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       Max BrandFrederick Schiller Faust

      Harrigan!

      Historical Novel

      Published by

      Books

      - Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting -

       [email protected]

      2017 OK Publishing

      ISBN 978-80-272-2610-8

      Table of Contents

       CHAPTER 1

       CHAPTER 2

       CHAPTER 3

       CHAPTER 4

       CHAPTER 5

       CHAPTER 6

       CHAPTER 7

       CHAPTER 8

       CHAPTER 9

       CHAPTER 10

       CHAPTER 11

       CHAPTER 12

       CHAPTER 13

       CHAPTER 14

       CHAPTER 15

       CHAPTER 16

       CHAPTER 17

       CHAPTER 18

       CHAPTER 19

       CHAPTER 20

       CHAPTER 21

       CHAPTER 22

       CHAPTER 23

       CHAPTER 24

       CHAPTER 25

       CHAPTER 26

       CHAPTER 27

       CHAPTER 28

       CHAPTER 29

       CHAPTER 30

       CHAPTER 31

       CHAPTER 32

       CHAPTER 33

       CHAPTER 34

       CHAPTER 35

       CHAPTER 36

       CHAPTER 37

       CHAPTER 38

       CHAPTER 39

      CHAPTER 1

       Table of Contents

      “That fellow with the red hair,” said the police captain as he pointed.

      “I’ll watch him,” the sergeant answered.

      The captain had raided two opium dens the day before, and the pride of accomplishment puffed his chest. He would have given advice to the sheriff of Oahu that evening.

      He went on: “I can pick some men out of the crowd by the way they walk, and others by their eyes. That fellow has it written all over him.”

      The red-headed man came nearer through the crowd. Because of the warmth, he had stuffed his soft hat into a back pocket, and now the light from a window shone steadily on his hair and made a fire of it, a danger signal. He encountered the searching glances of the two officers and answered with cold, measuring eyes, like the gaze of a prize fighter who waits for a blow. The sergeant turned to his superior with a grunt.

      “You’re right,” he nodded.

      “Trail him,” said the captain, “and take a man with you. If that fellow gets into trouble, you may need help.”

      He stepped into his automobile and the sergeant beckoned to a nearby policeman.

      “Akana,” he said, “we have a man-sized job tonight. Are you feeling fit?”

      The Kanaka smiled without enthusiasm.

      “The man of the red hair?”

      The sergeant nodded, and Akana tightened his belt. He had eaten fish baked in ti leaves that evening.

      He suggested: “Morley has little to do. His beat is quiet. Shall I tell him to come with us?”

      “No,” grinned the sergeant, and then looked up and watched the broad shoulders of the red-haired man, who advanced through the crowd as the prow of a ship lunges through the waves. “Go get Morley,” he said abruptly.

      But Harrigan went on his way without misgivings, not that he forgot the policeman, but he was accustomed to stand under the suspicious eye of the law.

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