Instantly, she forgot Simeon Harp, and did not even see him as he
hobbled away, pulling on to his head the moth-eaten cap of squirrel fur
which he always wore, summer and winter, as if for a sign of his trade.
II
NICK
Nick Hilliard snatched off his sombrero as he came swinging along the
oleander path. He was tall, fully six feet in height, and looked taller
than he was, being lean and hard, with long straight legs which could
carry him very fast over great stretches of country. Also he had a way of
holding his head high, a way which a man gets if he is in the habit of
gazing toward far horizons. He had a well-cut nose, a good chin, and a
mouth that meant strength of purpose, though some of his friends laughed
at him for a "womanish" curve of the upper lip. Luckily Nick did not mind
being laughed at by his friends. His face was almost as brown as his hair,
for the sun had darkened the one and bleached the other; but the hair was
nice hair, with a glow of auburn in it, which contrasted not
uninterestingly with his black, straight brows. It was, however, the
brilliance of the brook-brown eyes which made Nick a handsome man, and not
merely a "good-looking fellow." It was because of his eyes that women
turned in the street for another glance when he went into Bakersfield or
Fresno; but Nick never knew that they turned.
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