He was a big, rather rough-looking fellow, but as he lurched out into the open from a wood Betty saw that she could reach him if she passed through a narrow gate a few yards away and walked quickly.
He was slouching along, his head drooping and his broad shoulders expressing the definite antipodes of good spirits.

Betty studied his back as she strode after him, her conclusion being that he was perhaps not a good-humoured man to approach at any time, and that this was by ill luck one of his less fortunate hours.
"Wait a moment, if you please," her clear, mellow voice flung out after him when she was within hearing distance.

"I want to speak to you, keeper." He turned with an air of far from pleased surprise.

The afternoon sun was in his eyes and made him scowl.

For a moment he did not see distinctly who was approaching him, but he had at once recognised a certain cool tone of command in the voice whose suddenness had roused him from a black mood.