Appleton woke early the next morning. Some one shouted and then fired a pistol. The populace gathered at windows and doors rubbing sleepy eyes which a moment later shone wide awake, and yawns turned into yells of laughter, for down the middle of Appleton’s one street came the sheriff. He was sitting the roan horse, with his feet tied below the girth, and his hands tied behind his back. And even the weary roan seemed to feel in his drooping head the defeat of his rider.
Upon the back of the sheriff was a large piece of cardboard, upon which was printed in large letters the following:
I’m sending this back with my signature in token of a pleasant evening in my home in Eagle Head Cañon. I’m sorry to announce that I’m moved. Slim Malone.
Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the June 14, 1919 issue of All-Story Weekly magazine.