The Sheriffs Bluff | Page 6

'm darned if you did n't," said the Sheriff. "The Judge has ruled it so, and so you did. Now go home and don't you come back here again during this term, or you will sleep in jail again."
"That old Judge is doty," declared the young man with a tone of conviction.
"So much the worse for you if you come back here. Go home now, just as quick as you can."
Creel reflected for a moment.
"Well, it beats my time. I 'll tell you what I 'll do, Mr. Thompson," he said, half pleadingly. "I 'll go home and stay there if you will promise not to tell my wife I was in jail."
"I promise you," said Aleck, solemnly. "I give you my word I won't."
"And what 's more," continued Creel, "if you 'll keep anybody else from doing it, I 'll vote for you next time for Sheriff."
"I promise you that, too," said Aleck, "and if anybody says you were there, let me know, and I 'll come up there and--and tell her you were n't. I can't do any more than that, can I?"
"No, you can't do any more than that," admitted Creel, sadly, and, leaning over and shaking hands with the Sheriff cordially for the first time in some years, he rode away in profound dejection.
"Well, I 've got to face Mary," he said, "and I reckon I might as well do it. Whiskey is a queer thing. I must have been a lot drunker than I thought I was, because if the Court had n't ruled it, I would have sworn I slept in that there wing room last night."
"Well, that 's the best bluff I ever put up," said Thompson to the throng about him as he turned back to the court-house.
The Sheriff's bluff became the topic of the rest of the term. Such audacity, such resourcefulness had never been known. Thompson became more popular than ever, and his re-election the following spring was admitted to be certain.
"That Aleck Thompson 's the smartest man that is," declared one of his delighted adherents.
Thompson himself thought so, too, and his imitation of the Judge, of Dick Creel, and of himself in court became his most popular story.
Only the old Judge moved among the throng of tittering laymen calm, dignified, and unsuspecting.
"If ever he gets hold of you, Aleck," said one of that worthy's worshippers, "there 's likely to be a vacancy in the office of sheriff."
"He 'll put me in jail," laughed Aleck. "Dick Creel says he 's kind o' doty."

IV
The Court was nearing the end of the term, Dolittle et al. vs. Dolittle's Executrix, with all its witnesses and all its bitternesses, had resulted in a mistrial, and the sister churches were wider apart than ever. The rest of the docket was being daily disposed of.
The Sheriff was busy one day telling his story to an admiring throng on the court-green when someone casually observed that Mrs. Dick Creel had got off the train that morning.
The Sheriff's face changed a little.
"Where is she!"
"Waitin' in the tavern parlor."
"What is she doing here! What is she doing in there!"
"Jest a settin' and a waitin'."
"I 'spect she is waitin' for you, Aleck!" hazarded one of his friends.
There was a burst of laughter, for Squire Jefford's daughter, Mary, was known to be "a woman of her own head."
The Sheriff laughed, too; but his laughter was not as mirthful as usual. He made an ineffectual attempt to keep up his jollity.
"I reckon I 'll go and see Mary," he said at length.
He left the group with affected cheerfulness, but his heart was heavier than he liked to admit. He made his way to the "ladies' parlor," as the little sitting-room in the south wing of the rambling old tavern, overlooking the court-green was called, and opened the door.
On one side of the wood fire, in a stiff, high-backed chair sat a young woman, in her hat and wrap and gloves, "jest a settin' and a waitin'." She was a well-made and comely young woman under thirty, with a ruddy face, smooth hair and bright eyes that the Sheriff knew could both smile and snap. Her head was well set on rather plump shoulders; her mouth was well formed, but was now close drawn, and her chin was strong enough to show firmness--too much firmness, as Thompson mentally decided when he caught its profile.
The Sheriff advanced with an amiable smile. He was so surprised.
"Why, you here, Mary! When did you come?" His tone was affable and even testified pleasure. But Mary did not unbend. She was as stiff as the chair she sat in. Without turning her head she turned her eyes and looked at him sideways.
"Mrs. Creel."
There was a glint in her black eyes that meant war, and Thompson's countenance fell.
"Ah-ur-Mrs. Creel."
"I