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Raine, William MacLeod, 1871-1954

"Bucky O'Connor"


Instantly two shots rang out. Collins lurched forward to the
ground, drawing his revolver as he fell. Scott, twisting from his
grasp, ran in a crouch toward the alley along the shadow of the
buildings. Shots spattered against the wall as his pursuers gave
chase. When the Gold Nugget vomited from its rear door a rush of
humanity eager to see the trouble, the noise of their footsteps
was already dying in the distance.
Hawkes found his friend leaning against the back of the hack, his
revolver smoking in his hand.
"For God's sake, Val!" screamed Hawkes. "Did they get you?"
"Punctured my leg. That's all. But I expect they'll get Dailey."
"How come you to go out when I signaled you to stay?"
"Signaled me to stay, why--"
Collins stopped, unwilling to blame his friend. He knew now that
Hawkes, having mixed his drinks earlier in the evening, had mixed
his signals later.
"Get me a horse, Del, and round up two or three of the boys. I've
got to get after those fellows. They are the ones that held up
the Limited last week. Find out for me what hotel they put up at
here. I want their rooms searched.


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