THE POCKET HUNTER 



than the sage afforded, and gave him no 

 concern. 



We came upon him often after that, 

 threading the windy passes, or by water- 

 holes in the desert hills, and got to know 

 much of his way of life. He was a small, 

 bowed man, with a face and manner and 

 speech of no character at all, as if he had 

 that faculty of small hunted things of tak- 

 ing on the protective color of his surround- 

 ings. His clothes were of no fashion that 

 I could remember, except that they bore 

 liberal markings of pot black, and he had 

 a curious fashion of going about with his 

 mouth open, which gave him a vacant look 

 until you came near enough to perceive 

 him busy about an endless hummed, word- 

 less tune. He traveled far and took a long 

 time to it, but the simplicity of his kitchen 

 arrangements was elemental. A pot for 

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