The sheriff was sullen now, as he measured his brother.
“Trade? I’ll tell yuh what I’ll trade—me for you? Get what I mean? No? Then here’s the idea; I’ll be the sheriff, and you lie out here in these hot rocks. I’ve allus wanted to have a chance to boss things a little m’self. You’ve been sheriff for so long that it won’t hurt yuh to let yore brother handle the job for a few hours or days; it’s all accordin’ to how yuh stand the heat. I’ll come out to-morrow and give yuh feed and water. I can alibi that by the fact that I’m lookin’ for the man you didn’t find.
“Yeah, that’s what I said! I never robbed yore bank; never was in Oro City in my life. You trailed the wrong man. I’ve dodged sheriffs from Laredo to Vancouver, but yo’re the first one ever to put the deadwood on me—and for somethin’ I never done! But I’m through dodgin’ for a while, at least as long as I can keep you under cover.
“I’ll jist go down to Oro City and be the sheriff for a while, and what I want you to do right now is to tell me a few things.”
“Tell yuh a few things?” parroted the sheriff.
“Yeah. What’s the name of yore deputy?”
An expression of animal cunning flashed across the sheriff’s face.
“Find out for yourself,” he said.
“Meanin’ that you won’t come through with any information, eh?”
“I’m not tellin’ what I know.”