"Now he will submit to arrest," exclaimed Curtis. "His fine frenzy is gone."
"I'm sorry," Elsie soberly exclaimed. "Must you give him up to that stupid sheriff?"
"Yes, it must be done," replied Curtis. "My only claim to consideration lies in executing the law. I fought lawlessness with the promise that when the sheriff came with proper warrant I would act."
As the young officer went back to his duties the head-lines of the papers he had but glanced at began to burn into his brain. Hitherto his name had been most inconspicuous; only once or twice had it achieved a long-primer setting; mainly it had kept to the security and dignity of brevier notices in the Army and Navy Journal. Now here it stood, blazoned in ill-smelling ink on wood-pulp paper, in letters half an inch in height:
CURTIS CULPABLE
THE AGENT SHIELDS HIS PETS
while in the editorial columns of the Copper City papers similar accusations, though adroitly veiled, were none the less apparent. He had smiled at all this in the presence of his friends, but inwardly he shrank from it just as he would have done had some tramp in the street flung a handful of gutter slime across the breast of his uniform. A gust of rage made his teeth clinch and his face burn hot, and he entered his office with lowering brows.
Wilson looked up with a grin. "Well, Major, the politicians are getting in their work on us."
"This is only the beginning. We may expect an army of reporters to complete the work of misrepresentation."
"The wonder is they haven't got here before. They must be really nervous. Crane says the people in town have very bad hearts. As near as I can make out they faced him up and threatened his life. He says the mob is hanging round the edge of the reservation crazy for blood. He got shy and took to the hills."
"Did he see the sheriff?"