"Bury th' clothes," suggested Cookie, grinning.
"I like yore gall! Which clothes are best, Pete's or Billy's?"
"Pete's would fit you like th' wide, wide world. You don't want blankets on when you go courtin'. Try Billy's. An' I got a pair of socks, though one 's green—but th' boots 'll hide it."
"I did n't put none on my socks, you chump!"
"How'd I know? But, say! Has she got any sisters?"
"No!" yelled Johnny, halfway through the gallery in search of Billy's clothes. When he emerged Cookie looked him over. "Ain't it funny, Kid, how a pipe 'll stink up clothes?" he smiled. Johnny's retort was made over several yards of ground and when he had mounted Cookie yelled and waved him to return. When Johnny had obeyed and impatiently demanded the reason, Cookie pleasantly remarked: "Now, be shore an' give her my love, Kid."
Johnny's reply covered half a mile of trail.
Johnny rode alertly through Perry's Bend, for Sheriff Nolan was no friend of his; and Nolan was not only a discarded suitor of Miss Joyce, but a warm personal friend of George Greener, the one rival Johnny feared. Greener was a widower as wealthy as he was unscrupulous, and a power on that range: when he said "jump," Nolan soared.
The sheriff was standing before the Palace saloon when Johnny rode past, and he could not keep quiet. His comment was so judiciously chosen as to bring white spots on Johnny's flushed cheeks. The Bar-20 puncher was not famed for his self-control, and, wheeling in the saddle, he pointed a quivering forefinger at Mr. Nolan's badge of office, so conspicuously displayed: "Better men than you have hid behind a badge and banked on a man's regard for th' law savin' 'em from their just deserts. Politics is a h—l of a thing when it opens th' door to anything that might roll in on th' wind. You come down across th' line tomorrow an' see me, without th' nickel-plated ornament you disgraces," he invited. "Any dog can tell a lie in his kennel, but it takes guts to bark outside th' yard."
Mr. Nolan flushed, went white, hesitated, and walked away. To fight in defense of the law was his duty; but no sane man warred on the Bar-20 unless he must. Mr. Nolan was a man whose ideas of necessity followed strange curves, and not to his credit. One might censure Mr. Cassidy or Mr. Connors, or pick a fight with some of the others of that outfit and not get killed; but he must not harm their protégé. Mr. Nolan not only walked away but he sought the darkest shadows and held conversation with himself. If it were only possible to get the pugnacious and very much spoiled Mr. Nelson to fracture, smash, pulverize some law! This, indeed, would be sweet.