"How in nature did you escape from the creek? Didn't I
hit you when I fired?"
With the words the villain drew a revolver.
"It seems not."
"Then I'll make sure of it this time."
"This is unfair," remonstrated August, feeling that he was at the mercy
of his enemy, and anxious to gain time, for night was fast falling, and
with it the peddler and his dog would doubtless come.
"All is fair in war my friend."
"Why did you attempt to murder me last night?"
"For purposes of my own."
"You concocted a falsehood about Silas Keene and led me into a trap."
"Not entirely false," returned the villain. "The detective was hurt, and
has since died."
"Since last night?"
"No, before that, but I will not palaver with you. I set out to rid the
earth of my rival in business, and this is the way I do it."
The speaker thrust forward his revolver and fired.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A QUEER MISTAKE.
The aim of the would-be assassin was not good. His bullet flew wide of
the mark.
Why?
The deep growl of a dog was the disturbing cause.
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