"
"Youngster, eh?" snarled the boy, whose wrath seemed implacable. "I
can make my draw and start my gun as fast as any man--except them two,
maybe"--he lowered his voice somewhat even to name them--"Pierre--McGurk!"
"It seems hopeless to find out anything about McGurk," said Mary, "but
at least you can tell me safely about Red Pierre."
"Interested in him, eh?" said the boy dryly.
"Well, he's a rather romantic figure, don't you think?" "Romantic?
Lady, about a month ago I was talking with a lady that was a widow
because of Red Pierre. She didn't think him none too romantic."
"Red Pierre had killed the woman's husband?" repeated Mary, with pale
lips.
"Yep. He was one of the gang that took a chance with Pierre and got
bumped off. Had three bullets in him and dropped without getting his
gun out of the leather. Pierre sure does a nice, artistic job. He
serves you a murder with all the trimmings. If I wanted to die nice
and polite without making a mess, I don't know who I'd rather go to
than Red Pierre."
"A murderer!" whispered Mary, with bowed head.
Pages:
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253