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THE JOYOUS TROUBLE MAKER

"Guns next time, is it, Joe?" he demanded, as Embry got slowly to his feet. "All right. Only quicker and straighter, Joe. For you'll get just one shot."

He half turned, looking for Beatrice. She had gone. With another look at Embry, he strode back to his horse.

"I'm going to get you, Bill Steele," called Embry, on his feet now, his face black with passion. "No, not now. I know I don't stand a chance in the prize ring with you. But, just the same—"

"Shut up," snapped Steele. "So long, Ed."

But, as he swung up into the saddle. Hurley was coming out toward him, calling out:

"Wait a minute. Bill. I've just got a jolt today … maybe you can help me. …"

"Not Rose?" asked Steele quickly. "Or the kid?"

"No." Hurley's dejection, which he had observed before, still stood at the back of his eyes. "It's my job. I've lost it."

Steele frowned.

"Not because of me? Your being a friend of mine?"

"No. Just because there's no job left here. The Little Giant hasn't been paying for two months. It's pinched out entirely now. We've shut down."

This was news to Steele and he lifted his brows at it. But his first thought was for Ed Hurley and, through Hurley, of Rose and little Eddie.

"Tie your baggage up in your bandanna and come over to the Goblet," he said quietly. "There's a job open for you there, Ed. No, I'm not just making it