ey remarked to Dad Miller, Hornaby's
foreman, the next time he met him. "Mink's friends have thrown a scare
into the judge and he has turned that coyote loose against me. Looks
like I had one of two things to do--kill the cuss or jump the town."

"Shoot him on sight," advised Miller.

"If I do that I'm 'in bad' with the court," Kelley argued. "You see,
when I took him before, I had the law on my side. Now it's just man to
man--until he commits another crime. Killing me wouldn't be a crime."

"That's so," mused his friend. "You're cinched any way you look at it."

Kelley went on: "Moreover, some of my greaser friends have started a
line of fool talk about making me sheriff, and that has just naturally
set the whole _political_ ring against me. They'd just as soon I got
killed as not--a little sooner. I've a right to resign, haven't I?
Nobody has a license to call me a coward after what I've done, have
they?"

"No license; but I reckon they will, all the same," responded his
friend.

Kelley's face hardened. "Well, I'll disappoint 'em. I'm going to stay
with it." However, he went to the mayor and voiced his resentment of the
court's action.

His Honor pretended to be greatly concerned. "Now, don't quit on us, Ed.
Hornaby expects you to stay put. You're the only man who can clean up
the town. You've done great work already, and we appreciate it. In fact,
we're going to raise your pay."

"Pay to a corpse don't count," retorted Kelley. "It's a question of
backing. You fellows have got to stand behind me."

"We'll do it, Ed. Only, Hornaby thinks you'd better put a card in the
paper saying that you have no intention of going into politics."

"Oh, hell!" said Kelley, disgustedly. "Is Hornaby suspicious of me, too?
Well, for that I've a mind to run," and he went out in deep disgust.

As the days went by and no open movement against him took place, his
vigilance somewhat relaxed. Mink kept to his lair like some treacherous,
bloodthirsty animal, which was a bad sign.

At heart Tall Ed was restless and discontented. Each day he walked the
streets of the fly-bit town; dreaming of the glorious desert spaces he
had crossed and of the high trails he had explored. He became more and
more homesick for the hills. Far away to the north gleamed the snowy
crest of the Continental Divide, and the desire to ride on, over that
majestic barrier into valleys whose purple shadows allured him like
banners, grew stronger. Each night he