In the office shanty one evening about a week later, Radway and his scaler happened to be talking over the situation.

The scaler, whose name was Dyer, slouched back in the shadow, watching his great honest superior as a crafty, dainty cat might watch the blunderings of a St.
Bernard.

When he spoke, it was with a mockery so subtle as quite to escape the perceptions of the lumberman.

Dyer had a precise little black mustache whose ends he was constantly twisting into points, black eyebrows, and long effeminate black lashes.

You would have expected his dress in the city to be just a trifle flashy, not enough so to be loud, but sinning as to the trifles of good taste.