The Master of Lindsay School 
     
    
   
   
    
     the hand that hung down by the side of 
     
     the wagon was unusually long and slen- 
     
     der. His face was richly, though some— 
     
     what heavily featured, olive tinted, save 
     
     for the cheeks, which had a dusky crim- 
     
     son bloom. His mouth was as red and be- 
     
     guiling as a girl’s, and his eyes were large, 
     
     bold and black. All in all, he was a strik- 
     
     ingly handsome fellow; but the expres- 
     
     sion of his face was sullen, and he some- 
     
     how gave Eric the impression of a sinu- 
     
     ous, feline creature basking in lazy grace, 
     
     but ever ready for an unexpected spring. 
     
    

    
     The other occupant of the wagon was a 
     
     man between sixty-five and seventy, with 
     
     iron-gray hair, a long, full, gray beard, a 
     
     harsh-featured face, and deep-set hazel 
     
     eyes under bushy, bristling brows. He 
     
     was evidently tall, with a spare, ungame 
     
     figure, and stooping shoulders. His 
     
     mouth was close-lipped and relentless, 
     
     and did not look as if it had ever smiled. 
     
     Indeed, the idea of smiling could not be 
     
     connected with this man—it was utterly 
     
    
   
   
    
     39