That gentleman seemed to be once more obstructing the
path of Good Indian. He dodged back as Grant brushed past him.
"By the great immortal Jehosaphat!" swore Baumberger, with an
ugly leer in his eyes, "I never knew before that I was so small I
couldn't be seen with the naked eye!"
"You're so small in my estimation that a molecule would look like
a hay-stack alongside you!" Good Indian lifted the skirt of
Evadna's side-saddle, and proceeded calmly to loosen the cinch.
His forehead smoothed a trifle, as if that one sentence had
relieved him of some of his bottled bitterness.
"YOU ain't shrunk up none--in your estimation," Baumberger forgot
his pose of tolerant good nature to say. His heavy jaw trembled
as if he had been overtaken with a brief attack of palsy; so also
did the hand which replaced his pipe between his loosely
quivering lips. "That little yellow-haired witch must have given
yuh the cold shoulder; but you needn't take it out on me. Had a
quarrel?" He painstakingly brushed some ashes from his sleeve,
once more the wheezing, chuckling fat man who never takes
anything very seriously.
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