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Updated: June 26, 2025
By some perverse trick of fate his glance fell on Doble's sinister face of malignant triumph. His self-control snapped, and in an instant the whole course of his life was deflected from the path it would otherwise have taken. With a flip he tossed up the tin cup so that the hot coffee soused the crook. "Goddlemighty!" screamed Doble, leaping to his feet.
Dug Doble's big frame filled the entrance. The eyes of the two gunmen searched each other. Those of Doble asked a question. Had it come to a showdown? Steelman sidled over to the desk where he worked and sat down in front of it. His right hand dropped into an open drawer, apparently carelessly and without intent. Shorty knew at once that Doble had been drinking heavily.
"I need that supper in my system. I sure do, but I reckon I don't get it." "You do not, old lizard," agreed Hart. "I'll say Doble's the most inconsiderate guy I ever did trail. Why couldn't he 'a' showed up a half-hour later, dad gum his ornery hide?" They paid their bill and passed into the street. Immediately the sound of a clear, high voice arrested their attention.
We'll drift down and sit in." When Bob returned he found the big cattleman examining Doble's revolver. He broke the shotgun to make sure it was loaded. Then, "We'll travel," he said coolly. The battle sounds below had died away. From the landing they looked down into the hall and saw a bar of light that came through a partly open door. Voices were lifted in excitement.
"It relieves my mind some to tell you what a yellow coyote you are," explained the cattleman. "You got about as much sand as a brush rabbit and I'd trust you as far as I would a rattler, you damned sidewinder." Bob tried the door. The knob turned in his hand and the door slowly opened inward. The rattle of the latch brought George Doble's sly, shifty eye round.
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