Then they strolled out and down the
street toward the sheriff's home. When they knocked at the door it was
opened by a plump, dark-eyed woman who greeted them heartily.
"Come right in, boys. Jim's tendin' the baby." And she took their
hats.
They stepped to the adjoining room where Sheriff Jim sat on the floor,
his coat off, while his youngest deputy, clad only in an abbreviated
essential garnished with a safety-pin, sat opposite, gravely tearing up
the evening paper and handing the pieces to his proud father, who
stuffed the pieces in his pants pocket and cheerfully asked for more.
"Election?" queried Shoop.
"And all coming Jim's way," commented Corliss.
The baby paused in his balloting and solemnly surveyed the dusty
strangers. Then he pulled a piece of paper from his father's pocket
and offered it to Shoop. "Wants me to vote, the little cuss! Well,
here goes." And, albeit unfamiliar with plump aborigines at close
range, the foreman entered into the spirit of the game and cast his
vote for the present incumbent, deputizing the "yearlin'" to handle the
matter. The yearling however, evidently thought it was time for a
recount.
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