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Gregory, Jackson, 1882-1943

"Six Feet Four"

Then he banged his first down upon the table, his
eyes grown wonderfully bright and keen, crying softly, "I've got him,
I've got him at last, and he's going to pay to the uttermost for all he
has done in the last seven years ... and before! Got him--by thunder!"
"Pollard?" asked the cowboy quickly.
"No. Not Pollard."
"Then Broderick?"
"Not Broderick."
"Bedloe?... The Kid?"
"What does his name matter? I'll give him a dozen names when the time
comes, and by heaven he's got a crime to pay for for every name he ever
wore!"
He grew suddenly silent and sat staring out through the open door at the
distant mountains. At last he turned back toward Thornton, his eyes very
clear, his expression placid.
"Guess why they are waiting five days more before springing their mine?"
he asked abruptly.
"Yes. I figured it out a little while ago, after I found the truck in my
loft. In five days it'll be the first of the month. On the first of the
month the stage from the Rock Creek Mines will be worth holding up. It
carried in ten thousand dollars last month. At times, there has been a
lot more. Just as sure as a hen lays eggs, it is due to be robbed on the
first; they'll find something here to prove I was the hold up man, and
I.


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