one chuck-hole to another; but they did not turn their heads.

"Hello, there, Cass!" shouted the sheriff genially, as he pulled down
alongside of them. "How'do, Mis' Gentry! Pretty hot travelin', ain't
it?"

"I s'pose it is--being July," the little woman replied, with the first
trace of confusion that Cassidy had seen. "I--I hadn't been noticing
lately."

"I'm in a terrible hurry," the sheriff continued rapidly. "Some are
sayin' young Tommy Ivison come this way, and I want him. I hate tuh
give yuh my dust. Whoa, Dick! Whoa, Pet!" He pulled in his fretting
team with a heavy hand. "I've got tuh get him before he crosses the
California line, so I got tuh fan right along. Gid-ap, there!"

"Wait a minute, Jake."

"Can't do it, Mis' Gentry. If he's more than a couple of miles ahead,
I can't ketch him. What is it I can do for you?"

"Yuh kin marry us two!" said the little woman, with a gulp.

"_Marry yuh?_" roared the sheriff. "Can't do it, ma'am--not even for a
friend. Awful sorry, Mis' Gentry, but I've just _got_ tuh go." He
jerked the whip from its socket for a merciless slash.

"_Jake!_" said the little woman commandingly.

"Ma'am?" said the sheriff in an uncertain tone.