Hurriedly he descended the rocks once more to turn toward town and toward Mother Howard's boarding house.

He wanted to tell her what he had seen and to obtain her help and counsel.
Quickly he made the return trip, crossing the little bridge over the turbulent Clear Creek and heading toward the boarding house.

Half a block away he halted, as a woman on the veranda of the big, squarely built "hotel" pointed him out, and the great figure of a man shot through the gate, shouting, and hurried toward him.
A tremendous creature he was, with red face and black hair which seemed to scramble in all directions at once, and with a mustache which appeared to scamper in even more directions than his hair.

Fairchild was a large man; suddenly he felt himself puny and inconsequential as the mastodonic thing before him swooped forward, spread wide the big arms and then caught him tight in them, causing the breath to puff over his lips like the exhaust of a bellows.
A release, then Fairchild felt himself lifted and set down again.

He pulled hard at his breath.
"What's the matter with you ?" he exclaimed testily.