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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Trailin'!"

He's mine. He b'longs all to me. D'you see that?"
"I'm only seein' one thing just now."
"I know. You think I'm double-crossin' you. Maybe I am, but I'm
desperate, Glendin."
"After all," mused the deputy, "you'd be simply doin' work I'd have to
do later. You're right about this Bard. He'll never be taken alive."
"Good ol' Glendin. I knew you'd see light. I'll go out and get the boys
I want in ten minutes. Wait here. Shorty and Doc Young will come in a
minute. One thing more: when you get to Drew's place you'll find him
actin' queer."
"What about?"
"I dunno why. It's a bad mess. You see, he's after this Bard himself,
the way I figure it, and he wants him left alone. He'd raise hell if he
knew a posse was after the tenderfoot."
"Drew's a bad one to get against me."
"I know. You think I'm double-crossin'?"
"I'll do it. But this squares all scores between us, Steve?"
"Right. It leaves the debt on my side, and you know I've never dodged an
I.O.U. Drew may talk queer. He'll tell you that Bard done all that work
in self-defence."
"Did he?"
"The point is he killed a man and stole a hoss.


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