“It’s like this,” Bud began, seating himself on the edge of the veranda; “John Torrance, who was supervisor before you came in, got me this job and put it up to me to stick.  Now, I like John, and I figure John ain’t scared of me.  But here’s where I lose the trail.  A ole friend, the biggest shipper of sheep in this State, goes and gets it into his head that they’s a State Senator over there drawin’ down pay that ought to come to me.  Recollec’, I said he was a sheepman—­and I been for the longhorns all my days.  And he’s got the nerve to tell me that all the sheepmen in this here county are strong for me if I run for the job.  If I didn’t know him like I know this here right hand, I would say he was gettin’ hardenin’ of the brain in his ole aige.  But he’s a long ways from havin’ his head examined yet.

“Then along comes a representative of the Cattlemen’s Association and says they want me to run for State Senator.  Then along comes a committee of hay-tossers from up around St. Johns and says, polite, that they are waitin’ my pleasure in the matter of framin’ up their ticket for senatorial candidate from this mesa country.  They say that the present encumbrance in the senatorial chair is such a dog-gone thief that he steals from hisself just to keep in practice.  I don’t say so.  ’Course, if I can get to a chair that looks big and easy, without stompin’ on anybody—­why, I’m like to set down.  But if I can’t, I figure to set where I be.

“Now, this here war talk is gettin’ folks excited.  And ridin’ excitement down the trail of politics is like tryin’ to ride white lightnin’ bareback.  It’s like to leave you so your friends can’t tell what you looked like.  And somebody that ain’t got brains enough to plug the hole in a watch-key has been talkin’ around that Bud Shoop is a fighter, with a record for gettin’ what he goes after.  And that this same Bud Shoop is as honest as the day is long.  Now, I’ve seen some mighty short days when I was tradin’ hosses.  And then this here stingin’ lizard goes to work and digs up my deputy number over to Sterling and sets the papers to printin’ as how it was me, with the help of a few parties whose names are of no special int’rest, settled that strike.”

“So you were at Sterling?”

“Uh-uh.  Between you and me, I was.  And it wa’n’t what you’d call a girl’s school for boys, neither.  But that’s done.  What I’m gettin’ at is:  If I resign here, after givin’ my word to Torrance to stick, it looks like I been playin’ with one hand under the table.  The papers will lie like hell boostin’ me, and if I don’t lie like hell, boostin’ myself, folks’ll think I’m a liar, anyhow.  Now, takin’ such folks one at a time, out back of the store, mebby, where they ain’t no wimmin-folks, I reckon I could make ’em think different.  But I can’t lick the county.  I ain’t no angel.  I never found that tellin’ the truth kep’ me awake nights.  And I sleep pretty good.  Now, I writ to Torrance, tellin’ him just how things was headed.  What do you think he writ back?”