"You've done it now," exclaimed Judge Driver.
"What particular thing have you on your mind?" Tip queried equably.
"The sheriff you were so set on having elected! Oh, yes, says you, put in an honest man. Give the dear people a bone to chew on. And we took your advice and gave 'em their bone. And now look at the damn thing."
"What's happened to the sheriff?"
"Not a thing. I wish something would. It's what's happening to us that bothers me. Your fine li'l love of a sheriff is appointing his own deputies."
"The law gives him that privilege."
"You don't understand. I had picked two deputies for him to appoint—good safe men. You know that part was left to me, and I fixed on Johnson and Kenealy. This morning I mentioned their names to the new sheriff. 'I thank you kindly for your good intentions,' says Bill, or words to that effect, 'but I have already decided to appoint Shotgun Shillman and Riley Tyler.'"
"What?"
"I'd say what! I'd say hell, I would! Ain't it nice, ain't it funny, ain't it a pretty state of affairs? And what are you going to do about it?"
"Has he appointed 'em yet?"