"Sheriff Corwin wants to see you," said the puncher. "His business is so delicate it might die before mornin'."
"All right," grumbled the trail-boss. "If you get out of his way mebby he can come in."
Corwin stood in the vacated door, smiling, but too wise to offer his hand to the blunt, grim host. "Got good news," he said, "for you, me, an' th' T & C."
"Ya-as?" drawled McCullough, peering out beneath his bushy, gray eyebrows. "Pecos Kane shoot hisself?"
"We got th' fellers that robbed th' bank an' shot Ridley," said the sheriff.
"The h—l you say!" exclaimed McCullough. "Come in an' set down. Who are they? How'd you get 'em?"
"That reward stick?" asked Corwin anxiously.
"Tighter'n a tick to a cow!" emphatically replied the trail-boss. "Who are they?"
"I got a piece of paper here," said the sheriff, proving his words. He stepped inside and placed it on the table. "Read it over an' sign it. Then I'll fill in th' blanks with th' names of th' men. If they're guilty, I'm protected; if I've made a mistake, then there's no harm done."
McCullough slowly read it aloud: