We invariably form a mental picture of every unknown person of whom we think at all. It may be so faint that we are unconscious of it at the time, or so vivid that it is always recalled until dissipated by seeing the person himself, or his likeness. But that we do so make a picture is proved by the fact that upon being confronted by the real features of the person in question we always experience a certain amount of surprise, even when we have not been conscious of a different conception of him.
Be that as it may, however, there was no question in John Lenox’s mind as to the identity of the person who at last came briskly into the back office and interrupted his meditations. Rather under the middle height, he was broad-shouldered and deep-chested, with a clean-shaven, red face, with—not a mole—but a slight protuberance the size of half a large pea on the line from the nostril to the corner of the mouth; bald over the crown and to a line a couple of inches above the ear, below that thick and somewhat bushy hair of yellowish red, showing a mingling of gray; small but very blue eyes; a thick nose, of no classifiable shape, and a large mouth with the lips so pressed together as to produce a slightly downward and yet rather humorous curve at the corners. He was dressed in a sack coat of dark “pepper-and-salt,” with waistcoat and trousers to match. A somewhat old-fashioned standing collar, flaring away from the throat, was encircled by a red cravat, tied in a bow under his chin. A diamond stud of perhaps two carats showed in the triangle of spotless shirt front, and on his head was a cloth cap with ear lappets. He accosted our friend with, “I reckon you must be Mr. Lenox. How are you? I’m glad to see you,” tugging off a thick buckskin glove, and putting out a plump but muscular hand.
John thanked him as they shook hands, and “hoped he was well.”
“Wa’al,” said Mr. Harum, “I’m improvin’ slowly. I’ve got so ’st I c’n set up long enough to have my bed made. Come last night, I s’pose? Anybody to the deepo to bring ye over? This time o’ year once ’n a while the’ don’t nobody go over for passengers.”
John said that he had had no trouble. A man by the name of Robinson had brought him and his luggage.
“E-up!” said David with a nod, backing up to the fire which was burning in the grate of the Franklin stove, “ ‘Dug’ Robinson. ’D he do the p’lite thing in the matter of questions an’ gen’ral conversation?” he asked with a grin. John laughed in reply to this question.
“Where’d you put up?” asked David, John said that he passed the night at the Eagle Hotel. Mr. Harum had seen Dick Larrabee that morning and heard what he had to say of our friend’s reception, but he liked to get his information from original sources.
“Make ye putty comf’table?” he asked, turning to eject a mouthful into the fire.
“I got along pretty well under the circumstances,” said John.
Mr. Harum did not press the inquiry. “How’d you leave the gen’ral?” he inquired.
“He seemed to be well,” replied John, “and he wished to be kindly remembered to you.”
“Fine man, the gen’ral,” declared David, well pleased. “Fine man all ’round. Word’s as good as his bond. Yes, sir, when the gen’ral gives his warrant, I don’t care whether I see the critter or not. Know him much?”
“He and my father were old friends, and I have known him a good many years,” replied John, adding, “he has been very kind and friendly to me.”
“Set down, set down,” said Mr. Harum, pointing to a chair. Seating himself, he took off his cap and dropped it with his gloves on the floor. “How long you ben here in the office?” he asked.
“Perhaps half an hour,” was the reply.
“I meant to have ben here when you come,” said the banker, “but I got hendered about a matter of a hoss I’m looking at. I guess I’ll shut that door,” making a move toward the one into the front office.
“Allow me,” said John, getting up and closing it.
“May’s well shut the other one while you’re about it. Thank you,” as John resumed his seat. “I hain’t got nothin’ very private, but I’m ’fraid of distractin’ Timson’s mind. Did he int’duce himself?”
“Yes,” said John, “we introduced ourselves and had a few minutes conversation.”
“Gin ye his hull hist’ry an’ a few relations throwed in?”
“There was hardly time for that,” said John, smiling.
“Rubbed a little furn’ture polish into my char’cter an’ repitation?” insinuated Mr. Harum.
“Most of our talk was on the subject of his duties and responsibilities,” was John’s reply. (“Don’t cal’late to let on any more’n he cal’lates to,” thought David to himself.)
“Allowed he run the hull shebang, didn’t he?”
“He seemed to have a pretty large idea of what was required of one in his place,” admitted the witness.
“Kind o’ friendly, was he?” asked David.
“Well,” said John, “after we had talked for a while I said to him that I was glad to think that he could have no unpleasant feeling toward me, seeing that he had given up the place of his own preference, and he assured me that
