“I’ve thought of that, and I’d like to do it,” he said earnestly. “But, pshaw, who will give me a try in this country?” he asked bitterly. Then he added softly: “And I won’t leave these parts, not now.”
“You won’t have to leave the country,” replied the sheriff. “Why not try Blake, of the Star C?” he asked. “Blake is a shore square man, and he’s a good friend of mine, too.”
“Yes, I reckon he is square,” replied The Orphan. “But he won’t take no stock in me, not a bit.”
“Tell him that you’re a friend of mine, and that I sent you to punch for him, and see,” responded Shields, examining his cinch.
“Do you mean that, Sheriff?” the other cried in surprise.
“Hell, yes!” answered Shields gruffly. “I’ll give you a note to him, and if you watch your business you’ll be his right-hand man in a month. I ain’t making any mistake.”
“By God, I’ll do it!” cried the outlaw. “You’re all right, Sheriff!”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” replied Shields, grinning broadly. “Mebby I just can’t see the use of us shooting each other up, and that is what it will come to if things go on as they are, you know. I’d a blamed sight rather have you behaving yourself with Blake than bothering me with your fool nonsense and raising the devil all the time. Why, it’s got so that every place I go I sort of looks for flower pots!”
The Orphan laughed: “I shore had a fine time that night!”
When half way to the Limping Water the sheriff said good-by to Bill and wheeled, facing in the direction of the Cross Bar-8.