the dance-hall, with a little green parasol in its paw and an old silk
hat upon its head; from it they shifted to the gaudy bar with its
paraphernalia of fancy glasses, show-cases of coloured liquors and its
pair of scales for weighing the gold dust; and from that to a keg,
the top of which could be withdrawn without engendering the slightest
suspicion that it represented other than an ordinary receptacle for
liquor. Two notices tacked upon the wall also caught and held his
glance, his eyes dwelling most affectionately on the one reading:
"A Real Home For The Boys."

That there was such a thing as sentiment in the make-up of the
Sheriff of Manzaneta County few people, perhaps, would have believed.
Nevertheless, at the thought that this placard inspired, he dismissed
whatever inclination he might have had to deal leniently with the
culprit, and calmly observed:

"There is no reason, gentlemen, of being in a hurry. I've got something
to say about this. I don't forget, although I am the Sheriff of
Manzaneta County, that I'm running four games. But it's men like The
Sidney Duck here that casts reflections on square-minded, sporting men
like myself. And worse--far worse, gentlemen, he casts reflections on
The Polka, the establishment of the one decent woman in Cloudy."

"You bet!" affirmed Nick, indignantly.

"Yes, a lady, d'you hear me?" stormed Sonora, addressing the prisoner;
then: "You lily-livered skunk!"

"Oh, let's string 'im up!" urged Trinidad.