BLAKE settled himself in the easy chair which his host pushed over to him and crossed his feet on the seat of another, and became the personification of contentment. One of the black Perfectos which a friend in the East kept Shields supplied with, was tenderly nursed by his lips, its fragrant smoke slowly issuing from his nose and mouth, yielding its delights to a man who knew a good cigar when he smoked it, and who knew how to smoke it. At his elbow stood a coffee pot, flanked on one side by a plate piled high with gingerbread; on the other by an apricot pie. His eyes half-closed and his arms were folded, and a great peace stole over him. He had the philosopher’s mind which so readily yields to the magic touch of a perfect cigar. In that short space of time he was recompensed for a life of hardships, perils and but few pleasures.They sat each lost in his own thoughts, in a silence broken only by the very low and indistinct hum of women’s voices and the loud ticking of the clock, which soon struck ten. The foreman sighed, stirred to knock the ashes from his cigar, and then slowly reached his hand toward the pie. Shields came to himself and very gravely relighted his cigar, watching the blue smoke stream up over the lamp. He looked at his contented friend for a few seconds and then broke the silence.

“Tom,” he said, “what I’m going to tell you now is all meat. I couldn’t say anything about it while the women were around, for they shore worry a lot and there wasn’t no good in scaring them.

“The Cross Bar-8 outfit got saddled with the idea that they wanted a new sheriff, and four of them didn’t care a whole lot how they made the necessary vacancy. I got word that they were going to pay Bill Howland for the part he played, and on the face of it there wasn’t nothing more than that. It was natural enough that they were sore on him, and that they would try to square matters. Well, of course, I couldn’t let him get wiped out and I took cards in the game. But, Lord, it wasn’t what I reckoned it was at all. He was in for his licking, all right, but he was the little fish–and I was the big one.

“They got Bill in the defile of the Backbone and were going to lynch him–they beat him up shameful. He wouldn’t tell them that I was hand-in-glove with The Orphan, which they wanted to hear, so they tried to scare him to lie, but it was no go.

“Well, I followed Bill and, to make it short, that is just what they had figured on. They posted an outpost to get the drop on me when I showed up, and he got it. Tex Williard seemed to be the officer in charge, and he asked me questions and suggested things that made me fighting mad inside. But I was as cool as I could be apparently, for it ain’t no good to lose your temper in a place like that. I suppose they wanted me to get out on the warpath so they could frame up some story about self-defense. It looked bad for me, with three of them having their guns on me, and Tex Williard had just given me an ultimatum and had counted two, when, d––d if The Orphan didn’t take a hand from up on the wall of the defile. That let me get my guns out, and the rest was easy. We let Bill get square on the gang for the beating he had got, by whipping all of them to the queen’s taste. When they got so they could stand up I told them a few things and ordered them out of the country, and they were blamed glad to get the chance to go, too.

“The Orphan didn’t have to mix up in that, not at all, and it makes the third time he’s put his head in danger to help me or mine, and he took big chances every time. How in h–l can I help liking him? Can I be blamed for treating him white and square when he’s done so much for me? He is so chock full of grit and squareness that I’ll throw up this job rather than to go out after him for his past deeds, and I mean it, too, Tom.”

Blake reached for another piece of pie, held his hand over it in uncertainty and then, changing his mind, took gingerbread for a change.

“Well, I reckon you’re right, Jim,” he replied. “Anyhow, it don’t make a whole lot of difference whether you are or not. You’re the sheriff of this layout, and you’re to do what you think best, and that’s the idea of most of the people out here, too. If you want to experiment, that’s your business, for you’ll be the first to get bit if you’re wrong. And it ain’t necessary to tell you that your friends will back you up in anything you try. Personally, I am rather glad of what you’re doing, for I like that man’s looks, as I said before, and he’ll be just the kind of a puncher I want. He’s a man that’ll fight like h–l for the man he ties up to and who treats him square. If he ain’t, I’m getting childish in my judgment.”

“I sent him to you,” the sheriff continued, “because I wanted to get him in with a good outfit and under a man who would be fair with him. I knew that you would give him every chance in the world. And then Helen takes such an interest in him, being young and sympathetic and romantic, that I wanted to please her if I could, and I can. She’ll be very much pleased now that I’ve given him a start in the right direction and there ain’t nothing I can do for her that is not going to be done. She’s a blamed fine girl, Tom, as nice a girl as ever lived.”

