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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Black Jack"


He was laughing down at her--actually laughing, and there was no doubt as
to the sincerity of that mirth. His presence drew her and repelled her;
she became afraid for the first time in her life.
"A little formality with a gun," he said calmly. "A dog got in my way,
Kate--a mad dog. I shot the beast to keep it from doing harm."
"Ah, Terry, I know everything. I've heard Denver tell it. I know it was a
man, Terry."
He insisted carelessly. "By the Lord, Kate, only a dog--and a mad dog at
that. Perhaps there was the body of a man, but there was the soul of a
dog inside the skin. Tut! it isn't worth talking about."
She drew away from him. "Terry, God pity you. I pity you," she went on
hurriedly and faintly. "But you ain't the same any more, Terry. I--I'm
almost afraid of you!"
He tried laughingly to stop her, and in a sudden burst of hysterical
terror she fled from him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him come
after her, light as a shadow. And the shadow leaped between her and the
door; the force of her rush drove her into his arms.
In the distance she could hear the others laughing--they understood such
a game as this, and enjoyed it with all their hearts.


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