Well, all of a sudden the setter give up the ship and tucked his tail between his legs and scooted, with the shepherd after him lickety-split. When they was gone and we looked at the peg and the horseshoes there wasn’t anything left to argue about. Those dogs had kicked them galley west and come nigh to digging up the peg. It was a fine thing for both those men, because it gave them something to argue about all the rest of their lives, with no chance of having the argument settled. I’ll bet that in ten years they’ll still be slanging and sassing each other about that game, each of them insisting his horseshoe was the nearest. That’s the kind of old coots they are.
Well, it gave Mark his chance to speak to Whoppleham, and he done so.
“Mr. Sheriff,” says he, “kin I s-s-speak to you for a m-minute?”
“I’m busy,” says the sheriff.
“This is official b-b-business,” says Mark.
“Oh!... Hum!... Official, eh? Somebody been breakin’ the law hereabouts? Out with it, young feller. Sheriff Whoppleham’s the man for you.” He pointed down to the star on his suspenders and says: “The people has confidence in me, I guess, or they wouldn’t never have put me into this here position of trust and confidence. I guess they knew who would be able to clean out the criminals of these parts. They knowed a venturesome man when they seen one, and a man that wouldn’t stop at nothin’ in the int’rests of justice. What crime’s been did, and who done it?”
“We want to s-s-speak about George Piggins,” says Mark.
“Have you seen that there crim’nal? Eh? Where’s he hidin’? I know he’s dangerous and desprit, but be I hesitatin’? Be I timid? I guess not. Sheriff Whoppleham would be willin’ to face Jesse James and drag him to jail by the whiskers. Lucky for them Western bandits I never went out there to mix in. I’d have cleaned ’em up perty quick.”
“We don’t know where he is,” says Mark, “but we want to talk to you about f-f-fixin’ up that hog-stealin’ so he can come home and not be molested.”
“Fix it? How?”