“She shore is–there ain’t no doubt about that!” cried the foreman, and then he frowned slightly. “But have you thought of what all this might develop into?” he asked, leaning forward in his earnestness. “It’s shore funny how I should think of such a thing, for it ain’t in my line at all, but the idea just sort of blew into my head.”

“What do you mean?”“Well, Helen, being young and sympathetic and romantic, as you said, and owing her own life and the lives of her sister and friend, not to mention yours, to him, might just go and fall in love with him, and I reckon that if she did, she would stick to him in spite of hell. He’s a blamed good-looking, attractive fellow, full of energy and grit, somewhat of a mystery, and women are strong on mysteries, and he might nurse ideas about having some one to make gingerbread and apricot pie for him; and if he does, as shore as God made little apples, it’ll be Helen that he’ll want. He’s never seen as pretty a girl, she’s been kind and sympathetic with him, and I’m willing to bet my hat that he’s lost a bit of sleep about her already. Good Lord, what can you expect? She pities him, and what do the books say about pity?”

The sheriff thought for a minute and then looked up with a peculiar light in his eyes.

“For a bachelor you’re doing real well,” he said, still thinking hard.

“Being a bachelor don’t mean that I ain’t never rubbed elbows with women,” replied the foreman. “There are some people that are bachelors because they are too darned smart to get roped and branded because the moon happens to be real bright. But I’ll confess to you that I ain’t a bachelor because I didn’t want to get roped. We won’t say any more about that, however.”

“Well,” said Shields, slowly. “If he tries to get her before I know that he is straight and clean and good enough for her, I’ll just have to stop him any way I can. First of all, I’m looking out for my sister, the h–l with anybody else. But on the other hand, if he makes good and wants her bad enough to rustle for two and she has her mind made up that she’d rather have him than stay single and is head over heels in love with him, I don’t see that there’s anything to worry about. I tell you that he is a good man, a real man, and if he changes like I want him to, she would be a d––d sight better off with him than with some dudish tenderfoot in love with money. He has had such a God-forsaken life that he will be able to appreciate a change like that–he would be square as a brick with her and attentive and loyal–and with him she wouldn’t run much chance of being left a widow. Why, I’ll bet he’ll worship the ground she walks on–she could wind him all around her little finger and he’d never peep. And she would have the best protection that walks around these parts. But, pshaw, all this is too far ahead of the game. How about that herd of cattle you spoke of?”

“I can get you the whole herd dirt cheap,” replied the foreman. “And they are as hungry and healthy a lot as you could wish.”

“Well,” responded the sheriff, “I’ve made up my mind to go ranching again. I can’t stand this loafing, for it don’t amount to much more than that now that The Orphan has graduated out of the outlaw class. I can run a ranch and have plenty of time to attend to the sheriff part of it, too. Ever since I sold the Three-S I have been like a fish out of water. When I got rid of it I put the money away in Kansas City, thinking that I might want to go back at it again. Then I got rid of that mine and bunked the money with the ranch money. The interest has been accumulating for a long time now and I have got something over thirty thousand lying idle. Now, I’m going to put it to work.

“I ran across Crawford last week, and he is dead anxious to sell out and go back East–he don’t like the West. I’ve determined to take the A-Y off his hands, for it’s a good ranch, has good buildings on it, two fine windmills over driven wells, good grass and shelters. Why, he has put up shelters in Long Valley that can’t be duplicated under a thousand dollars. His terms are good–five thousand down and the balance in installments of two thousand a year at three per cent., and I can get over three per cent, while it is lying waiting to be paid to him. He is too blamed sick of his white elephant to haggle over terms. He was foolish to try to run it himself and to sink so much money in driven wells, windmills and buildings–it would astonish you to know how much money he spent in paint alone. What did he know about ranching, anyhow? He can’t hardly tell a cow from a heifer. He said that he knew how to make money earn money in the East, but that he couldn’t make a cent raising cows.

“If The Orphan attends to his new deal I’ll put him in charge and the rest lies with him. I’ll provide him with a good outfit, everything he needs and, if he makes good and the ranch pays, I’ll fix it so he can own a half-interest in it at less than it cost me, and that will give him a good job to hold down for the rest of his life. It’ll be something for him to tie to in case of squalls, but there ain’t much danger of his becoming unsteady, because if he was at all inclined to that sort of thing he would be dead now.

