"Howdye!" said Hale.
"Howdye!" was the low, unpropitiating answer.
The owner of the eyes was nothing but a boy, in spite of his
length: so much of a boy that a slight crack in his voice showed
that it was just past the throes of "changing," but those black
eyes burned on without swerving--except once when they flashed at
the little girl who, with her chin in her hand and one foot on the
top rung of her chair, was gazing at the stranger with equal
steadiness. She saw the boy's glance, she shifted her knees
impatiently and her little face grew sullen. Hale smiled inwardly,
for he thought he could already see the lay of the land, and he
wondered that, at such an age, such fierceness could be: so every
now and then he looked at the boy, and every time he looked, the
black eyes were on him. The mountain youth must have been almost
six feet tall, young as he was, and while he was lanky in limb he
was well knit. His jean trousers were stuffed in the top of his
boots and were tight over his knees which were well-moulded, and
that is rare with a mountaineer. A loop of black hair curved over
his forehead, down almost to his left eye.
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