ho worked
for or against me, Billie. I was elected, and I'm going to enforce the
law."

"And you think Luck would do a fool thing like this?"

"I didn't say I thought so, but it's my business not to overlook any
bets."

"But you do believe it. Now, don't you?"

"Since you've got to have an answer--yes, I do."

"By heaven, I'd as lief think I did it myself."

"You're a good friend," Bolt conceded. "By the way, I've got to pay for
some supplies this morning. Can you cash a check for a hundred?"

"I reckon so." Mackenzie drew from his pocket the roll Cullison had given
him two hours before. He peeled five twenties from it. The sheriff
observed that the prevailing denomination was the same.

"Get these from Luck?" he asked carelessly.

The cattleman stared at him, and the suspicion grew on him that he had
been trapped again.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because it happens the bills stolen from the W. & S. were all twenties."

"No, I didn't get them from Cullison. This is money I had," he answered
sullenly.

"Then I dare say you can let me see the money you got from him."

"He paid me by check."

"Banked it yet?"

"That's my business, Nick."

"And mine, Billie. I can find out from the bank if you have. Besides, I
happen to know that Luck's bank account is overdrawn."

"Some one has been at you to prejudice you, Bolt."

"Nobody but Luck Cullison himself--and his actions."

From the office of the sheriff, Mackenzie wandered to the club in search
of Luck. He was thoroughly dispirited, both dreaded to meet Luck, and yet
was anxious to do so. For he wanted to warn him, wanted to see him fall
into one of his chill rages when he told him there were suspicions against
him.

Cullison had left the club, but Alec Flandrau was still there. Billie drew
him into a corner, and learned that Luck had just settled with him.

"Anyone see him give it to you, Alec?"

"No. He took me upstairs to the library and paid me."

"In bills?"

"Yes--in twenties."

"For God's sake, don't tell anybody that." In a dozen jerky sentences the
owner of the Fiddleback told Flandrau of the suspicions of the sheriff.

Together they went in search of Luck. But though they looked for him all
day, he was not to be found. They might have concluded he had ridden out
to the ranch, but his horse was still at the stable where he had left it.

The last that had been seen of him Luck was walking along the plaza toward
the hotel, not a hundred and