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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Black Jack"

"
"Perhaps," said Terry, grown strangely meek. "I hardly know."
Indeed, he thought, how little he really knew of himself. Suddenly he
said: "So you simply happened over this way, Shorty?"
"Sure. Why not? I got a right to trail around where I want. Besides, what
would there be in it for me--following you?"
"I don't know," said Terry gravely. "But I expect to find out sooner or
later. What else are you up to over here?"
"I have a little job in mind at the mine," said Denver. "Something that
may give the sheriff a bit of trouble." He grinned.
"Isn't it a little--unprofessional," said Terry dryly, "for you to tell
me these things?"
"Sure it is, bo--sure it is! Worst in the world. But I can always tell a
gent that can keep his mouth shut. By the way, how many jobs you been
fired from already?"
Terry started. "How do you know that?"
"I just guess at things."
"I started working for an infernal idiot," sighed Terry. "When he learned
my name, he seemed to be afraid I'd start shooting up his place one of
these days."
"Well, he was a wise gent. You ain't cut out for working, son.


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