Excerpt from Nan of Music Mountain

The warm sun streaming through the windows of the private ofice of the division superintendent at Sleepy Cat, a railroad town lying almost within gunshot of the great continental divide, would easily have accounted for the cordial per spiration that illumined Lefever's forehead. Not that a perspiration is easily achieved in the high country, it isn't. None, indeed, but a physical giant, which Lefever was, could maintain so con stant and visible a nervous moisture in the face of the extraordinary atmospheric evaporation of the mountain plateaus. And to de Spain, on this occasion, even the glistening beads on his com panion's forehead were annoying, for he knew that he himself was properly responsible for their presence.

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