Page:The Cow Jerry (1925).pdf/279



ANJO GIBSON said he had seen too much fighting and shooting in his time to go out hunting for any more. He remained at the hotel, comfortable in his wide shirt-sleeves, a little beeswax rubbed on his mustache to hold the points up and give him that touch of debonnaire romanticism which the small routine of his daily life did not entirely justify. Mrs. Cowgill and Goosie were taking the cool of the evening with him on the green benches beside the door.

Angus Valorous was on duty with his usual prominence, his black whiskers shaved as close as razor could press the skin, but springing again like a pest of the fields. Angus was pretty well keyed up by the prospect of a fight in town. He came out every few minutes, with a quick start and a sharp slam of the screen door behind him, as if he had heard a shot, to stand on the edge of the sidewalk and listen. Presently he would turn back to his desk again, laughing his little grunting horse-laugh in the very pleasure of his excited state.

Angus came out as Banjo Gibson was making his