The Avenger 8 - The Glass Mountain - Plot & Excerpts
That was partly because of his name, and partly because he had that kind of eyes. They stuck out a little, were far apart in his rather narrow face, didn’t ever seem to blink, and had a glazed look. Joe Bass dressed in overalls that were ninety percent patches faded to all different shades of blue, had skin like leather from years of exposure to sun and wind, and left an almost unbroken trail of tobacco juice behind him wherever he went. His friends said he could live on tobacco, and sometimes it seemed that he must live on nothing else. For sometimes he was completely broke, instead of having two or three dollars in his pocket with which to buy food. He was that way, now: completely broke. Four years ago he had nearly a hundred thousand dollars, but that was gone now, so he was out hunting more. He was going to get it out of the ground. Old Joe Bass was one of the few genuine old-time prospectors left. He could go out with a pack on his back, not even with a burro, and usually come up with something that would keep him in chawin’ tobacco for a few more years.
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