Coco walked to the mirror.
“My stars an’ garters!” she howled at sight of her face. “Skeeter Butts, is you made me look like de debbil’s wife on purpose?”
“Sure!” Skeeter whooped. “I wus ’bout to lose my bets—fawty dollars fer me an’ ten fer you——”
“Is you made me look like dis to save you money?” Coco demanded in irate tones. “You treat yo’ gwine-be wife like dat?”
“Yes’m!” Skeeter shrieked amid his paroxysms of laughter. “Oh, my honey bird—you is de dangest sight ever I did see since de day I wus borned on—whoop-ee!”
Coco suddenly snatched open the drawer of her bureau, and Skeeter saw the malignant gleam of a nickel-plated, pearl-handled revolver.
“Murder-r-r!” he shrieked as he shot through the door with the speed of a comet.
As he passed out of the door a bullet flattened against the jamb close to his face.
As he passed through the yard gate the splinters from two more bullets were shattered from the posts close beside him.
As he galloped wildly down the street two more bullets kicked up the dust around his flying feet.