“I was just a-foolin’,” repeated the captive, and he actually shook with terror. “Ye know, Sheriff, I’m always foolin’.”
Neale looked then with increased interest upon the big man who was approaching. This must be Sheriff Keech, Luke Shepard’s friend.
“So you got the ornery critter, did you?” demanded the county officer, panting from his exertions. “Good boy.”
“Aw, say, now, Sheriff! you know I’m only foolin’,” almost wept the captive.
“Oh, I know you’re the town cut-up, Abe,” growled the sheriff. “But this time you’ll have a chance to think it over in jail. Why!” he added, to Neale, “I knew who this must be the minute Luke Shepard told me about him; and as I saw him come down the road about an hour ago, I had a hunch I’d just about catch him at his capers.”
“Aw, Sheriff,” begged the fellow. “Don’t you be too hard on me. I jest found that star——”
“You are a rascal!” snapped the county officer. “You sent off to a mail-order house and bought that bum badge and just couldn’t keep from flirting around with it. Showing what you thought you’d do if you was a constable. Oh, I’ll put you where the dogs won’t bite you.”
“I—I never collected no money from ’em,” whined the would-be constable.
“No. That’s because I came along just a little too soon. I wish you had got the money. Then I would have had you to rights, sure enough,” declared the sheriff, bitterly.
“Oh, let him go, young man. He won’t run now; for if he does he’ll be resisting arrest, and that’ll fix him with the judge for sure.”