AMBUSHED!
Dobie, the hired killer, pressed the rifle against his shoulder and drew a steady bead on Blondy Graem.
“I want to look you over before I finish you off,” he said.
“I don't suppose that you've got a stand-up, face-to-face fight left in you,” Blondy taunted.
“Bah!” snarled Dobie, shaking with fury. “On foot or in the saddle, night or day, with guns, hands or knives, I can lick you, Graem, and I always could.” Then he cast the rifle aside and they faced each other.
Dobie drew clean; the gun flashed at his hip and Graem's hat lifted. But Graem's shot was true. Dobie clutched his body, whirling wildly and pitched headlong into the creek.
BLONDY GRAEM CUT ANOTHER NOTCH ON HIS GUN HANDLE.
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