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They spurred their horses back across the creek and ran to rescue the girl. But she had flung herself forward face down far out of their reach. They dared not venture into the quivering bog after her. While they still stared in a frozen horror, the tragedy was completed. The victim of their revenge had disappeared beneath the surface of the morass. "Call Me Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em"

There has been a lot too much promiscuous killing and he's one of the worst of the lot, your Jim Clanton is. Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em, indeed! I hope the law goes and gets him now it has a chance." The opinion of Lee's aunt was in accord with the general sentiment. Washington County had within the past year suffered a change of heart.

Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em may not have been the best target shot on the border, but give him a man behind a spitting revolver as his mark and he could throw bullets with swifter, deadlier accuracy than any old-timer of them all. He did not take the time to aim; it was enough for him to look at his opponent as he fired. The young fellow swung his horse expertly and cantered into the mesquite.

Suits me if he does you." The foreman turned insolently to the newcomer. "What'd you say your name was, sissie?" The eyes of the boy, behind narrowed lids, grew hard as steel. "Call me Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em," he drawled in a soft voice, every syllable distinct. There was a moment of chill silence. A swift surprise had flared into the eyes of the foreman.

One of these days there's sure goin' to be sudden trouble." "I'm no gunman," protested Clanton indignantly. "I hired out to the old man to punch cows. Whyfor should I take any chances with the Snaith-McRobert outfit when I ain't got a thing in the world against them?" "No, you're no gunman," grinned his friend in amiable derision. "Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em is a quiet little Sunday-go-to-meetin' kid.

That's no way for a white man to attack his enemies." But the inheritance from feudist ancestors was strong in young Clanton. He had seen a comrade murdered in cold blood. All the training of his primitive and elemental nature called for vengeance. "No use beefin', Billie. You don't have to go if you don't want to. But I'm goin'. I didn't christen myself Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em for nothin'."

It's shorter than the way they took. Where the gulches come together be waitin' an' git 'em from the brush. There's just one slim chance you'll make it an' come back alive." The boy's eyes were shining. "Suits me fine. I'll go earn that name I christened myself Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em." Billie, his face twisted with pain, watched the youngster disappear at a breakneck gallop into Escondido.

Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em laughed with friendly malice. "I used to have hopes, too, in that direction, Lee, but I haven't any more. You be good to her or we also-rans will boil you in oil, Billie." Sheriff Prince Functions "Yippy yip yip yip!" Old Reb, Quantrell's ex-guerrilla, now boss of mule-skinners for Prince, galloped down the street waving an old dusty white hat.

Near the summit Jean with the buckboard met the party from the cañon. He helped Clanton to the seat and drove to the house. Webb cantered up. "What's this I hear about you, Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em? They tell me you've made four good Injuns to-day, shot up a renegade, rescued this young lady here, 'most rode one of my horses to death, an' got stove up in the foot yore own self.

"That's not the way Billie tells it. Anyhow, you-all made a great gather between you. Six 'Paches that will never smile again ought to give the raiders a pain." "Don't you think we'd better get him to bed?" said Pauline gently. "You're shoutin', ma'am," agreed Webb. "Roubideau, the little boss says Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em is to be put to bed.