"Oh, dead as a doornail, Elizabeth. Very neat shot. Youngster that dropped him; boy named Joe Minter. Six thousand dollars for Joe. Nice little nest egg to build a fortune on, eh?"
"Six thousand dollars! What do you mean, Vance?"
"The price on the head of Jack Hollis. That was Hollis, sis. The celebrated Black Jack."
"But--this is only a boy, Vance. He couldn't have been more than twenty- five years old."
"That's all."
"But I've heard of him for ten years, very nearly. And always as a man- killer. It can't be Black Jack."
"I said the same thing, but it's Black Jack, well enough. He started out when he was sixteen, they say, and he's been raising the devil ever since. You should have seen them pick him up--as if he were asleep, and not dead. What a body! Lithe as a panther. No larger
