"Huh!" was the only response to his question. "Jones!"
Then, with their horses neck to neck the two rode over the bridge together and for the second time entered the town to which Buffalo Bill has given his name, Cody. On the other side of the bridge, near the dust-deep road, stood a tent. The flap was fastened back, and, within, seated about a rough table, sat four men playing cards. When the sound of horses’ hoofs reached the players, one of them arose and came to the tent’s opening.
It was Sandy McKenzie.
The sheriff, still regarding Ross, did not look toward the tent, while Ross, excited over the prospect of meeting Leslie’s father, and confused by his recent misspeech, scarcely bestowed a moment’s thought on Sandy, whom he had known was in Cody and believed to be the instigator of the arrest. He glanced, however, within the tent as they passed and recognized Waymart. The man sitting next, his back to the open flap, his face bent over the cards in his hand, one leg stretched out under the table, looked strangely familiar to the boy, but he was too preoccupied to give him any attention. The fourth man, his face turned toward the riders, was a stranger.
A moment later, a man took the horses in front of "The Irma," and the sheriff with his prisoner walked into the lobby and up to the desk. Picking up the pen, the sheriff thrust it into Ross’s hand.
"Register for yourself," he commanded briefly.
Ross hesitated, glanced at the waiting clerk, glanced at the suspicious face of the sheriff and then, with a shaking hand, wrote: "Ross Grant, Junior," and laid the pen down.
The sheriff drew the register toward him with a slowly purpling face.
"That’s my name," declared Ross. He spoke defensively, yet with a ring of exultation in his voice. "You haven’t asked me for it before."
The blood dropped out of the sheriff’s face. The shivers ran down Ross’s spine at the anger in his face.