Take
'eed you don't 'ear something one of these days."
In the restless nights, after he had been asleep all day, fits of blind rage
came upon Simmons and held him till he trembled all over, while he thought in
how many different ways he would slay Losson. Sometimes he would picture
himself trampling the life out of the man, with heavy ammunition-boots, and at
others smashing in his face with the butt, and at others jumping on his
shoulders and dragging the head back till the neckbone cracked. Then his mouth
would feel hot and fevered, and he would reach out for another sup of the beer
in the pannikin.
But the fancy that came to him most frequently and stayed with him longest was
one connected with the great roll of fat under Losson's right ear. He noticed
it first on a moonlight night, and thereafter it was always before his eyes.
It was a fascinating roll of fat. A man could get his hand upon it and tear
away one side of the neck; or he could place the muzzle of a rifle on it and
blow away all the head in a flash. Losson had no right to be sleek and
contented and well-to-do, when he, Simmons, was the butt of the room, Some
day, perhaps, he would show those who laughed at the "Simmons, ye so-oor"
joke, that he was as good as the rest, and held a man's life in the crook of
his forefinger.
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