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 part of them related to a search of the heavens for the Angel Gabriel, part of them to a mundane exploration of the environs for himself.

"We'll go in here," he said.

Texas was in no mood for receiving either the credit or the thanks of Uncle Boley and Mrs. McCoy. He never wanted to be known in the transaction if he could keep his part in it covered, and the thought that it might come out on him before he could get away from Cottonwood made him cross. He cared little whether Noggle wanted his custom in that shop or not.

Noggle was contemplating the reflection of his own charms in the glass, adding a little powder here, smoothing an eyebrow there, giving a turn to the end of his long mustache with his beautiful soft fingrs. He turned with a hand still at the curling end of that adornment, to see who was breaking in upon his preening hour for a shave.

"Bennie, sit down and read the paper till I'm through," Texas directed.

"Good merning," said Noggle, pronouncing the good old word with a gimlet-hole sound. There would have been no distinction in saying it like everybody else in Cottonwood, and no style.

"Hi're you, sir?" Texas returned, his fingers busy with his cravat, his coat already on the hook. "I want a hair-cut and shave."