purple.

Later observation taught the little boy that this splendid hue was applied
at intervals by Cousin Bill J. himself. He did it daintily with a small
brush, every time the moustache began to show a bit rusty at the roots;
Bernal never failed to be present at this ceremony; nor to resolve that
his own moustache, when it came, should be as scrupulously cared for--not
left, like Dr. Crealock's, for example, to become speckled and gray.

Cousin Bill J.'s garments were as splendid as his character. He had an
overcoat and cap made from a buffalo hide; his high-heeled boots had
maroon tops set with purple crescents; his watch-charm was a large gold
horse in full gallop; his cravat was an extensive area of scarlet satin in
the midst of which was caught a precious stone as large as a robin's egg;
and in smoking, which his physician had prescribed, he used a superb
meerschaum cigar-holder, all tinted a golden brown, upon which lightly
perched a carven angel dressed like those that ride the big white horse in
the circus.

But aside from these mere matters of form, Cousin Bill J. was a man with a
history. Some years before he had sprained his back, since which time he
had been unable to perform hard labour; but prior to that mishap he had
been a perfect specimen of physical manhood--one whose prowess had been
the marvel of an extensive territory. He had split and laid up his three
hundred and fifty rails many a day, when strong men beside him had
blushingly to stop with three hundred or thereabouts; he had also cradled
his four acres of grain in a day, and he could break the wildest horse
ever known. Even the great Budd Doble, whom he personally knew, had said
more than once, and in the presence of unimpeachable witnesses, that in
some ways he, Budd Doble, knew less about a horse than Cousin Bill J. did.
The little boy was wrought to enthusiasm by this tribute, resolving always
to remember to say "hoss" for horse; and, though he had not heard of Budd
Doble before, the name was magnetic for him. After you said it over
several times he thought it made you feel as if you had a cold in your
head.

Still further, Cousin Bill J. could throw his thumbs out of joint, sing
tenor in the choir, charm away warts, recite "Roger and I" and "The Death
of Little Nell," and he knew all the things that would make boys grow
fast, like bringing in wood, splitting kindling, putting down hay for the
cow, and other out-of-door exercises that had