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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Trailin'!"


"You know that you're wanted, and you know why," went on Glendin, "but
I've decided to give you a chance to prove that you're white men and
useful citizens. Nash has already told you what we want. It's work for
seven men against one, but that one man is apt to give you all plenty
to do. If you are--successful"--he stammered a little over the right
word--"what you have done in the past will be forgotten. Hold up your
right hands and repeat after me."
And they repeated the oath after him in a broken, drawling chorus,
stumbling over the formal, legal phraseology.
He ended, and then: "Nash, you're in charge of the gang. Do what you
want to with them, and remember that you're to get Bard back in town
unharmed--if possible."
Butch Conklin smiled, and the same smile spread grimly from face to face
among the gang. Evidently this point had already been elucidated to them
by Nash, who now mustered them out of the house and assembled them on
their horses in the street below.
"Which way do we travel?" asked Shorty Kilrain, reining close beside the
leader, as though he were anxious to disestablish any relationship with
the rest of the party.


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