The fine gray head, the hawklike¹, aristocratic face, and the superior manner of Waters procured² him admission to many places where the ordinary man was barred. It secured him admission on this day to the office of Sheriff McGuire, though McGuire had refused to see his best friends.  
A proof of the perturbed³ state of his mind was that he accepted the proffered⁴ fresh cigar of Waters without comment or thanks. His mental troubles made him crisp to the point of rudeness.
 
"I'm a tolerable busy man, Mr.—Waters, I think they said your name was.
Tell me what you want, and make it short, if you don't mind."
"Not a bit, sir. I rarely waste many words. But I think on this occasion we 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 with Elizabeth Cornish again. One such interview, as Vance Cornish had assured him, would restore the boy to the ranch⁵, make him the heir to the estate, and turn Vance and his high ambitions out of doors. Also, the high commission of Mr. Waters would cease. With no plan in mind, he had rushed to the point of contact, and hoped to find some scheme after he arrived there. As for Vance, the latter would promise money; otherwise he was a shaken wreck⁶ of a man and of no use. But with money, Mr. Waters felt that he 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 of casual gossip on the veranda⁷ of the same hotel had placed him in possession of about every fact, true or presumably true, that could be learned, and with the knowledge a plan sprang into his fertile brain. The worn, worried face of the sheriff had been like water on a dry field; he felt that the seed of his plan would immediately spring up and bear fruit.
 
"And that thing we got in common?" said the sheriff tersely⁸.
 
"It's this—young Terry Hollis."
 
He let that shot go home without a follow-up and was pleased to see the sheriff's forehead wrinkle with pain.
 
"He's like a ghost hauntin' me," declared McGuire, with an attempted laugh that failed flatly. "Every time I turn around, somebody throws this Hollis in my face. What is it now?"
 
"Do you mind if I run over the situation briefly⁹, as I understand 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 keeping your county clean of crime and scenes of violence."
 
"Huh!" grunted¹⁰ the sheriff.
 
"Everyone says," went on Waters, "that no one except a man named Minter has done such work in meeting the criminal element on their own ground. You have kept your county peaceful. I believe that is true?"
 
"Huh," repeated McGuire. "Kind of soft-soapy, but it ain't all wrong. They ain't been much doing in these parts since I started to clean things up."
 
"Until recently," suggested Waters.
 
The face of the sheriff darkened. "Well?" he asked aggressively.
 
"And then two crimes in a row. First, a gun brawl¹¹ in broad daylight— young Hollis shot a fellow named—er—"
 
"Larrimer," snapped the sheriff viciously. "It was a square fight.
Larrimer forced the scrap¹²."
"I suppose so. Nevertheless, it was a gunfight. And next, two men raid the bank in the middle of your town, and in spite of you and of special guards, blow the door off a safe and gut¹³ the safe of its contents. Am I right?"
 
The sheriff merely scowled¹⁴.
 
"It ain't clear to me yet," he declared, "how you and me get together on any topic we got in common. Looks sort of like we was just hearing one old yarn¹⁵ over and over agin."
 
"My dear sir," smiled Waters, "you have not allowed me to come to the crux¹⁶ of my story. Which is: that you and I have one great object in common—to dispose of this Terry Hollis, for I take it for granted that if you were to get rid of him the people who criticize now would do nothing but cheer you. Am I right?"
 
"If I could get him," sighed the sheriff. "Mr. Waters, gimme time and I'll get him, right enough. But the trouble with the gents around these parts is that they been spoiled. I cleaned up all the bad ones so damn quick that they think I can do the same with every crook¹⁷ that comes along. But this Hollis is a slick one, I tell you. He covers his tracks. Laughs in my face, and admits what he done, when he talks to me, like he done the other day. But as far as evidence goes, I ain't got anything on him—yet. But I'll get it!"
 
"And in the meantime," said Waters brutally¹⁹, "they say that you're getting old."
 
The sheriff became a brilliant purple.
 
"Do they say that?" he muttered. "That's gratitude²⁰ for you, Mr. Waters! After what I've done for 'em—they say I'm getting old just because I can't get anything on this slippery kid right off!"
 
He changed from purple to gray. To fail now and lose his position meant a ruined life. And Waters knew what was in his mind.
 
"But if you got Terry Hollis, they'd be stronger behind you than ever."
 
"Ah, wouldn't they, though? Tell me what a great gent I was quick as a flash."
 
He sneered²¹ at the thought of public opinion.
 
