Even at that distance, so clear was the light, Calumet caught a vague impression of his features--his nose, especially, which was big, hawk-like.
Calumet yielded to a sudden wonder over the rider's appearance on the hill.

He had not seen him; had not heard him before.

Still, that was not strange, for he had become so absorbed in his thoughts while on the hill that he had paid very little attention to his surroundings except to associate them with his past.
The man, evidently, was a cowpuncher in the employ of his father; had probably seen him from the level of the valley and had ridden to the crest of the hill out of curiosity.
Another impulse moved Calumet.

He decided to have a talk with the man in order to learn, if possible, something of the life his father had led during his absence.

He kicked his pony in the ribs and rode toward the man, the animal traveling at a slow chop-trot.
For a moment the man watched him, still motionless.