CHAPTER XXIX
THE ARM OF THE LAW
The lights in Dry Bottom’s saloons were flickering brightly when Hollis rode down the street and dismounted from his drooping pony in front of the court house. He ran stiffly around the side of the building and knocked loudly on a door. There was a short silence and then a movement inside and Ben Allen stuck his head out of a window. He saw at a glance the upward turned face of the nocturnal visitor and called shortly: “Wait! I’ll be down!”
There was a short wait, during which Hollis impatiently paced back and forth and then Allen appeared in the door, fully dressed. Judge Graney, in a night shirt, stood behind him.
“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—”
“Hell!” broke in Allen. “We know he won’t do anything!”