speech about the troubles he had passed through and the bullets he had escaped. Burning as Angus was to tear off into the dark and find out what had happened or was going to happen to the cow jerry, nothing short of a raging battle could have drawn him away from his duty at the hotel.
Not so much that Angus was exceedingly loyal, as that he was inordinately egotistical. He believed the establishment depended on his clerkly services, which were mainly looking at the Police Gazette and waiting, behind the little counter at night. It was a poor, lame, tottering establishment which must be shored up by his dignity. The withdrawal of his effulgent presence for an hour during the night watches would throw it into chaos and hopeless ruin.
Banjo Gibson was not a favored person in the sight of Angus Valorous. Indeed, he despised the little musician for many reasons, most of them good enough reasons, too, for many a true bill would have lain against the care-free, laughing drone. Now, hearing him say he would not move a foot to learn what was going on around the depot, when he was free to go any minute without disaster smashing down behind him like a falling wall, Angus could not restrain a contemptuous snort. The sound nettled Banjo. He resented it as sharply as he would a clumsy foot on one of his brightly polished shoes.
"What're you gruntin' about? you big-headed chessie cat!" Banjo asked, with a sound like a fighting edge
