"
Billy Byrne let a rather unpleasant smile curl his lips.
"No," he said, "youse ain't done nothin' to me; but you
stand for the law, damn it, and I'm going to croak everything
I meet that stands for the law. They wanted to send me up
for life--me, an innocent man. Your kind done it--the cops.
You ain't no cop; but you're just as rotten. Now say yer
prayers."
He leveled the revolver at his victim's head. The deputy
sheriff slumped to his knees and tried to embrace Billy Byrne's
legs as he pleaded for his life.
"Cut it out, you poor boob," admonished Billy. "You've
gotta die and if you was half a man you'd wanna die like
one."
The deputy sheriff slipped to the ground. His terror had
overcome him, leaving him in happy unconsciousness. Byrne
stood looking down upon the man for a moment. His wrist
was chained to that of the other, and the pull of the deputy's
body was irritating.
Byrne stooped and placed the muzzle of the revolver back
of the man's ear. "Justice!" he muttered, scornfully, and his
finger tightened upon the trigger.
Then, conjured from nothing, there rose between himself
and the unconscious man beside him the figure of a beautiful
girl. Her face was brave and smiling, and in her eyes was trust
and pride--whole worlds of them.
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