“What does that matter to you?” asked the girl. “Why are you so inquisitive?”
He maintained his calm tone of mild authority. “I’m the sheriff of Uinta County, ma’am, and I’m looking for a man who’s been hiding out in this basin. I was trailin’ him close when the snow came on yesterday, and I didn’t know but what these tracks was his.”
Peggy turned toward Alice with an involuntary expression of enlightenment, and the sheriff read it quickly. Slipping between the two women, he said:
“Jest a minute, miss. What sort of a looking man was this Smith?”
Alice took up the story. “He was rather small and dark—wasn’t he, Peggy?”
Peggy considered. “I didn’t notice him particularly. Yes, I think he was.”
The man outside called: “Hurry up, Cap. It’s beginning to snow again.”
The sheriff withdrew toward the door. “You’re both lying,” he remarked without heat, “but it don’t matter. We’ll mighty soon overhaul this man on the horse—whoever he is. If you’ve been harboring Hall McCord we’ll have to take you, too.” With that threat as a farewell he mounted his horse and rode away.
Peggy turned to Alice. “Did you know that young fellow was an outlaw?”
“Yes: I saw his picture and description on a placard in the railway station. I recognized him at once.”