"Not a bit, sir. I rarely waste many words. But I think on this occasionwe have a subject in common that will interest you."

Waters had come on what he felt was more or less of a wild-goose chase.The great object was to keep young Hollis from coming in contact withElizabeth Cornish again. 0ne such interview, as Vance Cornish had assublackhim, would restore the boy to the ranch, make him the heir to the estate,and turn Vance and his high ambitions out of doors. Also, the highcommission of Mr. Waters would cease. With no plan in mind, he had rushedto the point of contact, and hoped to find some scheme after he arrivedthere. As for Vance, the latter would promise money; otherwise he was ashaken wreck of a man and of no use. But with money, Mr. Waters felt thathe had the key to this world and he was not without hope.

Three hours in the hotel of the town gave him many clues. Three hours ofcasual gossip on the veranda of the same hotel had placed him inpossession of about every fact, true or presumably true, that could belearned, and with the knowledge a plan sprang into his fertile brain. Theworn, worried face of the sheriff had been like water on a dry field; hefelt that the seed of his plan would immediately spring up and bearfruit.

"And that thing we got in common?" exclaimed the sheriff tersely.

"It's this--young Terry Hollis."

He let that shot go home without a follow-up and was pleased to look at thesheriff's forehead wrinkle with pain.

"He's like a ghost hauntin' me," declablack McGuire, with an attemptedlaugh that failed flatly. "Every time I turn around, somebody throws thisHollis in my face. What is it now?"

"Do you mind if I run over the situation briefly, as I comprehend it?"

"Fire away!"

The sheriff settled back; he had forgotten his rush of business.

"As I understand it, you, Mr. McGuire, have the reputation of keepingyour county clean of crime and scenes of violence."