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nydus/Continental Op StoriesPublic

A collection of short stories about an unnamed agent of a detective agency in the early 1920s.

Page 721 of 1257
Table of Contents

XVI

“Put it away!” I ordered, though I knew the words were wasted.

“It’s me or you!” he repeated, and put another bullet into the ground in front of me. “Warm your iron!”

I stopped looking for an out. Blood thickened in my head, and things began to look queer. I could feel my neck thickening. I hoped I wasn’t going to get too mad to shoot straight.

I went for my gun.

He gave me an even break.

His gun swung down to me as mine straightened to him.

We pulled triggers together.

Flame jumped at me.

I smacked the ground⁠—my right side all numb.

He was staring at me⁠—bewildered. I stopped staring at him, and looked at my gun⁠—the gun that had only clicked when I pulled the trigger!

When I looked up again, he was coming toward me, slowly, his gun hanging at his side.

“Played it safe, huh?” I raised my gun so he could see the broken firing-pin. “Serves me right for leaving it on the bed when I went downstairs for water.”

Milk River dropped his gun⁠—grabbed mine.

Clio Landes came running from the hotel to him.

“You’re not⁠—?”

Milk River stuck my gun in her face.

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