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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"The Strange Case of Cavendish"

Lacy flung up his arms, and backed down out of view, but
just beyond where he had stood, a gun barked from out the chaparral and
a bullet crashed against the rock scarcely a foot from Brennan's head.
The latter answered it so promptly the two reports sounded almost as
one, and then rolled back into shelter, laughing as though the whole
affair was a joke.
"One ov Mike's little tricks," he chuckled, peering back at the shore,
"I know the bark of that old girl. Hope I pricked him. That guy used
to be a good shot, too, afore he got to drinkin' so much. I reckon
we're in fer a siege, Jim."
Westcott extended his hand.
"It's mighty white of you, Dan, to stay by me," he said gravely. "It's
liable to cost you your job."
"Ter hell with the job. I kin earn more in the mines eny day. I'm not
doin' eny more for you than I would fer eny other galoot in bad. I
wouldn't let 'em lynch a hoss-thief without givin' 'em a fight first.
Don't be givin' any sympathy ter me."
"But we haven't any chance."
"Well, I don't know about that now," and the marshal looked up and down
the stream thoughtfully.


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