He wore a silver star on his vest, packed a gun in a greasy holster worn low down on his right side, and under his left arm he carried a package.
It suited Wade, then, to step forward; and if he expected surprise and pleasure to break across the sheriff's stern face he certainly had not reckoned in vain.
"Wal, I'm a son-of-a-gun!" ejaculated Burley, bending low, with quick movement, to peer at Wade.
"Howdy, Jim.

How's tricks ?" said Wade, extending his hand, and the smile that came so seldom illumined his sallow face.
"Hell-Bent Wade, as I'm a born sinner!" shouted the sheriff, and his hand leaped out to grasp Wade's and grip it and wring it.

His face worked.

"My Gawd! I'm glad to see you, old-timer! Wal, you haven't changed at all!...

Ten years! How time flies! An' it's shore you ?" "Same, Jim, an' powerful glad to meet you," replied Wade.
"Shake hands with Bridges an' Lindsay," said Burley, indicating his two comrades.