"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