interest. The men ate hastily, rose, and departed, leaving Hardy and
Waring, who called for a second cup of coffee and rolled a cigarette
while waiting.

Hardy had seen the stranger ride into town on the big buckskin. The
horse bore a Mexican brand. The hotel register told Hardy who the
stranger was. And the sheriff of Stacey County was curious to know just
what the Sonora gunman was doing in town.

Waring sat with his unlighted cigarette between his fingers. The sheriff
proffered a match. Their eyes met. Waring nodded his thanks and blew a
smoke-ring.

"How are things down in Sonora?" queried Hardy.

"Quiet."

Mrs. Adams questioned Waring with her eyes. He nodded. "This is Mr.
Waring," she said, rising. "This is Mr. Hardy, our sheriff."

The men shook hands. "Mrs. Adams is a good cook," said Waring.

A clatter of hoofs and the sound of a cheery voice broke the silence.

A young cowboy jingled into the room. "Hello, Buck! Hello, mother!" And
Lorry Adams strode up and kissed his mother heartily. "Got a runnin'
chance to come to town and I came--runnin'. How's everything?"

Mrs. Adams murmured a reply. Buck Hardy was watching Waring as he
glanced up at the boy. The sheriff pulled a cigar from his vest and