the beginning of himself. He heard nothing about him; he saw nothing of
the territory which whirled past the window. They were already far West
before a man boarded the train and carried to Bard the whole atmosphere
of the mountain desert.

He got on the train at a Nebraska station and Anthony sat up to watch,
for a man of importance does not need size in order to have a mien.
Napoleon struck awe through the most gallant of his hero marshals, and
even the porter treated this little brown man with a respect that was
ludicrous at first glimpse.

He was so ugly that one smiled on glancing at him. His face, built on
the plan of a wedge, was extremely narrow in front, with a long,
high-bridged nose, slanting forehead, thin-lipped mouth, and a chin that
jutted out to a point, but going back all the lines flared out like a
reversed vista. A ridge of muscle crested each side of the broad jaws
and the ears flaunted out behind so that he seemed to have been built
for travelling through the wind.

The same wind, perhaps, had blown the hair away from the upper part of
his forehead, leaving him quite bald half way back on his head, where a
veritable forest of hair began, and continued, growing thicker and
longer, until it brushed the collar of his coat behind.

When he entered the car he stood eying his seat for a long moment like a
dog choosing the softest place on the floor before it lies down. Then he
took his place and sat with his hands folded in his lap, moveless,
speechless, with the little keen eyes straight before him--three hours
that state continued. Then he got up and Anthony followed him to the
diner. They sat at the same table.