"I don't think much of him, anyhow," he said stubbornly.
"I guess he'll be able to live that down," said Hetty.
"Where does this here party live? A stoodent, you said he was?"
"Sure"—using her handkerchief again. "He's studying at a dental school in Chicago. Here's his address."
The sheriff did not question her further, but eyed the card she produced, for a long time. That afternoon he spent three sweating hours over some sheets of blue, ruled paper, with very meager results. Here they are:
Mr. Abner Fish, Chicago, Ill.
Dear Sir: I write to say there's a young lady here as seems to be in need of friends from home leastways she's powerful lonely now this here town ain't never had its teeth tended to right chief reason they never wash them I guess. Ha ha.
Say if you ain't laid out any plans better come ahead and start right in here to fix them good. You can come all the way by train except sixty miles by stage the going is good unless Sellers happens to get drunk and runs his mules over the rocks and I'll be pleased to meet you at the terminus, being as I am sheriff I enclose eighty dollars for expenses which is sort of coming to you from the town and you can pay it back when you make it. Well I'll cut this out now it is very hot here.
Yours respectfully,
Lafe Johnson.
P. S. The lady's name it is Miss Hetty Ferrier.
The letter mailed, Johnson took horse and crossed the Border into Sonora. He did not return for ten days and then went straight to his house. The Fashion saw him not. He ate at the Cowboys' Rest, but Hetty knew of his coming an hour after he rode down the street.
When three meals had been served and eaten without Lafe appearing, she put on her hat and went boldly to his house. It was afternoon, and Badger lay in a still, dead torpor under a cruel sky.
"Well?" said Lafe, standing abashed on the threshold.
"Abner Fish is coming," she announced, and that was all she could say.