rarily overlaid with the colour; it
permeated him.

The old man knew the meaning of this. The traveller with the cart was a
reddleman--a person whose vocation it was to supply farmers with redding
for their sheep. He was one of a class rapidly becoming extinct in
Wessex, filling at present in the rural world the place which, during
the last century, the dodo occupied in the world of animals. He is a
curious, interesting, and nearly perished link between obsolete forms of
life and those which generally prevail.

The decayed officer, by degrees, came up alongside his fellow-wayfarer,
and wished him good evening. The reddleman turned his head, and replied
in sad and occupied tones. He was young, and his face, if not exactly
handsome, approached so near to handsome that nobody would have
contradicted an assertion that it really was so in its natural colour.
His eye, which glared so strangely through his stain, was in itself
attractive--keen as that of a bird of prey, and blue as autumn mist. He
had neither whisker nor moustache, which allowed the soft curves of the
lower part of his face to be apparent. His lips were thin, and though,
as it seemed, compressed by thought, there was a pleasant twitch at
their corners now and then. He was clothed throughout in a tight-fitting
suit of corduroy, excellent in quality, not much worn, and well-chosen
for its purpose, but deprived of its original colour by his trade. It
showed to advantage the good shape of his figure. A certain well-to-do
air about the man suggested that he was not poor for his degree.
The natural query of an observer would have been, Why should such
a promising being as this have hidden his prepossessing exterior by
adopting that singular occupation?

After replying to the old man's greeting he showed no inclination to
continue in talk, although they still walked side by side, for the elder
traveller seemed to desire company. There were no sounds but that of
the booming wind upon the stretch of tawny herbage around them, the
crackling wheels, the tread of the men, and the footsteps of the two
shaggy ponies which drew the van. They were small, hardy animals, of a
breed between Galloway and Exmoor, and were known as "heath-croppers"
here.

Now, as they thus pursued their way, the reddleman occasionally left his
companion's side, and, stepping behind the van, looked into its interior
through a small window. The look was always anxious. He would then
return to th