Kern was no psychologist, but he knew that some men out of their peculiar element are like fish out of water. He shook his head.
"Walk out that back door, will you?" he asked softly.
"We ain't going down the street?" demanded Arizona.
"No."
"Thanks, sheriff."
Again Kern shuddered, swallowed, and then commanded: "Start along,
Arizona."
Slinking through the door, the fat man hesitated on the little porch and cast a quick glance up and down.
"No one near!" he said. "Hurry up, sheriff."
Quickly they skirted down behind the houses—not unseen, however. A small boy playing behind his father's house raised his head to watch the hurrying pair, and when he saw the glitter of the irons, they heard him gasp. He was old enough to know the meaning of that. Irons on Arizona, who had been a town hero the night before! They saw the youngster dart around the house.
"Blast him!" groaned Arizona. "He'll spread it everywhere. Hurry!"