“Looks like Blaze had made another mistake, eh?” observed Marsh.
“I’d hate to think so,” replied Buck. “Mebbe he can explain.”
“Let him explain in jail,” said Marsh. “I’ll send him back to the pen so quick it would make your hair curl. Have him here to-morrow morning at ten o’clock, Gillis.”
“You ain’t runnin’ my office, Marsh. If I think the evidence is strong enough, I’ll bring him in. If it ain’t, I won’t. If you swear out a warrant, I’ll have to serve it, of course. And while yo’re talkin’ out loud about it, you better ask yore kid where he lost his pants.”
“You don’t think he’d rob his father, do you, Gillis?”
“I’m not sayin’ what I think. But I’m goin’ out to talk with Blaze in the mornin’.”
“Yes, and you bring him in, if I can get a warrant to-night.”
He managed to arouse a justice of the peace, who grumblingly wrote out a warrant for Blaze Nolan, gave it to the sheriff, and went back to bed. Buck cursed witheringly, berated Bad News, for want of somebody else to berate, and slept the rest of the night on a single cot with Bad News.
Cultus saw the sheriff leave town the next morning, but did not know his mission until he met Bad News, who told him about the coming of Kendall Marsh and the writing of the warrant.
“Do you think Blaze had anythin’ to do with that robbery?” asked Bad News. “It shore looked all twisted up to me. I can’t see head nor tail to it.”