their peculiar dignity, are incidental,
indefinite--all but negative, here. It's different with a sheriff.
He's the man who comes riding with his guns at his side; they can see
him perform. All the law that they know centers in him; all branches
of government, as they understand his powers. Yes, a sheriff is
something of a figure in this county, Frances, and to be nominated for
that office by one party and indorsed by another is just about the
biggest compliment a man can receive."

"But surely, Alan, you'll not accept it?"

"Why, I think so," he returned, thoughtfully. "I think I'd be worth
more to this county as sheriff than I would be as--as governor, let us
say."

"Yes, but they go shooting sheriffs," she protested.

"They'll not be doing so much careless and easy shooting around here
since Colonel--Brigadier-General Landcraft--and that sounds more like
his size, too--gave them a rubdown with the iron hand. The cattle
barons' day is over; their sun went down when Mark Thorn brought the
holy scare to Saul Chadron's door."

"Father is of the same opinion. Do you know, Alan, the whole story
about that horrible old man Thorn is in the eastern papers?"

"Is it possible?"

"With a Cheyenne date-line," she nodded, "the whole story--who hired
him to skulk and kill, and a list of his known crimes. Father says if
there was anything lacking in the fight you made on the cattlemen,
this would finish them. It's a terrible story--poor Nola read it, and
learned for the first time her father's connection with Thorn. She's
humiliated and heartbroken over it all."

"With sufficient reason," he nodded.

"She's afraid her mother will hear of it in some way."

"She'll find it out in time, Frances; a thing like that walks on a
man's grave."

"It will not matter so much after a while, after her first grief
settles."

"Did Nola come back with you?"

"No, she went on to take some things to poor old Mrs. Lassiter. She
never has recovered from the loss of her son--it's killing her by
inches, Tom says. And you considering that office of sheriff!" She
turned to him with censorious eyes as she spoke, as if struck with a
pain of which he was the cause. "I tell you, you men don't know, you
don't know! It's the women that suffer in all this shooting and
killing--we are the ones that have to bear the sorrows in the night
and watch through the uncertain days!"

"Yes," said he gently, "the poor women must bear most of this world's