"They've _got_ to accept him or go plumb to the devil down there. These
articles and speeches have put us in wrong with the whole state. This
wild West business has got to be cut out. It scares away capital. Now
you get busy!"
The judge went back resolved upon a change of administration. The
constituent who held the office of marshal was brave enough, but he had
grown elderly and inert. He was, in truth, a joke. The gamblers laughed
at him and the cowboys "played horse" with him. The spirit of deviltry
was stronger than it had ever been in the history of the county.
"Something religious has got to be done," the judge argued to the city
fathers, and, having presented Hornaby's message, demanded the
installation of Kelley.
The board listened attentively, but were unconvinced. "Who is this
Kelley? He's nothing but a tramp, a mounted hobo. Who knows him?"
"Hornaby knows him and wants him, and his order goes. Let's have him in
and talk with him, anyhow."
Kelley was called in. He showed up a tall, composed young fellow of
thirty, with weather-worn face and steady gray eyes in which the pupils
were unusually small and very dark blue. His expression was calm and his
voice pleasant. He listened in amused silence while the judge told him
what the program was. Then he said:
"That's a whale of a job you've laid out for me; but Hornaby's boss. All
is, if I start in on this, you fellows have got to see me through. It's
a right stiff program and I need some insurance. 'Pears to me like there
should be a little pot for Tall Ed at the end of this game--say, three
dollars a day and a couple of hundred bones when everything is quiet."
To this the judge agreed. "You go in and clean up. Run these gunmen down
the valley. Cut out this amatoor wild West business--it's hurting us.
Property is depreciating right along. We certainly can't stand any more
of this brimstone business. Go to it! We'll see that you're properly
reimbursed."
"All right, Judge. But you understand if I go into this peacemaking war
I draw no political lines. I am chief for the time being, and treat
everybody alike--greasers, 'Paches, your friends, my friends,
everybody."
"That's all right. It's your deal," said the judge and the aldermen.