At this moment he was looking across the square toward the post office.
A large, broad-shouldered young man, with hair sun-bleached to a ruddy
yellow, had alighted from a buggy and entered the office. He was a fine,
bulky, upstanding farmer, built for enduring much hard labor in times of
peace and for performing feats of arms in time of war. He looked like a
fighter; he was a fighter--a willing fighter, and folks up and down the
valley stepped aside if it was noised about that Abner Levens had broken
loose. It was not that Abner delighted in the fruit of the vine nor the
essence of the maize; he was a teetotaler. But it did seem as if nature
had overdone the matter of providing him with the machinery for creating
energy and had overlooked the safety valve. Wherefore Abner, once or
twice a year, lost his temper.
Now, losing his temper was not for Abner a matter of uttering a couple
of oaths and of wrapping a hoe handle around a tree. He lost his temper
thoroughly and seemed unable to locate it again for days. He rampaged.
He roared up and down the valley, inviting one and all to step up and
be demolished, which the inhabitants were very reluctant to do, for
Abner worked upon his victims with thoroughness and enthusiasm.
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