His incautious foot slipped along the steep edge
of the shelving bank, and he went down, half stumbling, half sliding,
until he came to a sudden pause on the brink of the little stream. The
chase was ended, and he sat up, confused for the moment, and half
questioning the evidence of his own eyes.
A small tent, dirty and patched, stood with its back against the slope
of earth down which he had plunged. Its flap flung aside revealed
within a pile of disarranged blankets, together with some scattered
articles of wearing apparel, while just before the opening, his back
pressed against the supporting pole, an inverted pipe between his
yellow, irregular teeth, sat a hideous looking man. He was a withered,
dried-up fellow, whose age was not to be guessed, having a skin as
yellow as parchment, drawn in tight to the bones like that of a mummy,
his eyes deep sunken like wells, and his head totally devoid of hair,
although about his lean throat there was a copious fringe of iron-gray
beard, untrimmed and scraggy. Down the entire side of one cheek ran a
livid scar, while his nose was turned awry.
He sat staring at the newcomer, unwinking, his facial expression devoid
of interest, but his fingers opening and closing in apparent
nervousness.
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