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Updated: July 28, 2025
"There was Miss P'ing!" was Chin's wife's reply. "Shouldn't you have given her a slap on the mouth?" lady Feng precipitately shouted. "As soon as I ever put my foot outside the door, she starts gadding about; and I never see so much as her shadow, when I get home. She too is bound to have had a hand in telling you something or other!" "Miss P'ing wasn't present," Chin's wife protested.
"A prince's bed in Chin's loft," thought he, "is luxury compared with this. All comfort is relative. I will sleep if I can. I shall need myself to-morrow." The croaking of frogs in the swamp and the shrill trumpeting of the mosquito army attacking his face and hands were not agreeable lullabies. As the darkness deepened, a medley of doleful noises pervaded the horrible wilderness.
But before High Chin's can touched the ground Shoop shot again. It was faster work than any present had ever seen. A man picked up the cans and brought them to the sheepman. One can had a clean hole in it. The other had two holes through it. Those nearest the marksmen wondered why Shoop had not shot twice at his own can.
"But don't you like the poem?" "I like the way your mouth looks when you read it. Your chin's nice, too, isn't it?" "Oh, I don't know," said Percival, with an unsuccessful effort at indifference; "it's the Hascombe chin. Been in the family for generations." "Think of having a chin as old as that! Perhaps that's what makes you so solemn." "Am I solemn?" "Awfully.
High Chin's eyes narrowed. "Was he ridin' that horse?" And he pointed to the black. Lorry admitted that he had found the horse tied in the brush near the Notch. High Chin swung round. "You fork your bronc and get busy. There's eighty head and over strayin' in here, and the old man ain't payin' you to entertain hobos. I'll herd this hombre to camp."
Its resolute character makes me think it was the chin's doing; that "common mortal" touch which stands in such good stead to some women. Because men, I mean really masculine men, those whose generations have evolved an ideal woman, are often very timid. Who wouldn't be before the ideal?
"I'm always keerless of my mouth," said Blunt, admitting a weakness. "Always. It don't seem to matter, like, just getting bashed in the mouth not if your chin's all right. Tastin' blood does me good. Always. But I better not 'it you again." Denton went home, to fall asleep exhausted and wake in the small hours with aching limbs and all his bruises tingling.
High Chin was still sitting his horse, his gun held muzzle up. Evidently he was not hard hit, or, if he were, he was holding himself for a final shot at Waring. Behind him, almost beneath his horse, his brother Tony had raised himself on his elbow and was fumbling with his empty gun. Waring rode slowly toward High Chin. High Chin's hand jerked down. Waring's wrist moved in answer.
Yu; and as he uttered these words he forthwith walked into the room on the off side. The object of Mrs. Chin's present visit had originally been to talk to Mrs. Ch'in about the insult which her brother had received from the hands of Ch'in Chung, but when she heard that Mrs. Ch'in was ill, she did not have the courage to even so much as make mention of the object of her errand.
He agreed to serve, with the proviso that the Starr boys or any of High Chin's friends should feel free to question his decisions. The crowd solidified back of the line, where Shoop and High Chin stood waiting for the test. The marksmen faced two bottles on a rock some thirty paces away. At the word, each was to "go for his gun" and shoot. High Chin carried his gun in the usual holster.
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