The man was plump and short; unlike the natives of the locality, he was
closely cropped and shaven, as if to keep down the strong blue-blackness
of his beard and hair, which nevertheless asserted itself over his round
cheeks and upper lip like a tattooing of Indian ink. The woman at his
side was reserved and indistinctive, with that appearance of being an
unenthusiastic family servant peculiar to some men's wives. When Rand
was within a few feet of him, he started, struck a theatrical attitude,
and, shading his eyes with his hand, cried, "What, do me eyes deceive
me!" burst into a hearty laugh, darted forward, seized Rand's hand, and
shook it briskly.

"Pinkney, Pinkney, my boy! how are you? And this is your little 'prop'?
your quarter-section, your country-seat, that we've been trespassing on,
eh? A nice little spot, cool, sequestered, remote,--a trifle unimproved;
carriage-road as yet unfinished. Ha, ha! But to think of our making
a discovery of this inaccessible mountain, climbing it, sir, for two
mortal hours, christening it 'Sol's Peak,' getting up a flag-pole,
unfurling our standard to the breeze, sir, and then, by Gad, winding up
by finding Pinkney, the festive Pinkney, living on it at home!"

Completely surprised, but still perfectly good-humored, Rand shook the
stranger's right hand warmly, and received on his broad shoulders a
welcoming thwack from the left, without question. "She don't mind her
friends making free with ME evidently," said Rand to himself, as he
tried to suggest that fact to the young lady in a meaning glance.

The stranger noted his glance, and suddenly passed his hand thoughtfully
over his shaven cheeks. "No," he said--"yes, surely, I forget--yes, I
see; of course you don't! Rosy," turning to his wife, "of course Pinkney