It was Tatpan who told him that an hour or two before an
exhausted stranger had come into camp, looking for him, and that the man
was asleep now, apparently more dead than alive, but had given
instructions to be awakened at the end of two hours, and not a minute
later. Together they had a look at him.
He was a small, ruddy-faced man with carroty blond hair and a peculiarly
boyish appearance as he lay doubled up like a jack-knife, profoundly
asleep. Tatpan looked at his big, silver watch and in a low voice
described how the stranger had stumbled into camp, so tired he could
scarcely put one foot ahead of the other; and that he had dropped down
where he now lay when he learned Alan was with one of the other herds.
"He must have come a long distance," said Tatpan, "and he has traveled
fast."
Something familiar about the man grew upon Alan. Yet he could not place
him. He wore a gun, which he had unbelted and placed within reach of
his hand on the grass. His chin was pugnaciously prominent, and in sleep
the mysterious stranger had crooked a forefinger and thumb about his
revolver in a way that spoke of caution and experience.
"If he is in such a hurry to see me, you might awaken him," said Alan.
He turned a little aside and knelt to drink at a tiny stream of water
that ran down from the snowy summits, and he could hear Tatpan rousing
the stranger.
Pages:
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249