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Fox, John, 1863-1919

"The Trail of the Lonesome Pine"

"
"Then we'll take him to the county jail."
"They'll take him away from us."
"No, they won't. You go out and get as many shotguns as you can
find and load them with buckshot."
Macfarlan nodded approvingly and disappeared. Hale plunged his
face in a basin of cold water, soaked his hair and, as he was
mopping his face with a towel, there was a ponderous tread on the
porch, the door opened without the formality of a knock, and Devil
Judd Tolliver, with his hat on and belted with two huge pistols,
stepped stooping within. His eyes, red with anger and loss of
sleep, were glaring, and his heavy moustache and beard showed the
twitching of his mouth.
"Whar's Dave?" he said shortly.
"In the calaboose."
"Did you put him in?"
"Yes," said Hale calmly.
"Well, by God," the old man said with repressed fury, "you can't
git him out too soon if you want to save trouble."
"Look here, Judd," said Hale seriously. "You are one of the last
men in the world I want to have trouble with for many reasons; but
I'm an officer over here and I'm no more afraid of you"--Hale
paused to let that fact sink in and it did--"than you are of me.


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