"I'm deputy-sheriff of San Lorenzo County," he declared, "and mighty
proud of it."
"Proud of this yere county?" said the boy, "or proud of being dep'ty-
sheriff?"
"By Jing! I'm proud o' both. The county's comin' along fine, and so'm
I, Bud. It's a fact, sonny, that I'm held in high esteem as an
officer. Why, my boss said to me this very day: 'Jeff,' says he, 'yer
makin' a record.'"
"What sort o' record?"
Jeff flushed slightly. He was not in the habit of "tooting his own
horn," as he would have put it, but the boy's face invited confidence.
"A record for dooin' my duty," he answered slowly. "'Tain't as easy as
you might think for."
"No?"
"Not by no means. Ye see, Bud, in a new country 'tisn't only the real
bad eggs that worries us. The community can deal with them. No, no,
it's the good fellers gone wrong, the straight 'uns grown crooked, who
keep us stirrin'. And, sometimes, when a friend, a neighbour, flies
the track, an officer is kind o' tempted to look the other way. See?"
"And you don't look the other way?"
Jeff's strong chin stuck out, and his eyes sparkled "You bet I don't.
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