Rowdy of the "Cross L"
"Brother-in-law. Yours, not mine. Jessie's tin god. If he's there yet, I bid for an invite to the 'swatfest.' Or maybe"—a horrible possibility forced itself upon Pink—"maybe you'll kill the fattest maverick and fall on his neck"
"The maverick's?" Rowdy's brows were rather pinched together, but his tone told nothing.
"Naw; Harry Conroy's. A fellow's liable to do most any fool thing when he's got schoolma'amitis."
"That so?"
Pink snorted. The possibility had grown to black certainty in his mind. He became suddenly furious.
"Lord! I hope some kind friend'll lead me out an' knock me in the head, if ever I get locoed over any darned girl!"
"Same here," agreed Rowdy, unmoved.
"Then your days are sure numbered in words uh one syllable, old-timer," snapped Pink.
Rowdy leaned and patted him caressingly upon the shoulder—a form of irony which Pink detested. "Don't get excited, sonny," he soothed. "Did you fetch your gun?"
"I sure did!" Pink drew a long breath of relief. "Yuh needn't think I'm going t' take chances on being no human colander. I've packed a gun for
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