"I told you it wasn't the place for an old man." "Old man," snarled the figure in the straw.

"I ain't so old but I can daown you, sir--yessir, condemmit, yessir!" "I'm your man," replied Jennings, smiling up at him.
The man rolled down the side of the stack, disappearing in a cloud of dust and chaff.

When he came to light, Milton saw a tall, gaunt old man of sixty years of age, or older.

Nothing could be seen but a dusty expanse of face, ragged beard, and twinkling, sharp little eyes.

His color was lost, his eyes half hid.