Hello, Jack. Got a Mr. Deacon stoppin' with you?
Sure. Right here. This is Deacon.
Ambrose Deacon?
Certainly. Jack's reply was more curt.
The sheriff looked puzzled and scratched his head.
I guess I got to take him, he announced.
Take me! My God, what for? Ambrose demanded.
Jack was practical. Have you got a warrant? he asked.
The sheriff fumbled in his coat-pocket and drew out a telegraph form which he handed to Jack.
It was addressed to the Sheriff of Santa Fe and it was signed by the Chief of Police at Los Angeles. Jack read the message aloud:
