Presently he said: "I'll cable the money over and
send the letter on next mail. Strange that I didn't think of cabling
yesterday. However, it's all the same."
So saying, he came down the moor into the town and sent his cable, then
went to his hotel and had dinner. After dinner he again went for a walk.
He was thinking hard, and that did not render him less interesting. He
was tall and muscular, yet not heavy, with a lean dark face, keen, steady
eyes, and dignified walk. He wore a black soft felt hat and a red silk
sash which just peeped from beneath his waistcoat--in all, striking, yet
not bizarre, and notably of gentlemanlike manner. What arrested attention
most, however, was his voice. People who heard it invariably turned to
look or listened from sheer pleasure. It was of such penetrating clearness
that if he spoke in an ordinary tone it carried far. Among the Indians of
the Hudson Bay company, where he had been for six years or more, he had
been known as Man of the Gold Throat, and that long before he was called
by the negroes on his father's plantation in the southern states Little
Marse Gabriel, because Gabriel's horn, they thought, must be like his
voice--"only mo' so, an dat chile was bawn to ride on de golden mule."
You would not, from his manner or voice or dress have called him an
American.
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