As he laughed his eyes rested upon Nat, and, apparently for the first time, he became aware of the boy’s presence. The eyes were light colored, cold and keen, as the lad saw when they became steadfastly fixed upon him; and that they were also cruel, he was firmly convinced.
“Young gentleman,” said the man, growing sober enough, “good-evening.”
“Good-evening, sir,” returned Nat, politely.
There was a long row of brass buttons down the front of the man’s coat; he took the one at the top between a thumb and forefinger in a speculative sort of way; then the touch dropped to the second button and so on down the row until he reached the bottom. And all the time the cold, light-colored eyes were fixed upon the lad from the north country; and they were studying and weighing and estimating him steadily. Finally, so it seemed, the stranger made up his mind. He removed his legs from the chair arm and stretched them out before him; the waning sunlight played upon the big brass buckles upon his shoes as he turned his feet first one way and then the other, inspecting them thoughtfully.
“It will be a fine evening,” ventured he, at last.
“So I’ve thought myself,” returned Nat.
“And following a fine day,” said the man.
Nat nodded. He was disappointed. Evidently the stranger was not nearly so interesting as he looked.
“Travel far?” asked the man, after another pause, but not so long as the first.
“Not a great way.”