`Oh, I guess not,' Nick replied. 'On'y the good die young an' I'm bad--terrible bad.'
They proceeded to Merker's, the owner of which greeted them with, `Nick, you can crowd yore luck too close.' The warning of a well-wisher, an explanation was due. `I came into town on my own affairs,' the nester replied quietly. `Then I hear a man is anxious to see me. I don't like disappointin' folks.'
`He thinks he has you,' Merker said.
`He's thought that before,' Nick smiled, and glanced about him. `Midway 'pears to be thirsty.'
`No--curious,' was the meaning answer.
So that was it; those present knew what was afoot, and had gathered to see the fun--if any. A stirring apprised him that something was happening. He turned his head. The sheriff marched in, followed by a lanky, hawk-faced fellow carrying a sawed-off shot-gun, which, spraying its load of buckshot, made missing, at short range, well-nigh impossible. This individual, whose eyes seemed to have a permanent difference of opinion, and in consequence, was generally known as Wall-eye,' was the newly-appointed deputy to the peace-officer. The pair halted in front of the nester and his companions.
Drait broke the silence: `Hired yoreself a bodyguard, Stinker?'
The sheriff's reply was addressed to his assistant. `If any o' them guys makes a move, let fly.'
`If he does, you'll wake in the next world, Camort.' This from the saloon-keeper, who leaning forward on the bar, had a forty-five in his fist, trained directly on the man he warned. `An' I don't mean--mebbe,' he added.
The sheriff glared. Merker was a quiet man who minded his business, but was known to be impatient of interference, as more than one obstreperous customer had discovered; he did not waste breath on empty threats.
'Yo're obstructin' me in the execution o' my dooty,' Camort blustered. `I represent the Law.'
`Mebbe--it's usually described as an ass,' Merker replied coolly. `Anyway, you don't turn a riot-gun loose on my premises. I'm rememberin' that time when you blinded a man, an' then tried to down him.'
The other's face was venomous. `I ain't forgettin' this, Merker.'
`Which you'd better not. Now, spit yore poison, an' fade.' `Suits me. I got a warrant, signed by the Judge, for the arrest o' this jasper, Drait.'
The jasper in question received the news with a sober nod. `On what charge?' he asked.
Waylayin' an' murderin' Bull Bardoe,' Camort exulted. `Is that all?'
`You'll find it a-plenty.' He addressed the audience. `Bull was found over a week back by some of his own men up on the Table Mesa trail, shot through the head.'
`Very sad,' Nick murmured. `Did he say I killed him?' `How?' the sheriff began, and then saw the twinkle in the nester's eyes. `Funny man, huh? Well, have yore laugh while you can. The Judge will hold the trial this afternoon, an' by sunset you'll be swingin' high an' dry.'
`Fast work, Stinker,' the accused retorted. `What are you afraid of?' Getting no answer, he went on, `You gotna give me time to prepare my defence an' call a witness.'
`On'y one?' Camort sneered. `Twenty won't help you.'
`Got it all planned out, huh?' Drait smiled. `Yeah, just one--Bull Bardoe hisself.'
He saw the flicker of fear in the man's eyes, and then came a guffaw, too forced to be natural. `I doubt if you'll have time to dig him up.'
Someone thrust aside the door of the saloon, and stood there. `Hi, Stinker, look what's blown into town,' he cried.
Every eye was turned to door or window, to see the familiar figure of Bull Bardoe pace slowly along the street, quite unconscious of the sensation he was causing. The occupants of the saloon gazed in bewilderment, the sheriff's expression was one of rage, and his utterance anything but pious, and Nick Drait grinned. Merker spoke:
`Bull certainly is the most active corpse I ever saw; it don't seem proper for a murdered man to go cavortin' about like that.'
The laughter which followed the irony had little of amusement in it, and Camort realised that he was the recipient of sinister looks; he must do something.
`I've bin misinformed--made a fool of,' he said indignantly.
`Then somebody's wastin' time,' Drait said caustically. `It's a plain enough frame-up, an' that's why you were rushin' things. Bull was to keep under cover until you'd jerked me into the next world. One o' you seems to have slipped up.' He turned to the spectators. `I hope yo're proud o' this dawg you made a sheriff.'
`We ain't, not none,' Pilch growled. `We'd like to hang him a whole lot.'
`It's all a lie,' Camort asserted. `I was told he was dead, an' that the hoss he allus rode was in Drait's corral.'
`Bull's forkin' that same boss right now,' someone pointed out. `I ain't shore we didn't oughta do what Pilch sez.' The ring of threatening faces made the sheriff's heart skip a beat; Western mobs were easily inflamed, and his friends the cattlemen and their outfits were far away.
`I was on'y tryin' to do my dooty,' he protested lamely.
Jeers greeted the statement. The nester stepped forward and took the warrant from the officer's nerveless fingers.
`I'll see Towler myself about this,' he said. `Twice you've planned to put somethin' over on me; the third time won't be lucky--for you. Now, get out.'
`An' stay out,' the saloon-keeper added.
The sheriff and his deputy slouched through the door, and the latter made no secret of his feelings. `It ain't offen I'm glad to leave a saloon, but I'm admittin' this is one o' the times,' he said. `We wasn't a bit pop'lar in there.'
`If it's popularity yo're after you got the wrong joo,' his boss
told him. `As for them sots, they jaw plenty but dasn't do any-thin'. I'd like to give Bull my candid opinion.'
`Shall I find him for you?' Wall-eye offered.
`I can do that for myself--if I want him,' the sheriff said, knowing perfectly well that he would not. He had courage of a kind, but it was not of the quality necessary to bully Bardoe.
The nester and his friends followed soon after, making their way to the Judge's office, which adjoined the court-room, and was part of the gaol building. An unceremonious entrance brought the judicial feet from the desk- top to the ground, and a look of astonishment from their owner as he recognised the leading visitor.
`What are you doing here?' he asked, with as much dignity as a man caught napping might immediately muster.
`Not expectin' me, Towler, huh?'
`Hardly--in this part of the premises,' the Judge retorted. Drait threw the warrant on the desk. `Did you sign that?' `Certainly, it is one of my duties.'
`Do you require proof that the person named may be guilty?' `Evidence is the sheriff's affair; I deal with it when I try the case.'
`Are you aware that Bardoe--the man that paper accuses me of killin'--rode into town, alive an' well, less'n half an hour ago?'
The Judge sat up straight. `Are you insinuating--?'
`No, I'm just tellin' you,' Drait cut in harshly. `In front of twenty others, Camort said I was to be tried an' hanged before sunset--that I hadn't a chance. An' this for a crime which existed on'y in his--an' yore-- imagination.'
`This is an outrage,' Towler spluttered, but his watery eyes dropped before the fierce gaze of the nester. `Shore is,' the latter agreed drily. `Whan you goin' to do about it?'
The Judge re-lighted the stub of a cigar, and remembered that he was an important personaget `I was referring to the insult directed against myself,' he replied. `Any difference you have with the sheriff is no concern of mine.' He was rather proud of this effort.
`An' the recent murder of two men in Shadow Valley is also no concern o' yores?' Drait asked cynically. `I am not here to discover or arrest malefactors,' Towler said disdainfully. `I am answerable only to the Law--'
`An' the Governor who appointed yu,' Sudden reminded.
The Judge looked at this hard-featured man whose cold, level voice he heard for the first time. This must be
