The light of the kerosene lamp shone fairly in his face as he sat in the saddle, showing a pair of cold, steady eyes and thin, straight lips that were wreathed in a smile.
"I thought I'd ride over for a smoke an' a talk before goin' down the crick to where the outfit's workin'," he said to the young man.

And now his eyes swept Ferguson's lank figure with a searching glance.
"But I didn't know you was havin' company," he added.

The second glance that he threw toward Ferguson was not friendly.
Ferguson's lips curled slightly under it.

Each man had been measured by the other, and neither had found in the other anything to admire.
Ferguson's thoughts went rapidly back to Dry Bottom.

He saw a man in the street, putting five bullets through a can that he had thrown into the air.