It had been driven into the man's left side just
under the fleshy part of the shoulder, and it was plain that its point
had found a vital spot--probably through the lung and near the heart,
for the man was limp and helpless, his breath coughed in his throat,
and it was certain that he had not many minutes to live. Calumet
carefully withdrew the weapon, and the man settled back with a sigh of
relief.
"You're Marston, ain't you?" he said, slowly and painfully, gasping
with every breath. "I've heard the Taggart's talk about you. Old
Tom's developed a yellow streak in his old age an' he's leavin' all his
dirty work to Neal. Neal's got a yellow streak, too, for that matter,
but he's young an' ain't got no sense. I reckon I'm goin' somewhere
now, an' so I can say what I like. Taggart ain't no friend of
mine--neither of them. They've played me dirt--more than once. My
name's Al Sharp. You know that Tom Taggart was as deep in that idol
business as your dad was. He told me. But he's got Telza soft-soaped
into thinkin' that Betty Clayton's folks snaked it from Telza's people.
Taggart's got evidence that your dad planted the idol around here
somewheres--seems to know that your dad drawed a diagram of the place
an' left it with Betty. He set Telza to huntin' for it. Telza got it
tonight--it was hid somewhere.
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