the crown of his faded felt hat showed a head of hair faded to
match the color of his headgear; his greasy overalls were tucked
into boots, and a ragged Joseph's coat covered his flannel shirt.
Both the man and his makeup were thoroughly typical of this part
of the country, except in one particular--Pa Briskow possessed the
brightest, the shrewdest pair of blue eyes that Calvin Gray had
ever seen, and they were surrounded by a network of prepossessing wrinkles.

He came directly in to greet his visitor, then said: "I never
expected you'd come 'way out here an' bring your plunder with you.
Ma says you got a hull gripful o' di'mon's."

"I have, indeed." Gray pointed to the glittering display still
spread out upon the varicolored counterpane.

Briskow approached the bed and gazed curiously, silently down at
the treasure, then his face broke into a sunshiny smile. He wiped
his hands upon his trousers legs and picked up a ring. But instead
of examining the jewel, he looked at the price mark, after which
his smile broadened.

Ozark had entered behind his father, and his sister introduced him
now. He was a year or two younger than Allegheny, but cast in the
same heroic mold. They formed a massive pair of children indeed,
and, as in her case, a sullen distrust of strangers was inherent
in him. He stared coldly, resentfully, at Gray, mumbled an
unintelligible greeting, then rudely turned his back upon the
visitor and joined his father.

The elder Briskow spoke first, and it was evident that he feared