“It might give Mr. Pelly an idea for a new editorial,” laughed Henry. “The Shame of Arizona on Yellow Wheels.”
“Anyway,” sighed Judge, “it is money wasted. Those prune-juicers at the JHC have no regard for property. I shudder to think what that buckboard will look like in a week.”
“Well,” said Henry soberly, “when I told Frijole what I had ordered, he said that he would protect it with his life. Frijole, I believe, likes nice things. Slim also has a feeling for art. Why, I’ve seen him stand for long periods of time in front of that picture in the King’s Castle, studying it intently.”
“What picture?” asked Judge curiously.
“The one at the end of the bar-room, Judge. A beer advertisement, I believe. It depicts a member of the female sex, leaning over a rock, peering into a spring. Rather nicely done, too.”
“Oh, that!” snorted Judge. “I happened to note Slim Pickins studying the print at close range, and I asked him if he was interested in the technique of the artist, and he said, ‘Hell, no! I’m tryin’ to see what she’s a-lookin’ at.’”
Henry grinned slowly. “Maybe Slim is a realist, Judge.”
John Campbell dropped in and they discussed the inquest for a while, but finally Campbell said:
“You probably don’t know it yet, Henry, but the Commissioners are holding a special meeting tomorrow afternoon at Scorpion Bend. I have not been asked to attend.”
Henry looked at the big lawyer thoughtfully, but did not comment. The implication was plain. They were going to decide to ask for his resignation.