“No, thanks. I like candy.”
“Ah, not vinegar.”
“Nor––nor––pigs.”
Broad turned to the grey-headed postmaster with a loud guffaw.
“She seems to have sized Grey up pretty slick.”
Outside in the hall the two men donned their furs and over-shoes. Fortunately for Grey’s peace of mind there was no one else about. The bar-tender was sweeping the office out, but he did not pause in his work. Outside the front door the livery-stable man was holding the horses. Grey took his seat to drive, and wrapped the robes well about him. It was a bitterly cold morning. Robb was just about to climb in beside him when a ginger-headed man clad in a pea-jacket came running from the direction of the Town Hall. He waved one arm vigorously, clutching in his hand a piece of paper. Robb saw him first.
“Something for me, as sure as a gun. Hold on, Grey,” he said. “It’s Sutton, the sheriff. I wonder what’s up?”
The ginger-headed man came up breathlessly.
“Thought I was going to miss you, Chillingwood. A message from the Mayor. ‘Doc’ Ridley sends word that the United States marshal has got that horse-thief, Le Mar, over the other side. You’ll have to make out the papers for bringing him over. I’ve got to go and fetch him at once.”
“But, hang it, man, I can’t do them now,” exclaimed Robb.