LEG PULL
did not learn so many of these extra-curriculum things as he should have learned for the very reason that every one treated him with so much respect. They were rather in awe of him, were inclined to hero-worship him; for he was big and brawny, and had a face with lines in it, a reserved manner, a straight, firm mouth that was kept closed most of the time. He had more than that—an air of mystery that appealed to the romance which lies thick under the slangy exterior of even the most pseudo-cynical young senior. He was a man of mark from the first.
"That big, matured-looking Westerner is an Englishman by birth, I understand; a younger son; ran away from home when a kid; has drifted about all over the world."
"That's the reason he's not so woolly as he looks. Talks well—when he does talk; has quite literary tastes—his room is chockfull of books, complete editions, fine bindings, and all that sort of thing."
"They say he used to be a Government scout out on the plains," was another comment.
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