“Same here,”—­and Pete grinned.  “But it don’t worry me none.”

“I’ll make out the check for you.”  And Andover pulled out his fountain pen and stepped over to the auctioneer’s stand.  Pete signed the check and handed it to the auctioneer.

“Don’t know this man,” said the auctioneer, as he glanced at the signature.

“I’ll endorse it,” volunteered Andover quickly.

“All right, Doc.”

And Andover, whose account was as close to being overdrawn as it could be and still remain an account, endorsed the check of a man worth twenty-four thousand-odd dollars, and his endorsement was satisfactory to the auctioneer.  So much for professional egoism and six-cylinder prestige.

Sheriff Owen, who had kept a mild eye on Pete, had noted this transaction.  After Blue Smoke had been returned to the stables, he took occasion to ask Pete if he were still a partner to the understanding that he was on his honor not to attempt to escape.

“I figured that deal was good till I got here,” said Pete bluntly.

“Just so, son.  That’s where my figuring stopped, likewise.  Too much open country.  If you once threw a leg over that blue roan, I can see where some of us would do some riding.”

“If I’d been thinkin’ of leavin’ you, it would ‘a’ been afore we got here, sheriff.”

“So it’s ‘sheriff’ now, and not Jim, eh?”

“It sure is—­if you’re thinkin’ o’ lockin’ me up.  You treated me white back there in El Paso—­so I’m tellin’ you that if you lock me up—­and I git a chanct, I’ll sure vamose.”

Pete’s assertion did not seem to displease the sheriff in the least.  To the contrary, he smiled affably.

“That’s fair enough.  And if I don’t lock you up, but let you stay over to the hotel, you’ll hang around town till this thing is settled, eh?”

“I sure will.”

“Will you shake on that?”

Pete thrust out his hand.  “That goes, Jim.”

“Now you’re talking sense, Pete.  Reckon you better run along and see what the Doc wants.  He’s waving to you.”

Andover sat in his car, drawing on his gloves.  “I’ve arranged to have the horse shipped to me by express.  If you don’t mind, I wish you would see that he is loaded properly and that he has food and water before the car leaves—­that is”—­and Andover cleared his throat—­“if you’re around town tomorrow.  The sheriff seems to allow you a pretty free hand—­possibly because I assured him that you were not physically fit to—­er—­ride a horse.  Since I saw that bank-book of yours, I’ve been thinking more about your case.  If I were you I would hire the best legal talent in El Paso, and fight that case to a finish.  You can pay for it.”

“You mean for me to hire a lawyer to tell ’em I didn’t kill Sam Brent?”

“Not exactly that—­but hire a lawyer to prove to the judge and jury that you didn’t kill him.”