“If you don’t stop talking like that, Jan-an–––” But Peneluna paused, for she saw the frightened look creeping into Jan-an’s dull eyes.
It was while the Point was agitated about Larry that Twombley brought forth his gun and took to cleaning it and fondling it by his doorway. This action of Twombley’s fascinated Jan-an.
“What yer going to shoot?” she asked.
“Ducks, maybe.” Twombley leered pleasantly.
“I wish yer wouldn’t.”
“Why, Jan-an?”
“Ducks ain’t so used to it as chickens. I hate to see flying things as can fly popped over.”
At this Twombley laughed aloud.
“All right, girl, I’ll hunt up something else to aim at––something that’s used to it. I ain’t saying I’ll hit anything, but aimin’ and finding out how steady yer hand is ain’t lacking in sport.”
So Twombley erected a target and enlivened and startled the Point by his practise. Maclin, after a few weeks of absence from the Point, called occasionally on his private agent and he was displeased by Twombley’s new amusement.