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Gregory, Jackson, 1882-1943

"Six Feet Four"

You can't. An' I'll tell you." He broke off suddenly, his
eyes burning with an anxious intensity upon Thornton's. Then, with a new
note in his voice, a half whimper, he blurted out, "Hones' to Gawd, I'll
blow my brains out before I let 'em get me again! But you wouldn't give
me away, Buck, would you? You'd remember how I stuck by you down in El
Paso, won't you, Buck? You wouldn't give a damn for ... for a reward if
they was to offer one, would you, Buck? 'Cause you know I'd shoot myself
if they got me, an' you don't forget how I stuck to you, do you, Buck?"
"No, Jimmie," came the assurance very softly. "I don't give a damn for
the reward and I don't forget. Pull yourself together, Jimmie."
"Then here it is, an' I'll give you my word, s'elp me Gawd, that every
little bit of it is like I'm tellin' you. I ain't stringin' you, Buck,
an' I am puttin' myself in your hands, like one friend with another.
That's right, ain't it?"
"That's right, Jimmie. Go ahead."
"They had me in the pen, then; you knowed that, Buck? Run me in, by
Gawd, because I happened to be havin' a drink with a man named Stenton
an' a man named Cosgrove an' a dirty Mex as was all crooked an' was
wanted for somethin' they pulled off back down there .


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