“Have you seen him?” continued March eagerly.
“I have, many a time.”
“What is he like?”
“He’s like me,” replied Dick with another smile, the softness of which would have driven March to an immeasurable distance from the truth, had he ever been near it.
“Like you! Oh, I suppose you mean he’s something about your size. Well, I don’t wonder at that, for you’re an uncommonly big fellow, Dick; but I fancy his appearance is very different.”
“Well, no. He’s got light hair and blue eyes, like me.”
This was a poser to March. It was so totally subversive of all his preconceived ideas, that it reduced him for some moments to silence.
“Isn’t he hairy all over, like a fox, and very ugly?” inquired March, recovering from his surprise.
This was a poser, in turn, to the Wild Man. To be called upon suddenly to pronounce an opinion on his own looks was embarrassing, to say the least of it.
“He’s not exactly hairy all over,” said Dick after a moment’s thought, “though it can’t be denied he’s got plenty of hair on his head and chin—like me. As for his looks, lad, it ain’t easy to say whether he’s ugly or pritty, for men don’t agree on sich pints, d’ye see?”