286 The Theory and the Hound
He looked up from a careful inspection of his rifle lock and saw a broad man filling his doorway. A broad, noiseless, slow-moving man, sunburned almost to the brown of Van- dyke. A man of forty-five, neatly clothed in homespun, with scanty light hair, a close- clipped brown-and-gray beard, and pale-blue eyes expressing mildness and simplicity.
"You are Mr. Bridger, the consul," said the broad man. "They directed me here. Can you tell me what those big bunches of things like gourds are in those trees that look like feather dusters along the edge of the water ?"
"Take that chair," said the consul, re- oiling his cleaning rag. "No, the other one that bamboo thing won't hold you. Why, they're cocoanuts green cocoanuts. The shell of 'em is always a light green before they're ripe."
"Much obliged," said the other man, sitting down carefully. "I didn't quite like to tell the folks at home they were olives unless I was sure about it. My name is Plunkett. I'm sheriff of Chatham County, Kentucky. I've got extradition papers in my pocket authorizing the arrest of a man on this is-
�� �
