It was a long-drawn exclamation of anticipatory delight, and into the
eyes of the military-looking traveler there appeared a soft and gentle
light, as though, in fancy, he could look off across sunlit meadows to
a stream sparkling beneath a blue sky, white-studded with fleecy
clouds, where there was a soft carpet of green grass, shaded by a noble
oak under which he might lounge and listen to the wind rustling the
newly-born leaves.

"Ah-a-a-a!"

"Beg pardon, sir, but I--"

"What?"

The military-appearing man sat up with a jerk into sudden stiffness,
while the soft light died out of his eyes.

"New York papers?"

"Don't want the New York papers--any of them!"

The man, after a swift glance from his green-covered book, again let
his eyes seek its pages. The ghost of a smile flickered around his
lips.

"Chicago, then. The latest--"

". . . your hook being fastened through the skin of his leg, toward the
upper part of it; and lastly I will give you--"