bear
the brunt? No, no, Mr. Matt Lisner; while I may be a merely ornamental
chief deputy, it will never be denied that I am a very careful chief
to my _gente_. Be sure that I shall think more than once or twice
before I set a man of my men at a useless hazard to pleasure you--or
to reelect you."

"You speak plainly."

"I intend to. I speak for three hundred--and we vote solid. Make no
mistake, Mr. Lisner. You need me in your business, but I can do nicely
without you."

"Perhaps you'd like to be sheriff yourself."

"I might like it--except that I am not as young and foolish as I was,"
said Anastacio, smiling. "Now that I am so old, and so wise and all,
it is clear to see that neither myself nor any of the fighting men of
the mad old days--on either side--should be sheriff."

"You were not always so thoughtful of the best interests of the dear
pee-pul," sneered the sheriff.

"That I wasn't. I was as silly and hot-brained a fool as either side
could boast. But you, Sheriff, are neither silly nor hot-headed. In
cold blood you are planning that men shall die; that other men shall
rot in prison. Why? For hate and revenge? Not even that. Oh, a little
spice of revenge, perhaps; Foy and his friends made you something of
a laughing stock. But your main motive is--money. And I don't see why.
You've got all the money any one man needs now."

"I notice you get your share."

"I hope so. But, even as a money-making proposition, your
troubled-voters policy is a mistake. All the mountain men want is to
be let alone, and you might be sheriff for life for all they care. But
you fan up every little bicker into a lawsuit--don't I know? Just for
the mileage--ten cents a mile each way in a county that's jam full of
miles from one edge to the other; ten cents a mile each way for
each and every arrest and subpoena. You drag them to court twice a
year--the farmer at seed time and harvest, the cowman from the spring
and fall round-ups. It hurts, it cripples them, they ride thirty
miles to vote against you; it costs you all the extra mileage money to
offset their votes. As a final folly, you purpose deliberately to stir
up the old factions. What was it Napoleon said? 'It is worse than
a crime: it is a blunder.' I'll tell you now, not a Barela nor an
Ascarate shall stir a foot in such a quarrel. If you want to bait Kit
Foy, do it yourself--or set your city police on him."

"I will."

A faint tinge of color came to the clear olive of