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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Trailin'!"

"
Glendin whistled softly.
"Nice little start."
"Sure, and it's just a beginnin' for this Bard."
"I'll go out to Drew's place and see what he's done."
"And then start after him with a gang?"
"Sure."
"By that time he'll be a thousand miles away."
"Well?"
"I'm running this little party. Let me get a gang together. You can
swear 'em in and put me in charge. I'll guarantee to get him before
morning."
Glendin shook his head.
"It ain't legal, Steve. You know that."
"The hell with legality."
"That's what you say; but I got to hold my job."
"You'll do your part by goin' to Drew's place with Doc Young. He'll be
here with Shorty Kilrain in a minute."
"And let you go after Bard?"
"Right."
"Far's I know, you may jest shoot him down and then come back and say
you done it because he resisted arrest."
"Well?"
"You admit that's what you want, Steve?"
"Absolute."
"Well, partner, it can't be done. That ain't apprehendin' a man. It's
jest plain murder."
"D'you think you could ever catch that bird alive?"
"Dunno, I'd try.


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