Bob estimated these must weigh at least three pounds
apiece. The man wore a little pointed beard and eyeglasses. About him
Bob recognized a puzzling familiarity. He could not place it, however,
but finally decided he must have carried over a recollection from a
tailor's fashion plate of the Correct Thing for Camping.
The other man was taller, heavier, but not near so impressive. His form
was awkward, his face homely, his ears stuck out like wings, and his
expression was that of the always-appreciated buffoon.
Bob was about to pass on, when he noticed that he was not the only
spectator of all this ease of manner. A dozen of the campers had
gathered, and were staring across the ropes with quite frank and
unabashed curiosity. More were coming from all directions. In a short
time a crowd of several hundred had collected, and stood, evidently in
expectation. Then, and only then, did the small man with the pointed
beard seem to become aware of the presence of any one besides his
companion. He leaned across to exchange a few words with the latter,
after which he laid aside his hat, arose and advanced to the rope
barrier on which he rested the tips of his fingers.
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