I
saw him once in a towering rage because one of his
herdsmen had permitted a travel-heated Asian to
slake his thirst at the horse-trough in front of the
saloon end of Jo.'s establishment. I ventured faintly
to remonstrate with Jo. for his unchristian spirit,
but he merely explained that there was nothing
about Chinamen in the New Testament, and strode
away to wreak his displeasure upon his dog, which
also, I suppose, the inspired scribes had overlooked.
Some days afterward, finding him sitting alone
in his bar-room, I cautiously approached the sub-
ject, when, greatly to my relief, the habitual aus-
terity of his expression visibly softened into some-
thing that I took for condescension.
'You young Easterners,' he said, 'are a mile-and-
a-half too good for this country, and you don't
catch on to our play. People who don't know a
Chileno from a Kanaka can afford to hang out
liberal ideas about Chinese immigration, but a fellow
that has to fight for his bone with a lot of mongrel
coolies hasn't any time for foolishness.'
This long consumer, who had probably never
done an honest day's work in his life, sprung the
lid of a Chinese tobacco-box and with thumb and
forefinger forked out a wad like a small haycock.
Holding this reinforcement within supporting dis-
tance he fired away with renewed confidence.
'They're a flight of devouring locusts, and they're
going for everything green in this God blest land, if
you want to know.
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