I
Regarded The Man And His Hairy Companions With Silent Curiosity.
He was between forty and fifty years of age; his head, nearly bald,
was studded at the sides with
Strong, coarse, black curling hair.
His features were high, his complexion brightly dark, and his eyes,
in size, shape, and colour, greatly resembled the eyes of a hawk.
The face itself was sorrowful and taciturn; and his thin, compressed
lips looked as if they were not much accustomed to smile, or often
to unclose to hold social communion with any one. He stood at the
side of the huge hearth, silently smoking, his eyes bent on the
fire, and now and then he patted the heads of his dogs, reproving
their exuberant expression of attachment, with - "Down, Music; down,
Chance!"
"A cold, clear morning," said I, in order to attract his attention
and draw him into conversation.
A nod, without raising his head, or withdrawing his eyes from the
fire, was his only answer; and, turning from my unsociable guest,
I took up the baby, who just then awoke, sat down on a low stool by
the table, and began feeding her. During this operation, I once or
twice caught the stranger's hawk-eye fixed upon me and the child,
but word spoke he none; and presently, after whistling to his dogs,
he resumed his gun, and strode out.
When Moodie and Monaghan came in to breakfast, I told them what a
strange visitor I had had; and Moodie laughed at my vain attempt to
induce him to talk.
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