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So his duty, as he saw it in that moment, lay in clearing them out and dispersing them, and turning deaf ears to all squeals from the shorn and skinned. Dr. Slavens and his friend had nothing to linger for. They were the first to leave, the doctor carrying Shanklin's coat under his arm, the pockets of his own greasy makeshift bulging with more money than he ever had felt the touch of before.
Well, it was interesting, at any rate, even though he didn't draw himself. In a flash he thought of Agnes and of her hopes, and her high number, and wondered whether she had gone to Meander to file. Slavens held up Shanklin's coat by the collar and ran through the pockets in the hope of finding something that would yield further particulars. There was nothing else in the coat.
Old Hun Shanklin's one of 'em," sniffed Smith, plainly disgusted that the affair had turned out so poorly. He put his weapon back in its place and took the lines. "And that feller, he don't have to go around holdin' people up with a gun in his hand," he added. "He's got a safer and surer game of it than that." "And that's no cross-eyed view of it, either," Dr. Slavens agreed.
Slavens' rugged frame as if with a new interest in beholding a common pattern which had withstood so much. He told her of meeting Mackenzie, and of finding the lost die; of the raid they had made by means of it on Shanklin's money; of his discovery of the midnight extra in the pockets of the gambler's coat.
Suddenly he jerked his head. "I'll take it!" said he. Over a greasy supper, in a tent away out on the edge of things, they arranged the details of their plot against Hun Shanklin's sure thing.
By unanimous consent, the title of the bill remained as first reported. The Bill reported to the House Mr. Eliot's Speech History Mr. Dawson vs. the Negro Mr. Garfield The Idol Broken Mr. Taylor counts the Cost Mr. Donnelly's Amendment Mr. Kerr Mr. Marshall on White Slavery Mr. Hubbard Mr. Moulton Opposition from Kentucky Mr. Ritter Mr. Rousseau's Threat Mr. Shanklin's Gloomy Prospect Mr.
With nervous fingers Slavens untied the strip of handkerchief, turned his back, and slipped off a dollar bill. This he put on the table with a cautious leaning forward and a suspicious hovering over it with the hand, playing the part so well that Shanklin's sharp old eye was entirely deceived. "You win, friend," said Shanklin, pushing five dollars across the table.
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