Bull took this dubious bit of praise as an invitation and came slowly
closer to the other. He had the child's way of eyeing a stranger with
embarrassing steadiness at a first meeting and thereafter paying
little attention to the face. He wrote the features down in his memory
and kept them at hand for reference, as it were. As he drew nearer,
the old man grew distinctly serious, and when Bull was directly before
him he gazed up into the face of Bull with distinct amazement. At a
distance the big man did not seem so large because of the grace of his
proportions; when he was directly confronted, however, he seemed a
veritable giant.
"By the Lord, you _are_ big. And who might you be, stranger?"
"My name's Charlie Hunter; though mostly folks call me just plain
Bull."
"That's queer," chuckled the other. "Well, glad to know you. I'm
Bridewell."
They shook hands, and Bridewell noted the gentleness of the giant. As
a rule strong men are tempted to show their strength when they shake
hands; Bridewell appreciated the modesty of Charlie Hunter.
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