THE FIGHTING SHEPHERDESS
makin' himself unpopular, I can tell you, tryin' to stir up somethin'."
Teeters looked at him wonderingly but said nothing; instead, he went out in search of the deputy.
Lingle was sitting dejectedly on the edge of the sidewalk when Teeters found him, and the deputy returned his spicy greeting dispiritedly.
"You look bilious as a cat," said Teeters, eying him. "Why don't you take somethin'?"
"You bet I'm bilious—the world looks plumb ja'ndiced!" the deputy answered, with feeling.
"What's the matter?" Teeters sobered in sudden anxiety. "Ain't the case—"
A frown grew between the deputy's eyebrows.
"The case is gettin' nowhere. Things don't look right, and I can't exactly put my finger on it."
"What do you mean, Lingle?" quickly.
"I mean that people are actin' curious—them sports inside—" he jerked his thumb at the Boosters' Club behind him, "and the authorities."
"How do you mean—curious?"
"Don't show any interest—throw a wet blanket over everything as if they wanted to discourage me—I'm not sure that they're not tryin' to block me."
"But why would they?" Teeters looked incredulous.
Lingle shrugged a shoulder.
"I don't know yet, but I've got my own opinion."
"But you won't Jay down," Teeters pleaded, "even if they pull against you?"
"Not to notice!" the deputy replied grimly.
138
