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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Black Jack"

Terry saw cold glances
pass the rounds, and more than one dwelt upon him. He was the last to
join; if there were to be a death in this affair, he would be the least
missed of all.
A sharp order from Pollard terminated the conference and sent his men to
bed, with Pollard setting the example. But Terry lingered behind and
called back Denver.
"There is one point," he said when they were alone, "that it seems to me
the chief has overlooked."
"Talk up, kid," grinned Denver Pete. "I seen you was thinking. It sure
does me good to hear you talk. What's on your mind? Where was Joe wrong?"
"Not wrong, perhaps. But he overlooked this fact: tonight the safe is
guarded by three men only; tomorrow it will be guarded by six."
Denver stared, and then blinked.
"You mean, try the safe right in town, inside the old bank? Son, you
don't know the gents in this town. They sleep with a gat under every head
and ears that hear a pin drop in the next room--right while they're
snoring. They dream about fighting and they wake up ready to shoot."
Terry smiled at this outburst.
"How long has it been since there was a raid on McGuire's town?"
"Dunno.


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