"Just so, son. That's where my figuring stopped, likewise. Too much
open country. If you once threw a leg over that blue roan, I can see
where some of us would do some riding."
"If I'd been thinkin' of leavin' you, it would 'a' been afore we got
here, sheriff."
"So it's 'sheriff' now, and not Jim, eh?"
"It sure is--if you're thinkin' o' lockin' me up. You treated me white
back there in El Paso--so I'm tellin' you that if you lock me up--and I
git a chanct, I'll sure vamose."
Pete's assertion did not seem to displease the sheriff in the least.
To the contrary, he smiled affably.
"That's fair enough. And if I _don't_ lock you up, but let you stay
over to the hotel, you'll hang around town till this thing is settled,
eh?"
"I sure will."
"Will you shake on that?"
Pete thrust out his hand. "That goes, Jim."
"Now you're talking sense, Pete. Reckon you better run along and see
what the Doc wants. He's waving to you."
Andover sat in his car, drawing on his gloves. "I've arranged to have
the horse shipped to me by express. If you don't mind, I wish you
would see that he is loaded properly and that he has food and water
before the car leaves--that is"--and Andover cleared his throat--"if
you're around town tomorrow.
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