When he entered the car he stood eying his seat for a long moment like a
dog choosing the softest place on the floor before it lies down. Then he
took his place and sat with his hands folded in his lap, moveless,
speechless, with the little keen eyes straight before him--three hours
that state continued. Then he got up and Anthony followed him to the
diner. They sat at the same table.
"The journey," said Anthony, "is pretty tiresome through monotonous
scenery like this."
The little keen eyes surveyed him a moment before the man spoke.
"There was buffalo on them plains once."
If someone had said to an ignorant questioner, "This little knoll is
called Bunker Hill," he could not have been more abashed than was
Anthony, who glanced through the window at the dreary prospect, looked
back again, and found that the sharp eyes once more looked straight
ahead without the slightest light of triumph in his coup. Silence,
apparently, did not in the least abash this man.
"Know a good deal about buffaloes?"
"Yes."
It was not the insulting curtness of one who wishes to be left in peace,
but simply a statement of bald fact.
Pages:
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76