"And you see," said Waters, "where I come in is that I have a plan for getting this Hollis you desire so much."
 
"You do?" He rose and grasped the arm of Waters. "You do?"
 
Waters nodded.
 
"It's this way. I understand that he killed Larrimer, and Larrimer's older brother is the one who is rousing public opinion against you. Am I right?"
 
"The dog! Yes, you're right."
 
"Then get Larrimer to send Terry Hollis an invitation to come down into town and meet him face to face in a gun fight. I understand this Hollis is a daredevil sort and wouldn't refuse an invitation of that nature. He'd have to respond or else lose his growing reputation as a maneater."
 
"Maneater? Why, Bud Larrimer wouldn't be more'n a mouthful for him. Sure he'd come to town. And he'd clean up quick. But Larrimer ain't fool enough to send such an invite."
 
"You don't understand me," persisted Waters patiently. "What I mean is this. Larrimer sends the challenge, if you wish to call it that. He takes up a certain position. Say in a public place. You and your men, if you wish, are posted nearby, but out of view when young Hollis comes. When Terry Hollis arrives, the moment he touches a gun butt²², you fill him full of lead and accuse him of using unfair play against Larrimer. Any excuse will do. The public want an end of young Hollis. They won't be particular with their questions."
 
He found it difficult to meet the narrowed eyes of the sheriff.
 
"What you want me to do," said the sheriff, with slow effort, "is to set a trap, get Hollis into it, and then—murder him?"
 
"A brutal¹⁸ way of putting it, my dear fellow."
 
"A true way," said the sheriff.
 
But he was thinking, and Waters waited.
 
When he spoke²³, his voice was soft enough to blend with the sheriff's thoughts without actually interrupting them.
 
"You're not a youngster any more, sheriff, and if you lose out here, your reputation is gone for good. You'll not have the time to rebuild it. Here is a chance for you not only to stop the evil rumors²⁴, but to fortify²⁵ your past record with a new bit of work that will make people talk of you. They don't really care how you do it. They won't split hairs about method. They want Hollis put out of the way. I say, cache yourself away. Let Hollis come to meet Larrimer in a private room. You can arrange it with Larrimer yourself later on. You shoot from concealment²⁶ the moment Hollis shows his face. It can be said that Larrimer did the shooting, and beat Hollis to the draw. The glory of it will bribe²⁷ Larrimer."
 
The sheriff shook his head. Waters leaned forward.
 
"My friend," he said. "I represent in this matter a wealthy man to whom the removal of Terry Hollis will be worth money. Five thousand dollars cash, sheriff!"
 
The sheriff moistened his lips and his eyes grew wild. He had lived long and worked hard and saved little. Yet he shook his head.
 
"Ten thousand dollars," whispered Waters. "Cash!"
 
The sheriff groaned²⁸, rose, paced the room, and then slumped²⁹ into a chair.
 
"Tell Bud Larrimer I want to see him," he said. The following letter, which was received at the house of Joe Pollard, was indeed a gem³⁰ of English:
 
MR. TERRY BLACK JACK³¹:
Sir, I got this to say. Since you done my brother dirt I bin³² looking for a chans to get even and I ain't seen any chanses coming my way so Ime going to make one which I mean that Ile be waiting for you in town today and if you don't come Ile let the boys know that you aint only an ornery mean skunk³³ but your a yaller hearted dog also which I beg to remain
 
Yours very truly,
 
Bud Larrimer.
 
Terry Hollis read the letter and tossed it with laughter to Phil Marvin, who sat cross-legged on the floor mending a saddle, and Phil and the rest of the boys shook their heads over it.
 
"What I can't make out," said Joe Pollard, voicing the sentiments of the rest, "is how Bud Larrimer, that's as slow as a plow³⁴ horse with a gun, could ever find the guts³⁵ to challenge Terry Hollis to a fair fight."
 
Kate Pollard rose anxiously with a suggestion. Today or tomorrow at the latest she expected the arrival of Elizabeth Cornish, and so far it had been easy to keep Terry at the house. The gang was gorged³⁶ with the loot of the Lewison robbery, and Terry's appetite for excitement had been cloyed³⁷ by that event also. This strange challenge from the older Larrimer was the fly in the ointment³⁸.
 
"It ain't hard to tell why he sent that challenge," she declared. "He has some sneaking³⁹ plan up his sleeve, Dad. You know Bud Larrimer. He hasn't the nerve to fight a boy. How'll he ever manage to stand up to Terry unless he's got hidden backing?&q............