a rusty brown beard, very much on his dignity)
entered the room, followed by a short, bullet-headed citizen in a rumpled
blue suit with a big star on his breast. Behind on the sidewalk Ballard
and a dozen of his gang could be seen. Sam Gregg, the moving cause of this
resurrection of law and order, followed the constable, bursting out big
curses upon his son. "You fool," he began, "I warned you not to monkey
with them sheep. You--"

Higley had the grace to stop that. "Let up on the cuss-words, Sam; there
are ladies present," said he, nodding toward Lee. Then he opened upon
Cavanagh. "Well, sir, what's all this row? What's your charge against
these men?"

"Killing mountain sheep. I caught them with the head of a big ram upon
their pack."

"Make him show his commission," shouted Gregg. "He's never been
commissioned. He's no game warden."

Higley hemmed. "I--ah--Oh, his authority is all right, Sam; I've seen it.
If he can prove that these men killed the sheep, we'll have to act."

Cavanagh briefly related how he had captured the men on the trail. "The
head of the ram is at the livery barn with my horse."

"How about that?" asked Higley, turning to Joe.

"I guess that's right," replied the insolent youth. "We killed the sheep
all right."

Higley was in a corner. He didn't like to offend Gregg, and yet the case
was plain. He met the issue blandly. "Marshal, take these men into
custody!" Then to Ross: "We'll relieve you of their care, Mr. Cavanagh.
You may appear to-morrow at nine."

It was a farcical ending to a very arduous thirty-six-hour campaign, and
Ross, feeling like a man who, having rolled a huge stone to the top of a
hill, has been ordered to drop it, said, "I insist on the maximum penalty
of the law, Justice Higley, especially for this man!" He indicated Joe
Gregg.

"No more sneaking, Higley," added Lize, uttering her distrust in blunt
phrase. "You put these men through or I'll make you trouble."

Higley turned, and with unsteady solemnity saluted. "Fear not my
government, madam," said he, and so made exit.

After the door had closed behind them, Cavanagh bitterly complained. "I've
delivered my prisoners over into the hands of their friends. I feel like a
fool. What assurance have I that they will ever be punished?"

"You have Higley's word," retorted Lize, with ironic inflection. "He'll
fine 'em as much as ten dollars apiece, and confiscate the head, which is
worth fifty."

"No matter what happens