Gizzard noted the lack of cordiality, and with all the directness of his twelve years started in to probe it to the bottom.
"Been gettin' a lickin'?" he inquired as he seated himself in front of his companion.
"No, I ain't," grunted Sube.
"Then what's the matter of you?"
"Who said an'thing was?"
At this moment Gizzard caught a whiff of the unspeakable aroma. His face lighted up at once. "Been hurt?" he asked eagerly.
Sube shook his head.
Obviously disappointed, Gizzard pursued his inquiries. "Then what makes you smell so much like a horse doctor?" he asked.
Sube was in deep water. He couldn't tell Gizzard the truth about the mustache! But what could he tell? As nothing occurred to him, he made a bluff at mumbling that he didn't "smell nuthin'," thereby arousing Gizzard's compassionate derision.
At this tense moment there popped into Sube's mind an interesting bit of news that he had gleaned from his eaves-dropping outside the library door during the doctor's visit, and thinking that he might, by telling it, distract Gizzard's attention from his quest of the engaging odor, Sube dramatically glanced around as if to make sure that nobody was near, and whispered behind his hand: