double strong at the next exhalation. "Gee whiz!" he whispered.

The stranger slowly turned his head and looked coldly upon the impudent
disturber of his reverent reflections. "Meaning?" he questioned, with
an upward slant in his voice. The neck-kerchief seemed to grow suddenly
malignant and about to spring. "Meaning?" repeated the other with great
insolence, while his eyes looked a challenge.

While Hopalong's eyes left the scrambled color-insult and tried to
banish the horrible after-image, his mind groped for the rules of
etiquette governing free fist fights in gospel tents, and while he
hesitated as to whether he should dent the classic profile of the
color-bearer or just twist his nose as a sign of displeasure, the voice
of the evangelist arose to a roar and thundered out. Hopalong ducked
instinctively.

"--Stop! Stop before it is too late, before death takes you in the
wallow of your sins! Repent and gain salvation--"

Hopalong felt relieved, but his face retained its expression of
childlike innocence even after he realized that he was not being
personally addressed; and he glanced around. It took him ninety-seven
seconds to see everything there was to be seen, and his eyes were drawn
irresistibly back to the stranger's kerchief. "Awful! Awful thing for
a drinking man to wear, or run up against unexpectedly!" he muttered,
blinking. "Worse than snakes," he added thoughtfully.

"Look ahere, you--" began the owner of the offensive decoration, if it
might be called such, but the evangelist drowned his voice in another
flight of eloquence.