ecalled how, after the fight in the Casa Blanca, he had let Galloway
go and with him Antone and the Kid; their memories trailed back to the
killing of Bisbee of Las Palmas and the evidence of the boots. They
began to admit, at first reluctantly, then with angry eagerness, that
Norton was not the man his father had been before him, not the man they
had taken him to be. And all of this hurt Norton's stanch friend, John
Engle. All the more that he, too, saw signs of hesitancy which he
found it hard to condone.

"Let him alone," he said many a time. "Give him his chance and a free
hand. He knows what he is doing."

From that point he began to make excuses, first to himself and then to
others. People were forgetting that only a short time ago the sheriff
had lain many days at the point of death; that his system had been
overtaxed; that not yet had his superb strength come back to him. Wait
until once more he was physically fit.

It was merely an excuse, and at the outset no man knew it better than
the banker himself. But as time went by without bringing results and
tongues grew sharper and more insistent everywhere, Engle grew
convinced that there was a grain of truth in his trumped-up argument.
He invited Norton to his home, had him to dinner, watched him keenly,
and came to the conclusion that Norton was riding on his nerves, that
he had not taken sufficient time to recuperate before getting his feet
back into the official stirrups, that the strain of his duties was
telling on him, that he needed a rest and a change or would go to
pieces.

But Norton, the subject broached, merely shook his head.

"I'm all right, John," he said a little hurriedly and nervously. "I am
run down at the heels a bit, I'll admit. But I can't stop to rest
right now. One of these days I'll quit this job and go back to
ranching. Until then . . . Well, let them talk. We can't stop them
very well."

Suspicion of the Quigley mines robbery had turned at first toward del
Rio. But he had established an alibi. So had Galloway. So had Antone
and the Kid.

"There is nothing to do but wait," Norton insisted. "It won't be long
now."

Engle, having less than no faith in Patten's ability, went to Virginia
Page. She saw Norton often; what did she think? Was he on the verge
of a collapse? Was he physically fit?

"All of this criticism hurts him," said the banker thoughtfully. "I
know Rod and how he must take it, though he only shr