"I couldn't add nothin' to what you've just said." He idly kicked the
gray dust that was mounded at his feet, standing loose and inert, as
though he cared little what might be the outcome of this impromptu
interview. And then, suddenly, his blue eyes twinkled humorously as he
raised them to meet the sheriff's.

"Give you time you might tell me where I spent the money," he said
drily. "There's no tellin' where your theorizin' might end."

The sheriff ignored this, but he eyed his prisoner meditatively.

"There's been a rumor," he said coldly, "that you've got cracked on my
daughter, Mary Jane. But I ain't never been able to properly confirm it.
I meant to tell you some time ago that while I ain't had no objection to
livin' in the same town with you, I'm some opposed to havin' you for a
son-in-law. But now, since the express robbery, it won't be necessary
for me to tell you not to nose around my house, for you're goin' to ride
straight out of Socorro County, an' you ain't comin' back any more. If
you do, I reckon you'll discover that Socorro's present leniency ain't
elastic enough to be stretched to cover your home-comin'."

"I ain't sayin' nothin'," said Texas, glancing with pensive eyes to a
point far up the sun-baked street where his gaze rested upon a
pretentious house in a neatly-fenced yard where there were green things
that gave a restful impression. "Circumstantial evidence is sure
convincin'." he sighed deeply. "I reckon you knowed all along that I
thought a heap of Mary Jane. That's the reason you picked me out for the
express job."

He scowled as his eyes took in the meagre details of Socorro's one
street. Because of long association these details had become mental
fixtures. Socorro had been his home for ten years, and in ten years
things grow into a man's heart. And civic pride had been his one great
virtue. If in the summer the alkali dust of the street formed into
miniature hills of grayish white which sifted into surrounding hollows
under the whipping tread of the cow-pony's hoofs, Texas likened it unto
ruffled waters that seek a level. The same condition in another town
would have drawn a curse from him. If in the winter the huge windrows of
caked mud stretched across the street in unlovely phalanx, Texas was
reminded of itinerant mountain ranges. The stranger who would be so
unwary as to take issue with him on this point would regret--if he
lived. The unpainted shanties, the huddled, tottering dives,