“This ain’t no fly-away notion, as you know. I’ve had an itching for a good ranch for several years, and for just about that length of time I’ve had my eyes on the A-Y. I was going to buy it when Crawford gobbled it up at that fancy price and I felt a little put out when he took up his option on it, but I’m glad he did, now. Why, Reeves sold out to Crawford for almost three times what I am going to pay for it, and it has been improved fifty per cent. since he has had it. But, of course, there was more cattle then than there is now. You get me that herd at a good figure and I’ll be able to take care of them very soon now, just as soon as I close the deal. But, mind you, no Texas cattle goes–I don’t want any Spanish fever in mine.

“I’m thinking some of putting Charley in charge temporarily, just as soon as Sneed gets some men, and when The Orphan takes it over things will be in purty fair shape. I won’t move out there because my wife don’t like ranching–she wants to be in town where she is near somebody, but I’ll spend most of my time out there until everything gets in running order. Oh, yes–in consideration of the five thousand down at the time the papers are signed, Crawford has agreed to leave the ranch-house furnished practically as it is, and that will be nice for Helen and The Orphan if they ever should decide to join hands in double blessedness. You used to have a lot of fun about the high-faluting fixings in your ranch-house, but just wait ’til you see this one! An inside look around will open your eyes some, all right. It is a wonder, a real wonder! Running water from the windmills, a bath-room, sinks in the kitchen, a wood-burning boiler in the cellar, and all the comforts possible. If Crawford tries to move all that stuff back East it would cost him more than he could get for it, and he knows it, too. It’s a bargain at twice the price, and I’m going to nail it. I can’t think of anything else.”

“Well,” replied Blake, “I don’t see how you could do anything better, that’s sure. It all depends on the price, and if you’re satisfied with that, there ain’t no use of turning it down. I know you can make money out there with any kind of attention, for I’m purty well acquainted with the A-Y. And I’ll see about the cattle next week, but you better leave The Orphan stay with me a while longer. My boys are the best crowd that ever lived in a bunk-house, and if he minds his business they’ll smooth down his corners until you won’t hardly know him; and they’ll teach him a little about the cow-puncher game if he’s rusty.

“You remember the time we had that killing out there, don’t you?” Blake asked. “Well, you also remember that we agreed to cut out all gunplay on the ranch in the future, and that I sent East for some boxing gloves, which were to be used in case anybody wanted to settle any trouble. They have been out there for two years now, and haven’t been used except in fun. Give the boys a chance and they’ll cure him of the itching trigger-finger, all right. They’re only a lot of big-hearted, overgrown kids, and they can get along with the devil himself if he’ll let them. But they are hell-fire and brimstone when aroused,” then he laughed softly: “They heard about your trouble with Sneed and they shore was dead anxious to call on the Cross Bar-8 and make a few remarks about long life and happiness, but I made them wait ’til they should be sent for.

“They know all about The Orphan–that is, as much as I did before I called to-night. Joe Haines is a great listener and when he rustles our mail once a week he takes it all in, so of course they know all about it. They had a lot of fun about the way he made the Cross Bar-8 sit up and take notice, for they ain’t wasting any love on Sneed’s crowd. And it took Bill Howland over an hour to tell Joe about his experiences. So when The Orphan met the outfit they knew him to be the man who had saved the sheriff’s sisters, which went a long way with them. Say, Jim,” he exclaimed, “can I tell them what you said about him to-night? Let me tell them everything, for it’ll go far with them, especially with Silent, who had some trouble with the U-B about five years ago. He was taking a herd of about three thousand head across their range and he swears yet at the treatment he got. Yes? All right, it’ll make him solid with the outfit.”

“Tell them anything you want about him,” said the sheriff, “but don’t say anything about the A-Y. I want to keep it quiet for a while.”

Shields poured himself a cup of coffee and then glanced at the clock: “Too late for a game, Tom?” he asked, expectantly.

The foreman laughed: “It’s seldom too late for that,” he replied.“Good enough!” cried his host. “What shall it be this time–pinochle or crib?”

The foreman slowly closed his eyes as he replied: “Either suits me–this feed has made me plumb easy to please. Why, I’d even play casino to-night!”

“Well, what do you say to crib?” asked the sheriff. “You licked me so bad at it the last time you were here that I hanker to get revenge.”

