"
"There's nothin' like puttin' your hand on the table."
"No, there isn't. I'll tell you what you're to do."
"Thanks."
The marshal drove straight on.
"I've got four good men in this town. Two of them will always be
hanging around your office. Maybe you can get a job for them here, eh?
I'll pay the salaries. You simply tip them off when your visitors are
riders the government wants, see? You don't have to lift a hand. You
just go to the door as the visitor leaves, and if he's all right you
say: 'So long, we'll be meeting again before long.' But if he's a man
I want, you say 'Good-bye.' That's all. My boys will see that it is
good-bye."
"Go on," said the agent, "and tell the rest of the story. It starts
well."
"Doesn't it?" agreed Calder, "and the way it concludes is with you
reaching over and shaking hands with me and saying 'yes'!"
He leaned forward. The twinkle was gone from his eyes and he extended
his hand to Hardy. The latter reached out with an impulsive gesture,
wrung the proffered hand, and then slipping back into his chair broke
into hysterical laughter.
"The real laugh," said Calder, watching his man narrowly, "will be on
the long riders.
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