's only comment upon seeing the troopers had been: "Where in h.e.l.l did them come from?"

He told Allen that he had watched where Dunlavey and his men had driven the cattle, and that he would find them concealed in a narrow defile between two hills about a mile on the other side of the Rabbit-Ear. He and Hollis had announced their intention to accompany the troop to the scene, but had been refused permission by the captain.

The capture of the thieves had been quite a simple matter. In single file the troopers had descended the slope of the river, crossed a shallow, and clattered up the other side. A mile dash at a gallop had brought them to one end of the defile mentioned by Norton, and in a grove of fir-balsam the captain had deployed his troopers and swooped suddenly down into the defile, surprising several men, who with Dunlavey, were busily at work altering the brands on the cattle they had stolen. There was a fire near the center of the defile, with branding irons scattered about it.

The stolen cattle bore various brands. There were perhaps a dozen belonging to the Circle Bar, several from the Pig Pen; others bore the brands of the Three Bar and the Diamond Dot.

Proof of Dunlavey's guilt had been absolute. He had made some resistance, but had been quickly overpowered by Allen and the troopers.

Then with their prisoners the troops had returned to Dry Bottom.

Hollis rode slowly toward the Circle Bar. He was tired--dead tired. When he arrived at the Hazelton cabin the shade on the porch looked so inviting that he dismounted, tied his pony to one of the slender porch columns, and seated himself, leaning wearily against the column to which he had tied his pony.

He sat there long, staring at a clump of nondescript weed that fringed the edge of the arroyo near the cabin, his thoughts filled with pictures of incidents that had occurred to him during his stay in the West.

Nellie Hazelton appeared in every one of these pictures and therefore he smiled often.

He had not liked the country when he had first come here; it had seemed to offer him no field for the pursuit of his ambition. Certainly the raising of cattle had never entered into his scheme of things. Yet he now realized that there was plenty of room in this country for success in this particular industry; all a man had to do was to keep up his end until the law came. And now the law had come and he had been partly responsible for its coming. The realization of this moved his lips into a grim smile.

He filled and lighted his pipe, smoking placidly as he leaned against the slender column, his gaze shifting to a clump of dense shrubbery that skirted the trail within twenty feet of the cabin. He sat quiet, his long legs stretched out to enjoy the warmth of the sun that struck a corner of the porch floor. His pipe spluttered in depletion and he raised himself and looked around for his pony, observing that the animal was contentedly browsing the tops of some weeds at the edge of the porch. Then, resigning himself to the sensation of languor that oppressed him, he knocked the ash from the pipe, filled it again, lighted it, and resumed his former reclining position.

During the past few days he had given much thought to Dunlavey. He was thinking of the man now, as his gaze went again to the clump of shrubbery that skirted the trail.

Some men's mental processes were incomprehensible. Dunlavey was one of these men. What did the man hope to gain by defying the law? Would there not be profit enough in the cattle business when conducted honestly?

He felt a certain contempt for the man, but mingled with it was a sort of grim pity. No doubt Dunlavey felt justified in his actions, for he had lived here a good many years, no doubt suffering the privations encountered by all pioneers; living a hard life, dealing heavy blows to his enemies, and receiving some himself. No doubt his philosophy of life had been of the peculiar sort practiced by the feudal barons of the Old World, before civilization had come, carrying its banner of justice, which, summed up epigrammatically, though ironically, had been "Might is Right." But might could never be right in this country. Dunlavey must learn this lesson; he could not hope to--!