."

At this slow telling of the most prominent names in the southwest cattle
industry Tom Thorne took a step into the room and lighted a match. The
little flame, held high above his head, burned down to his fingers while
he stared at the impassive faces surrounding him. Probably he had
thought to interfere dutifully in a local affair of considerable
seriousness; and there is no doubt that Tom Thorne was never afraid of
his duty. But here was Arizona itself gathered for purposes of its own.
He hardly noticed when the flame scorched his fingers.

"Tom," said Buck Johnson after a moment, "I heerd tell of a desperate
criminal headed for Grant's Pass, and I figure you can just about catch
up with him if you start right now and keep on riding. Only you'd better
make me your deputy first. It'll sort of leave things in good legal
responsible hands, as you can always easy point out if asked."

Tom gulped.

"Raise your right hand," he commanded, curtly, and administered the
oath. "Now I leave it in your hands to preserve the peace," he
concluded. "I call you all to witness."

"That's all right, Tom," said Buck, still in his crooning tones, taking
the big sheriff by the elbow and gently propelling him toward the door,
"now as to this yere criminal over toward Grant's Pass, he was a little
bit of a runt about six foot three tall; heavy set, weight about a
hundred and ten; light complected with black hair and eyes. You can't
help but find him. Tom's a good sort," he observed, coming back, "but
he's young. He don't realize yet that when things get real serious this
sheriff foolishness just nat'rally bogs down. Now I reckon we'd better
talk to the girl."

I made a beeline for the cook house while they did that and filled up
for three. By the time I had finished, the conference was raised, and
men were catching and saddling their mounts. I did not intend to get
left out, you may be sure, so I rustled around and borrowed me a saddle
and a horse, and was ready to start with the rest.

We jogged up the road in a rough sort of column, the old timers riding
ahead in a group of their own. No injunction had been laid as to keeping
quiet; nevertheless, conversation was sparse and low voiced. The men
mostly rode in silence smoking their cigarettes. About half way the
leaders summoned me, and I trotted up to join them.

They wanted to know about the situation of the ranch as I had observed
it. I could not encourage them much. My recolle