Chapter 1

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_Title:_ A Lucky Dog
_Date of first publication:_ 1927
_Author:_ Frederick Schiller Faust (as John Frederick) (1892-1944)
_Date first posted:_ Nov. 25, 2018
_Date last updated:_ Nov. 25, 2018
Faded Page eBook #20181193

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[Cover Illustration]

=Other books by Max Brand:=

=FLAMING FORTUNE=
=THE RUNAWAYS=
=BLUE KINGDOM=
=JOKERS EXTRA WILD=
=CRUSADER=
=SMOKING GUNS=
=THE LONE RIDER=
=THE UNTAMED WEST= (Anthology)
=THE TYRANT=
=THE WELDING QUIRT=
=THE BRIGHT FACE OF DANGER=
=DON DIABLO=
=THE OUTLAW REDEEMER=
=THE GOLD TRAIL=
=THE PERIL TREK=
=THE MASTERMAN=
=TIMBER LINE=
=THE OVERLAND KID=
=THE HOUSE OF GOLD=
=THE GERALDI TRAIL=
=GUNMAN’S GOAL=
=CHINOOK=
=IN THE HILLS OF MONTEREY=
=THE LOST VALLEY=
=THE FUGITIVE’S MISSION=
=THE SURVIVAL OF JUAN ORO=
=THE GAUNTLET=
=STOLEN GOLD=
=THE WOLF STRAIN=
=MEN BEYOND THE LAW=
=BEYOND THE OUTPOSTS=
=THE STONE THAT SHINES=
=THE OATH OF OFFICE=
=DUST ACROSS THE RANGE/THE CROSS BRAND=
=THE ROCK OF KIEVER=
=SOFT METAL=
=THUNDER MOON AND THE SKY PEOPLE=
=RED WIND AND THUNDER MOON=
=THE LEGEND OF THUNDER MOON=
=THE QUEST OF LEE GARRISON=
=SAFETY McTEE=
=TWO SIXES=

MAX
BRAND

A LUCKY DOG

“A Lucky Dog” under the byline John Frederick first appeared in
Street & Smith’s _Western Story Magazine_ (10/22/27). Copyright
© 1927 by Street & Smith Publications, Inc.

Table of Contents

I. Entrances and Exits
II. The Tortoise and the Hare
III. “Halt!”
IV. Clean Fighting
V. A Low Hound
VI. Help
VII. Two Meet Again
VIII. A Special Kind of Dog
IX. Spooky Stuff
X. The Terrier’s Choice
XI. Out of Mischief

A Lucky Dog

I
Entrances and Exits

When at last Hagger was inside the shop, he paused and listened to the
rush of the rain against the windows. Then he turned to the jeweler with
a faint smile of possession, for the hardest part of the job was over
before he had opened the door to enter the place. During the days that
went before he had studied the entrances and exits, the value of the
contents of the place, and, when he cut the wires that ran to the alarm,
he knew that the work was finished.

So he advanced, and to conceal any touch of grimness in his approach, he
made his smile broader and said: “’Evening, Mister Friedman.”

The young man nodded with mingled anxiety and eagerness, as though he
feared loss and hoped for gain even before a bargain was broached.

“How much for this?” said Hagger, and slipped a watch onto the counter.

The other drew back, partly to bring the watch under a brighter light,
and partly to put a little distance between himself and this customer,
for Hagger was too perfectly adapted to his part. One does not need to
be told that the bull terrier is a fighting dog, and the pale face of
Hagger, square about the jaws and lighted by a cold and steady eye, was
too eloquent.

All of this Hagger knew, and he made a little pleasant conversation.
“You’re young to be holding down a swell joint like this,” he observed.

The young man snapped open the back of the watch and observed the
mechanism—one eye for it and one for his customer. “About two dollars,”
he said. “I got this place from my father,” he added in explanation.

“Two dollars? Have a heart!” Hagger grinned. “I’ll tell you what I paid.
I paid twenty-two dollars for it.”

“There are lots of rascals in the business,” said Friedman, and he made
a wry face at the thought of them.

“I got it,” said Hagger, raising his voice in increasing anger, “right
down the street at Overman’s. Twenty-two bucks. I’ll let it go for
twelve, though. That’s a bargain for you, Friedman.”

Mr. Friedman closed the watch, breathed upon it, and rubbed off an
imaginary fleck of dust with the cuff of his linen shop coat, already
blackened by similar touches. Then he pushed the watch softly across the
counter with both hands and shook his head, smiling.

“You think I want to rob you. No, I want people to keep coming back
here. Two dollars, maybe two-fifty. That’s the limit.”

“You’re kidding,” observed Hagger, his brow more dark than before.

“I got to know my business,” declared Friedman. “I’ve been at it since I
was ten, working and studying. I know watches!” He added, pointing:
“Look at that case. Look at that yellow spot. That’s the brass wearing
through. It’d be hard to sell that watch across the counter, mister.”

“Well, gimme the coin. All you birds . . . you all work together to soak
the rest of us. It’s easy money for you!”

Friedman shrugged his eloquent shoulders and turned to the cash
register.

“Here you are,” he said as he swung back, money in hand.

Hagger struck at that moment. Some people use the barrel of a revolver
for such work; some use the brutal butt, or a slung shot of massive
lead. But Hagger knew that a little sandbag of just the right weight was
fully as effective and never smashed bones; fully as effective, that is,
if one knew just where to tap with it. Hagger knew as well as any
surgeon.