criminal."

"Cut that talk! Which cowboy are you wantin' to arrest?"

Hawe's manner altered.

"Gene Stewart," he replied, curtly.

"On what charge?"

"Fer killin' a Greaser one night last fall."

"So you're still harpin' on that? Pat, you're on the wrong trail. You
can't lay that killin' onto Stewart. The thing's ancient by now. But
if you insist on bringin' him to court, let the arrest go to-day--we're
hevin' some fiesta hyar--an' I'll fetch Gene in to El Cajon."

"Nope. I reckon I'll take him when I got the chance, before he slopes."

"I'm givin' you my word," thundered Stillwell.

"I reckon I don't hev to take your word, Bill, or anybody else's."

Stillwell's great bulk quivered with his rage, yet he made a successful
effort to control it.

"See hyar, Pat Hawe, I know what's reasonable. Law is law. But in this
country there always has been an' is now a safe an' sane way to proceed
with the law. Mebbe you've forgot that. The law as invested in one
man in a wild country is liable, owin' to that man's weaknesses an'
onlimited authority, to be disputed even by a decent ole cattleman like
myself. I'm a-goin' to give you a hunch. Pat, you're not overliked in
these parts. You've rid too much with a high hand. Some of your deals
hev been shady, an' don't you overlook what I'm sayin'. But you're the
sheriff, an' I'm respectin' your office. I'm respectin' it this much. If
the milk of human decency is so soured in your breast that you can't hev
a kind feelin', then try to avoid the onpleasantness that'll result from
any contrary move on your part to-day. Do you get that hunch?"

"Stillwell, you're threatenin' an officer," replied Hawe, angrily.

"Will you hit the trail quick out of hyar?" queried Stillwell, in
strained voice. "I guarantee Stewart's appearance in El Cajon any day
you say."

"No. I come to arrest him, an' I'm goin' to."

"So that's your game!" shouted Stillwell. "We-all are glad to get you
straight, Pat. Now listen, you cheap, red-eyed coyote of a sheriff! You
don't care how many enemies you make. You know you'll never get office
again in this county. What do you care now? It's amazin' strange how
earnest you are to hunt down the man who killed that particular Greaser.
I reckon there's been some dozen or more killin's of Greasers in the
last year. Why don't you take to trailin' some of them killin's? I'll
tell you why. You're afraid to go near the border. An' your hate of Gene
Stewart makes you