Page:The Cow Jerry (1925).pdf/100

 observations, and dampened down the sidewalk planks. There was no question, after that proceeding, that dry weather had come back to McPacken again. Angus sprinkled very close to Banjo Gibson's feet, suspended his stream suddenly, looked up with an expression of forbearing injury, as if he had met with another public affront.

"Can't you move?" he demanded, his voice rumbling in manly threat.

"I guess I can," Banjo replied, equally injured and insulted.

"I got to sprinkle here," Angus insisted.

Banjo kept his place on the end of the bench. The watering pot was dribbling a little stream near the toe of his polished shoe.

"If your head swells any bigger," said Banjo, unimpressed by the imperative necessity of water on that particular spot, "it'll bust like a fall cabbage after a rain, When that happens to you, young feller, all that'll be left of you will be a little mist."

Banjo moved along the bench a few feet after handing out this, leaving the dry spot open to the operations of Angus.

"Ya-a-a! what's it to you!" snarled Angus, sprinkling away.

"If you ever do get to be a brakey you'll be one of the kind that thinks the train's a runnin' for your sport and pleasure, and you're doin' the passengers a favor to let 'em ride."

"Ya-a-a! what's it to you!"