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Updated: May 3, 2025
"Sit down there." There had been was it possible to believe it? a motion of the gun in the hands of the marshal to point this last remark. "Partner," said Andrew, stunned, "what are you drivin' at?" "I've been thinking," said Hal Dozier. "You sit tight till I tell you what about."
John Dozier Pou of Columbia; second, Miss Mildred Cunningham of Savannah; secretary, Mrs. Henry Schlesinger; treasurer, Mrs. Benjamin Elsas; organizer, Mrs. Mary Raoul Millis; auditor, Miss Genevieve Saunders, all of Atlanta. Members of the Executive Board were: Mrs. Mary Meade Owens of Augusta; Mrs. Mayhew Cunningham of Savannah; Miss Anna Griffin of Columbus; Mrs. Charles C. Harrold of Macon.
"You got your gun on Lanning off the wall before he had you covered?" asked Hal Dozier with a singular smile. "Oh, I ain't so slow with my hands," declared Pop. "I ain't half so old as I look, son! Besides, he was bleedin' to death and crazy in the head. I don't figure he even thought about his gun just then." "Why didn't you shoot him down, Pop? Or take him? There's money in him."
She also regained priceless lost ground, and when the gray came in view of the quarry again his work was all to do over again. Hal Dozier tried again in straightaway running. It had been his boast that nothing under the saddle in the mountain desert could keep away from him in a stretch of any distance, and he rode Gray Peter desperately to make his boast good. He failed.
I've killed my man. If I kill another I'll go bad. I know it. Life will mean nothing to me. I can feel it in me." His voice fell and became deeper. "Dozier, give me my chance. It's up to you. Stand aside now, and I'll get across those mountains and become a decent man. Keep me here, and I'll be a killer. I know it; you know it. Why are you after me? Because your brother was killed by me.
"Only one man I'd think twice about meeting," Allister had said in the old days, and he had been right. Yet there were thousands who had sworn that Allister was invincible that he would never fall before a single man. He thought, too, of the lean face and the peculiar, set eye of Dozier. The man had no fear, he had no nerves; he was a machine, and death was his business.
His fingers felt brittle, and his breath came and went in short gasps, drawn into the upper part of his lungs only. Behind him, like an electric force pushing him on, the outlaws watched his steps. They, also, were shuddering with fear, and he knew it. Dozier was coming, fresh from another kill.
There was a shrill yelling behind, and Andrew saw Dozier, a hand brandished above his head. He had seen Sally break down; Gray Peter would catch her; his horse would win that famous duel of speed and courage. Rifle? He had forgotten his rifle. He would go in, he would overhaul Sally, and then finish the chase with a play of revolvers. And in expectation of that end, Andrew drew his revolver.
But the men drank it in all except Henry, silent in his corner. He was relaxed, as if he slept. "But the most news is about the killing of Bill Dozier." "Ol' Bill!" grunted red-headed Jeff. "Well, I'll be hung! There's one good deed done. He was overdue, anyways." Andy, waiting breathlessly, watched lest the eye of the narrator should swing toward him for the least part of a second.
He heard men shouting in the lobby. A fighting mass jammed its way into the open, and there, in the middle of the square, sat Hal Dozier on his gray stallion. He was giving orders in a voice that rang above the crowd, and made voices hush in whispers as they heard him.
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