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It had come home to him that this narrow-flanked young fellow with the close-gripped jaw and the cool, steady eyes was entirely unmoved by his threats. "Quite through effervescing?" asked Clay contemptuously. The gang leader made no answer. He chose to nurse his venom silently. "Where's Kitty Mason?" Still no answer. "I asked you what you've done with Kitty Mason?" "What's that to you?"
The public would raise such a howl that the Administration would have to throw your friend and the Guttenchilds overboard to save itself. I know that and Macdonald knows it. So he stands to lose either way." He knew, too, there was no use in arguing with this young athlete. That close-gripped jaw and salient chin did not belong to a slacker. Gordon would stick and see the thing out.
Bennett did not hear the doctor's response and his suggestion as to the advisability of taking Ferriss to his own house in the country while he could be moved. For the moment he was not listening. An idea had abruptly presented itself to him. He was to go to the country. But where? A grim smile began to relax the close-gripped lips and the hard set of the protruding jaw.
Then the great brutal jaw grew more salient than ever, the teeth set and clenched behind the close-gripped lips, the cast in the small twinkling eyes grew suddenly more pronounced. One huge fist raised, and the arm slowly extended forward like the resistless moving of a piston.
Gradually he bulked larger in the public eye, became an anchor of safety to whom the people turned after the war had worn itself out and scattered bands of banditti infested the chaparral to prey upon the settlers. This lean, brown-faced man walked the way of the strong. Men recognized the dynamic force of his close-gripped jaw, the power of his quick, steady eye, the patience of his courage.
Strength lay in that close-gripped salient jaw, in every line of the reckless sardonic face, in the set of the lean muscular shoulders. She had nerved herself to meet resistance, and instead he was yielding with complacent good nature. "Get out!" she commanded. He stepped from the rig and offered her the reins.
"Tell me all about this affair of the West kidnapping," the ranger suggested. The other man told the story while O'Connor listened, alert to catch every point of the narrative. The face of the lieutenant of rangers was a boyish one eager, genial, and frank; yet, none the less, strength lay in the close-gripped jaw and in the steady, watchful eye.
But the close-gripped jaw, the cool serenity of the gray eyes that looked without excitement upon whatever they saw, the perfect poise of his carriage all contributed to a personality plainly that of a leader of men. It was scarce a minute later that the whistle came from the hilltop. The mountaineer instantly swung to the saddle and set his pony to a canter up the draw.
"Gold. How far would you go to earn that much?" "A long way, señor." Harrison caught him by the wrist with a grip that drove the blood back. "Listen, Cabenza. Would you go as far as the camp of Garcia Farrugia?" The close-gripped, salient jaw was thrust forward. Black eyes blazed from a set, snarling face.
His face; the great, brutal jaw, with its aggressive, bullying, forward thrust; the close-gripped lips, the contracted forehead, the small eyes, marred with the sharply defined cast, appeared never so harsh, never so massive, never so significant of the resistless, crude force of the man, his energy, his overpowering determination.
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