"
"The hell!" murmured the other. "The hell! Poor kid. That was a rotten
lay, all right. If I'd known about that, I'd of--but I didn't. Well, let
it go. Here we are together. And you're the sort of a sidekick I need.
Black Jack, we're going to trim this town to a fare-thee-well!"
"My name is Hollis," said Terry. "Terence Hollis."
"Terence hell," snorted the other. "You're Black Jack's kid, ain't you?
And ain't his moniker good enough for you to work under? Why, kid, that's
a trademark most of us would give ten thousand cash for!"
He broke off and regarded Terry with a growing satisfaction.
"You're his kid, all right. This is just the way Black Jack would of
sat--cool as ice--with a gang under him talking about stretching his
neck. And now, bo, hark to me sing! I got the job fixed and--But wait a
minute. What you been doing all these years? Black Jack was known when he
was your age!"
With a peculiar thrill of awe and of aversion Terry watched the face of
the man who had known his father so well. He tried to make himself
believe that twenty-four years ago Denver might have been quite another
type of man.
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