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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Trailin'!"

"Stand away. This
is a man's work."
"The work of a pack of coyotes!" she cried shrilly. "What d'ye mean?"
She turned on them fiercely.
"Are you goin' to murder a tenderfoot among you? One that ain't done no
real harm? I don't believe my eyes. You, there, Shorty Kilrain, I've
waited on you with my own hands. You've played the man with me. Are you
goin' to play the dog now? Jansen, you was tellin' me about a blue-eyed
girl in Sweden; have you forgot about her now? And Calamity Ben! My God,
ain't there a man among you to step over here and join the two of us?"
They were shaken, but the memory of Drew quelled them.
"They's no harm intended him, on my honour, Sally," said Lawlor. "All
he's got to do is give up his gun--and--and"--he finished weakly--"let
his hands be tied."
"Is that all?" said Sally scornfully.
"Don't follow me, Sally," said Bard. "Stay out of this. Boys, you may
have been paid high, but I don't think you've been paid high enough to
risk taking a chance with me. If you put me out with the first shot that
ends it, of course, but the chances are that I'll be alive when I hit
the floor, and if I am, I'll have my gun working--and I won't miss.


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