“Well, I don’t blame you for wanting to get it, but I’ll tell you right now that you won’t, for I can lick the man that invented crib to-night,” laughed the foreman. “Bring out your cards.”

Shields placed the cards on the table and arranged things where they would be handy while his friend shuffled the pack.

The foreman pushed the cards toward his host: “There you are–low deals as usual, I suppose.”

“Oh, you might as well go ahead and deal,” grumbled the sheriff good-naturedly. “I don’t remember ever cutting low enough for you–by George! A five!”

Blake picked up the cards and started to deal, but the sheriff stopped him.

“Hey! You haven’t cut yet!” Shields cried, putting his hand on the cards. “What are you doing, anyhow?”

Blake laughed with delight: “Well, anybody that can’t cut lower than a five hadn’t ought to play the game. What’s the use of wasting time?”

“Well, you never mind about the time–you go ahead and beat me,” cried the sheriff. “Of all the nerve!”

Blake picked up the cards again: “Do you want to cut again?” he asked.

“Not a bit of it! That five stands!”

“Well, how would a four do?” asked the foreman, lifting his hand. “It’s a three!” he exulted. “All that time wasted,” he said.

“You go to blazes,” pleasantly replied the sheriff as he sorted his hand. “This ain’t so bad for you, not at all bad; you could have done worse, but I doubt it.” He discarded, cut, and Blake turned a six.

“Seven,” called Shields as he played.

“Seventeen,” replied Blake, playing a queen.

“No you don’t, either,” grinned the sheriff. “You can play that four later if you want to, but not now on twenty-seven. Call it twenty-five,” he said, playing an eight.Blake carefully scanned his hand and finally played the four, grumbling a little as his friend laughed.

“Thirty-one–first blood,” remarked the sheriff, dropping the deuce.

While he pegged his points Blake suddenly laughed.

“Say, Jim,” he said, “before I forget it I want to tell you a joke on Humble. He thought it would be easy money if he taught Lee Lung how to play poker. He bothered Lee’s life out of him for several days, and finally the Chinaman consented to learn the great American game.”

Blake played a six and the sheriff scored two by pairing, whereupon his opponent made it threes for six, and took a point for the last card.

“As I was saying, Humble wanted the cook to learn poker. Lee’s face was as blank as a cow’s, and Humble had to explain everything several times before the cook seemed to understand what he was driving at. Anybody would have thought he had been brought up in a monastery and that he didn’t know a card from an army mule.”

Blake pegged his seven points and picked up his cards without breaking the story.“But Lee had awful luck, and in half an hour he owned half of Humble’s next month’s pay. Now, every time he gets a chance he shows Humble the cards and asks for a game. ‘Nicee game, ploker, nicee game,’ he’ll say. What Humble says is pertinent, profane and permeating. Then the boys guy him to a finish. He’ll be wanting to teach Lee how to play fan-tan some day, so the boys say. Lee must have graduated in poker before Humble ever heard of the game.”

Shields laughed heartily and swiftly ran over his cards.

“Fifteen two, four, six, a pair is eight, and a double run of three is fourteen. Real good,” he said as he pegged. “Passed the crack that time. What have you got?”

The foreman put his cards down, found three sixes and then turned the crib face up. “Pair of tens and His Highness,” he grumbled. “Only three in that crib!”

“That’s what you get for cutting a three,” laughed the sheriff.

The game continued until the striking of the clock startled the guest.

“Midnight!” he cried. “Thirty miles before I get to bed–no, no, I can’t stay with you to-night –much obliged, all the same.”

He clapped his sombrero on his head and started for the door: “Well, better luck next time, Jim–three twenty-four hands shore did make a difference. Right where they were needed, too. So long.”

“Sorry you won’t stay, Tom,” called his friend from the door as the foreman mounted. “You might just as well, you know.”

“I’m sorry, too, but I’ve got to be on hand to-morrow–anyway, it’s bright moonlight–so long!” he cried as he cantered away.

“Hey, Tom!” cried the sheriff, leaping from the porch and running to the gate. “Tom!”

“Hullo, what is it?” asked the foreman, drawing rein and returning.

“Smoke this on your way, it’ll seem shorter,” said the sheriff, holding out a cigar.

“By George, I will!” laughed Blake. “That’s fine, you’re all right!”

“Be good,” cried the sheriff, watching his friend ride down the street.

“Shore enough good–I have to be,” floated back to his ears.