Page:Paine--J Archibauld McKaney collector of whiskers.djvu/23

  the owner he carelessly dropped a match in his whiskers, and they were utterly consumed. I wept at the news and am not ashamed of it."

Without more delay I plunged down the slope, clumsily leaped the brook and crawled over the stone wall of the pasture. The stranger was advancing at a leisurely gait, and as he halted to fill and light his pipe I shivered with an apprehension inspired by the recollection of the tragic experience which I had just called to mind. My quarry was a middle-aged, stocky person, whose features and garments were battered to the edge of the disreputable. Above his flaming beard emerged a sun-burnt cheek, and beneath his shaggy red brows twinkled a merry and unabashed eye. As we met in the cow-path I remarked as calmly as possible:

"Pleasant weather, sir."

The stranger replied in a voice that rumbled from his chest:

"It's all right for them that can afford to toddle around with them silly little sticks you've got in that bag. I'm lookin' for a [5