or sat on the table, but it never should be said to Corwin's discredit that an officer of the law was rude and ignorant in such a well-known and long-established form of etiquette. So Sheriff Corwin knocked.
"Come in!" impatiently bawled a loud and rude voice.
The sheriff obeyed and looked around the door casing. "Ah, hello, Mac," he said in cheery greeting.
"Mac who?" roared the man at the table.
"McCullough," said the man at the door, correcting himself. "How are you?"
"Yo're one full-blooded d—n fool of a sheriff," sneered the trail-boss. "Where's them two prisoners I been waitin' for?"
"They got away. Somebody helped 'em bust th' jail. I sent word back to you by yore own men."
"Shore, I got, it; I know that. That's no excuse a-tall!" retorted the trail-boss. "I went an' sent word down to Twitchell on th' jump that his fool way worked an' that I was goin' to send him th' men he wanted. Then you let 'em bust out of jail! Fine sort of a fool you made of me! Where's yore reward now, that you was spendin' so fast? An' what'll Twitchell say, an' do? He wants th' bank robbers, not excuses; an' more'n all he wanted th' man that shot Ridley. It ain't only a question of pertectin' th' men workin' for him, but it's personal, too. Ridley was an old friend of his'n—an' he'll raise h—l till he gets th' man that killed him. What about it? What have you done since they got away?"
"We trailed 'em, but they lost us," growled Corwin. "Reckon they got up on that hard ground an' then lit out, jumpin' th' country as fast as they could. Kane had it on
