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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"The Seventh Man"


"That's about all, friends," said the deputy crisply. "I guess there ain't
any more clamorin's for a place today?"
He swept the crowd with a complacent eye.
"If you got no objection," murmured a newcomer, who had just slipped into
the room, "I'd sort of like to take a shot at that."

Chapter XXVII. The Sixth Man
It caused a quick turning of heads.
"I don't want to put you out none," said the applicant gently. His voice
was extremely gentle, and there was about him all the shrinking aloofness
of the naturally timid. The deputy looked him over with quiet amusement--
slender fellow with the gentlest brown eyes--and then with a quick side
glance invited the crowd to get in on the joke.
"You ain't puttin' me out," he assured the other. "Not if you pay for your
own ammunition."
"Oh, yes," answered the would-be man-hunter, "I reckon I could afford
that."
He was so serious about it that the crowd murmured its amusement instead of
bursting into loud laughter. If the man was a fool, at least he was not
aggressive in his folly. They gave way and he walked slowly towards the
counter and stepped into the little open space beside the master of
ceremonies.


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