He would see that any hired men would learn a thing or two, so that they would not sign up with Chris Dorn.

In a fury the old man had driven Jansen out into the road.
Sober and moody, Kurt put the horses away, and, washing the dust grime from sunburnt face and hands, he went to his little attic room, where he changed his damp and sweaty clothes.

Then he went down to supper with mind made up to be lenient and silent with his old and sorely tried father.
Chris Dorn sat in the light of the kitchen lamps.

He was a huge man with a great, round, bullet-shaped head and a shock of gray hair and bristling, grizzled beard.

His face was broad, heavy, and seemed sodden with dark, brooding thought.