"Horrible!" said Anastacio.
Matthew Lisner, sheriff of Dona Ana, bent a hard eye on his subordinate.
"It's got to be done," he urged. "To elect our ticket we must have all the respectable and responsible people of the valley. If we can provoke Foy into an outbreak——"
"Not we—you," corrected Anastacio. "Myself, I do not feel provoking."
"Are you going to lay down on me?"
"If you care to put it that way—yes. Kit Foy is just the man to leave alone."
"Now, listen!" said the sheriff impatiently. "Half the valley is owned by newcomers, men of substance, who, with the votes they influence or control, will decide the election. Foy is half a hero with them, because of these vague old stories. But let him be stirred up to violence now and you'll see! They won't see any romance in it—just an open outrage; they will flock to us to the last man. Ours is the party of law and order—"
"Law to order, some say."
The veins swelled in the sheriff's heavy face and thick neck; he regarded his deputy darkly.
"That comes well from you, Barela! Don't you see, with the law on our side all these men of substance will be with us unconditionally? I tell you, Christopher Foy is the brains of his party. Once he is discredited—"