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I never heard of it. I don't know yet how, with his hands and feet manacled, he managed to kill Ollinger and Bell. I don't believe many men ever lived who could have done the same thing under the same circumstances. After that I knew that if ever I cornered him again, I'd have to kill him or he'd kill me.

"When he finally came in on me in Pete Maxwell's bedroom, I played in luck. I knew him and he didn't know me. My eyes had grown used to the darkness and I could see him from the time he came in the door. He couldn't see me at first. When at last he caught a vague glimpse of me and threw his gun on me, I was nearer death than I ever was in my life. But still he didn't recognize me; that's all that saved me. He must have thought I was some friend of Maxwell's. I killed him before he changed his mind. I had to kill him; if he had remained alive a second longer, they'd have carried me out of that room feet first. I had a shade the best of the situation. That's the only reason he's dead and I'm alive. But just as I say, he was a good, game boy—rest his soul! I wish him luck in the other world."

Garrett knew, from much personal experience, "the virtue of the drop." He never underestimated it but he viewed it philosophically, much as he did a gambler's "system" at faro—sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't.

"There's no doubt about the importance of the drop in professional matters," said Garrett. "In the old days, an officer who didn't get it when he could was a fool. With the drop on your man, you were absolute master of the situation. The crook of your trigger finger could settle all argument. But the drop didn't always have the effect you might think it would. Say a man was