They had again entered a town at nightfall, and lodged with another friend of Flynn's in rooms which from vague sounds appeared to be over a gambling saloon.
Clarence woke late in the morning, and, descending into the street to mount for the day's journey, was startled to find that Flynn was not on the other horse, but that a well-dressed and handsome stranger had taken his place.

But a laugh, and the familiar command, "Jump up, boy," made him look again.

It WAS Flynn, but completely shaven of beard and mustache, closely clipped of hair, and in a fastidiously cut suit of black! "Then you didn't know me ?" said Flynn.
"Not till you spoke," replied Clarence.
"So much the better," said his friend sententiously, as he put spurs to his horse.

But as they cantered through the street, Clarence, who had already become accustomed to the stranger's hirsute adornment, felt a little more awe of him.

The profile of the mouth and chin now exposed to his sidelong glance was hard and stern, and slightly saturnine.