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"Hold up your hands quick!" he said. The Indian dropped the bridle rein. The Inspector handed his gun to Mr. Cadwaller. "Don't shoot till I speak or I shoot you!" he said sternly. Mr. Cadwaller took the gun and covered the Indian. In a twinkling White Horse found himself with handcuffs on his wrists and his bridle line attached to the horn of the Inspector's saddle. "Now give me that gun, Mr.
Say, General, I take off my hat. Ten thousand Indians! By the holy poker! And five hundred police! How in Cain do you keep down the devils?" "We don't try to keep them down. We try to take care of them." "Guess you've hit it," said Mr. Raimes, dexterously squirting out of the door. "Jeerupiter! Say, General, some day they'll massacree yuh sure!" said Mr. Cadwaller, a note of anxiety in his voice.
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