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Updated: June 22, 2025
They raised their hats to each other, and, followed by the strange and brutal-looking regiment, they advanced towards the centre of the stage. I then saw the strangest of sights. In the middle of the stage were my forty-two trunks.
Better abuse me." Dick roared with laughter. "I say, youngster, you're a smart 'un. I see you're friendly by your hint. I'll abuse you to her, never fear. You must take a drink on that. Say, old woman, where's the whisky?" "There's not a drop in the house, Dick." "I forgot. Curse the luck!" Just then a man entered the house only less brutal-looking than Dick himself. He held a letter in his hand.
It will be a great start for you. As to the pistol, you'll find it waiting for you, or I'm mistaken. If you report yourselves on Monday, it will be time enough. You'll get a great welcome when you return." "Any reward this time?" asked Cormac, a thick-set, dark-faced, brutal-looking young man, whose ferocity had earned him the nickname of "Tiger." "Never mind the reward.
One of them crept up the steps and laid his neck upon the edge of gold, while the other, uttering no word, threw himself on his face at the foot of them, waiting his turn. Then a door opened and there appeared a great and brutal-looking fellow, naked except for a loin cloth, who bore in his hand a huge weapon, half knife and half axe.
"Will he soon come up?" He was answered in the affirmative. So James lingered until the man he inquired for came up. He was a brutal-looking man, as common in appearance as any of the sailors whom he commanded, and the boy was amazed at his bearing. Surely that man was not his ideal of a ship-captain.
This man, a brutal-looking fellow, extorted from her a huge bribe, and then promised to release the two teachers from the pole, and to put them into another building where she might send them food daily, and pillows and mats to sleep on. She obtained an order for an interview with her husband, whose looks were so wretched and ghastly that she lost no time in fulfilling these exorbitant demands.
While Burleigh was speaking the caveman had reached the doorway and reared up just beside it in the shadow. Clutching a brutal-looking club in his hairy, rough hand, he stood listening to the story of the murder that had left Victor fatherless. The face of the listener made clear the need for guardian angels. One leap, one blow, and Victor Burleigh would carry only one more scar to his grave.
We had not been twenty minutes in the settlement before the yurt that we occupied was completely crowded with stolid, brutal-looking men, dressed in spotted deerskin clothes, wearing strings of coloured beads in their ears, and carrying heavy knives two feet in length in sheaths tied around their legs.
He was a rough, vulgar, brutal-looking man, but his eye was brilliant, his complexion was dark, and his face was covered with whiskers. "Good heavens!" thought I, "who will ever imagine or credit that we have been associates?" The man stared at me, bit his lip, and smiled with contempt, but made no further remark.
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