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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Black Jack"


"Don't try nothing till you see me put my hand into my beard, boys. He
don't mean much so long as he's come alone."
Marvin drew back the door. Terry saw a man with shoulders of martial
squareness enter. And there was a touch of the military in his brisk step
and the curt nod he sent at Marvin as he passed the latter. He had not
taken off his sombrero. It cast a heavy shadow across the upper part of
his worn, sad face.
"Evening, sheriff," came from Pollard, and a muttered chorus from the
others repeated the greeting. The sheriff cast his glance over them like
a schoolteacher about to deliver a lecture.
"Evening, boys."
"Sit down, McGuire."
"I'm only staying a minute. I'll talk standing." It was a declaration of
war.
"I guess this is the first time I been up here, Pollard?"
"The very first, sheriff."
"Well, if I been kind of neglectful, it ain't that I'm not interested in
you-all a heap!"
He brought it out with a faint smile; there was no response to that
mirth.
"Matter of fact, I been keeping my eye on you fellows right along. Now, I
ain't up here to do no accusing.


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