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Updated: June 20, 2025
Her greater fears had been of the man, Sikkem, who had been in her waking thoughts. "You were following my tracks?" she demanded uncertainly. Nan's eyes grew grave. "I certainly was. Though I didn't guess they were yours. Say, you must have crossed the tracks I was following," she added thoughtfully. "Did you see anybody? Four fellers? Mighty tough-looking citizens, an' strangers?"
I can see her now kneeling down by my bed when I was a lad. Father came in one night and kicked her while she was kneeling there by me. But I never forgot that prayer of yours that morning. You prayed for me just as mother used to, and you didn't seem to take 'count of the fact that I was ragged and tough-looking and more than half drunk when I rang your door bell. Oh, what a life I've lived!
At once I noted that he was a very remarkable person, broad and tall and spare of frame, with long, tough-looking arms and a fierce face which reminded me of that of the late King Dingaan. Also he had a great hole in his head above the temple where the skull had been driven in by some blow, and keen, royal-looking eyes. He looked up and seeing me, cried out, "What!
To their right and left, up and down the long vista of train-sheds, letting themselves down from overarching bridges, or pushing boldly past the feeble railway police, hundreds of tough-looking citizens were slowly closing in.
The place was full of tough-looking subs, and a lot of frouzy, dowdy girls, and what they lacked in good looks they made up in paint and brass, such brazen faces I never saw. Half way down the hall was a big, fat woman, with her hair blondined, who seemed to have charge of the place, and was giving orders to the man behind the bar.
Our stamps were good only at Vehnemoor Camp, having the name "Vehnemoor" stamped on them. I suppose we were two tough-looking characters. The people seemed to think so, for they looked at us with startled faces, and a little girl who was crossing the platform ran back in alarm to her mother when she saw us coming.
I was impatiently awaiting the advent of the slack season, and when it came at last I applied myself exclusively to the study of subjects required for admission to college. To accelerate matters I engaged, as my instructor in mathematics and geography, the son of our tough-looking presser. I paid him twenty-five cents an hour.
This bunch of Confederates were all young men, armed with double-barreled shot-guns, and a decidedly tough-looking outfit. They finally left my post, escorted by Lieut. Armstrong and his guard, and I understood in a general way that he passed them on to someone higher in authority at some other point in our vicinity, possibly at Jackson.
Gaunt and sunburned were his short-coupled California chargers, as were their tough-looking riders; fetlocks and beards were uniformly ragged; shoes of leather and shoes of iron showed equal wear.
"Was he like any one you ever saw?" "Why, no. Stay, let's see. Do you know, he was something like you in the face." "Thank you!" said Charles, laughing. "Wait till I get a chance of paying you a compliment, old fellow. A powerful fellow eh?" "Why, yes, a tough-looking subject," said Tom. "I shouldn't have much chance with him, I suppose?" "No; he'd be too powerful for you, Charley."
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