Page:The Cow Jerry (1925).pdf/303

 Windy Moore was at the farther end of the hall, his shirt off, his shoes off, his bulldog pistol in his hand.

"They took a shot at me!" he panted: "they took a shot at me through the winder!"

"My God! the whistle's a blowin'!" Mrs. Cowgill gasped.

"Who was it?" Angus demanded in rough, hoarse challenge.

"Feller on a horse—I saw him lopin' off!" Windy replied.

"I smell powder," said Angus, sniffing, alert as a hound.

"I was settin' by the winder—he rode right up," said Windy.

The railroaders were waking; deep voices were growling in the rooms. Windy ran back for his shoes; Angus swung around the newel post with admirable, agility, disappearing down the stairs.

"My God! listen to that whistle!" Mrs. Cowgill appealed.

Myron appeared in the door behind her, his simple toilet of overalls and shirt complete. He leaned against the wall to slip his feet into his congress gaiters, when he stood ready to observe from a discreet and neutral safety all that might come to pass.

"There's goin' to be bloodshed," he announced calmly, as if he spoke of rain.

Louise was unable to say anything at all. She stood staring as if she looked on the wreckage of some frightful disaster that her own meddlesome folly had caused.