Presley was a confirmed dreamer, irresolute, inactive, with a strong tendency to melancholy; the young farmer was a man of affairs, decisive, combative, whose only reflection upon his interior economy was a morbid concern in the vagaries of his stomach.

Yet the two never met without a mutual pleasure, taking a genuine interest in each other's affairs, and often putting themselves to great inconvenience to be of trifling service to help one another.
As a last characteristic, Annixter pretended to be a woman-hater, for no other reason than that he was a very bull-calf of awkwardness in feminine surroundings.

Feemales! Rot! There was a fine way for a man to waste his time and his good money, lally gagging with a lot of feemales.
No, thank you; none of it in HIS, if you please.

Once only he had an affair--a timid, little creature in a glove-cleaning establishment in Sacramento, whom he had picked up, Heaven knew how.

After his return to his ranch, a correspondence had been maintained between the two, Annixter taking the precaution to typewrite his letters, and never affixing his signature, in an excess of prudence.