ng,
scanning the acrid, wizened face with its protruding black eyes, the
dried-up figure in a baggy suit of blue, a white collar turned down
nearly to the shoulders, and the gray hair knotted in a queue. He looked
at the landlord, scowling at the interruption: M. Soule, on the
contrary, spoke heartily, as if suddenly relieved of a bore.

"Of course, of course, Starr; I'll be off by four. I'll saddle my own
horse,--no need to disturb any of your people; let them sleep on
Christmas at least, poor devils. The partridges about here are really
worth tasting," turning to Frazier, "and Starr tells me of a mythical
deer back in the hills. You see," with a bow, "it will not be possible
for me to breakfast with you. I'll see you at Pittsburg about those
snares,--say, on Monday."

"Yes," buttoning his coat, with a furtive glance of contempt at Soule's
burly figure and eager face. Was this the far-famed Nimrod of the
money-hunt? "I'll say to Pryor you had other game on hand to-day."

"Other game,--yes," with a sudden gravity,--pushing his hair back, and
looking in the fire, while the old man made his formal adieus to his
wife. They lasted some time, for Madame Soule was a courtly little body,
with all her quiet.

"I must make an early start, too," said Frazier, turning again. "Glad of
the chance to take a bracing ride. Banks closed to-morrow, so no time's
lost, eh? Well, good night, Soule," perceiving that the other did not
see his outstretched hand; "don't come down; good night"; and so
shuffled down the stairs.

"Pah!" said Soule, with a breath of relief. "His blood's like water. He
never owed a dollar, and never gave one away."

The usual genial laugh came back to his face, as he turned to Madame
Soule and began to romp with the baby lying in her lap. He was a tall
man, about six feet high, with a handsome face, red hair, a frank blue
eye, and a natural, genuine laugh. Whatever else history may record of
him, a man of generous blood and sensitive instincts. His subdued dress,
quiet voice, suited him, were indigenous to his nature, not assumed:
even Starr could see that. Starr used afterwards, when they became the
country's gossip, to talk of little traits in these people, showing the
purity of their refinement. To this day he believes in them. How
unostentatious their kindness was: the delicate, scentless air that hung
about them: the fresh flowers always near. "Eating with iron forks, an'
not a word,--my silver being pac