“How’s he taking it?” asked the sergeant, as he got up to meet the ranger.

“He’ll live,” answered the ranger.

“Strong boy you’ve got there. Lucky, too. The way this wolf scare has gotten everyone so nervous, it’s a wonder he wasn’t killed.”

“I told him as much.”

The ranger nodded his head in the direction of Ernie Ilson, then asked, “What are you going to do about him?”

“I’ve been giving that some thought. He knows he’s in a lot of trouble, and he feels terrible shooting Argus.”

“Can you charge him?”

“That’s just the thing,” said the sergeant. “He’s got a permit for the gun and a license to hunt. It would be pretty hard to prove he shot Argus on purpose.”

“I understand,” said the ranger.

“The best I can do is something like careless use of a firearm, but even that would be tough since he was still a pretty good shot, even if he was drunk.”

Ranger Brock turned slightly so that his back was to the old man still sitting in one of the waiting-room chairs. “Does he know there’s really nothing you can charge him with?”

“No,” the sergeant said, with a curious smile. “He thinks I’m waiting to drop the hammer on him.”

“How about…” the ranger began, “how about you let him off with a warning and use this whole incident to convince everyone else in town that it’s best to put away their guns before somebody does get killed.”

“I can do that.” Then he shook his head. “But what does it say about the people in this town when someone has to be shot, and nearly killed, before they consider putting away their guns?”

The ranger shrugged. “I don’t know, but whatever it says about them, it can’t be good.”

When they turned to face Ernie Ilson, the sergeant whispered to Ranger Brock, “Follow my lead. Maybe we can scare him into helping us.”

Ernie saw them looking his way and suddenly stood up, his hat in his hands. “I’m sorry, Ranger Brock. I never meant to hurt your son…I thought he was one of them wolves. Honest to God, I did.”

Ranger Brock had no trouble believing him. But that didn’t mean he was going to let him off easy. “Crazy old man, you’re lucky you didn’t kill him.”

“I know, I know,” Ernie said. “I’ve already put away that gun and locked it up good. I won’t be shootin’ anything for a long while, ’cept maybe a game of pool.”

“Sorry to tell you, Ernie,” the sergeant said, “but there aren’t any pool tables in jail.”