There was something oddly repellant about the man—something to be felt, in that first moment, rather than defined. He was big beyond the ordinary, but with a flabby, unwholesome bulk that reminded one of a jellyfish. His hands were soft and pudgy; his clothes hung about him like shapeless bags.
All this and more they swiftly noted without hitting on the feature which roused that curious repulsion. Then suddenly they saw. The creature had no hair! His shiny scalp was bare of any vestige; he had no eyebrows or eyelashes. The flesh which hung about his pendulous jowls in pasty, yellow rolls was as innocent of a beard as any baby’s. Moreover, his eyes—gray they were and very small and pale—stared unwinking, the hairless lids so narrowed that an alien roll of flesh showed there, making those lids look double.
“What’s the matter,” repeated the fat man, as the four stared at him without speaking. “Ain’t you got voices?”
“There’s nothing the matter,” returned Stafford, recovering his self-possession. “We came to find out if you’d be willing to sell your trees.”
The fishy eyes widened abruptly. “Trees?” shrilled the man. “Trees?” For an instant his gaze flashed upward. “What do you mean? Who are you?”
“We’re boy scouts from Wharton,” Stafford explained quietly, keeping his eyes fixed intently on the pasty, pudgy face. “We’ve been ordered by the Government to make a census of all the black walnut trees whose owners are willing to sell. The wood is needed for gun stocks and airplane propellers. You’ll get a good price, and be doing a service to your country at the same time.”
“Oh, walnut trees! That’s all you want? Gunstocks? You’re sure? Well, I won’t sell. The—nuts are too valuable.”
“But—”
“Never mind any buts,” cut in the fat man harshly. “I’ve told you, and that’s enough. I’ll remind you, also, that this is private property and you’re trespassing. The sooner you get off it the better I’ll be pleased.”
Without further comment he closed the door with a slam, leaving the boys to stare at one another with wry faces.