"Things turned out a little
awkwardly at first, but this affair is going to put me on my feet again.
The moment my car is identified and Red Gallagher and his mate arrested,
every scrap of evidence against me goes."
"Well, here's the garage and the man who bought the car," the Sheriff
remarked, "and there's the car itself in the road. It's for you to say
whether it can be identified."
Quest drew a sigh of relief.
"That's mine, right enough," he declared. "Now for the men."
"Say, I want to tell you something," the Sheriff began dubiously. "These
two are real thugs. They ain't going to take it lying down."
"Where are they?" Quest demanded.
"In the worst saloon here," the Sheriff replied. "They've been there
pretty well all night, drinking, and they're there again this morning,
hard at it. They've both got firearms, and though I ain't exactly a
nervous man, Mr. Quest--"
"You leave it to me," Quest interrupted. "This is my job and I want to
take the men myself."
"You'll never do it," the Sheriff declared.
"Look here," Quest explained, "if I let you and your men go in, there will
be a free fight, and as likely as not you will kill one, if not both of
the men. I want them alive."
"Well, it's your show," the Sheriff admitted, stopping before a
disreputable-looking building. "This is the saloon. They've turned the
place upside down since they've been here. You can hear the row they're
making now. Free drinks to all the toughs in the town! They're pouring the
stuff down all the time.
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