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Updated: June 5, 2025
This face, which was unknown to him, was that of a desperate-looking ruffian, who was dressed in a soiled and tattered uniform, the coat of which was red; the man's hand tightly clasped a discharged pistol; he had been shot in the breast, for where his coat had fallen open might be seen a dark red stain about a ragged hole in his soiled gray shirt; the bullet had been fired at short range, too, for there were powder marks all about his breast.
The band struck up a martial air, and the procession moved on towards Twenty-eighth Street. Just before they reached it, another shot rang clear and sharp above the music. No one was seen to fall, and the march continued. At the corner of Twenty-seventh Street, a group of desperate-looking fellows were assembled on a wooden shed that projected over the sidewalk.
About noon one sunny day they remarked the approach, somewhat ostentatious, of a desperate-looking character. Undoubtedly a German spy! What can he be up to! The boys approached him and he fled, leaving behind him the damning evidence a tin suggestive of sardines and labeled "Poison!"
Luke obeyed, and the conversation was a long one, and seemed interesting to both. In the midst of it Linton Tomkins came in. "Have you come to see the prisoner, also, Linton?" asked Florence. "Yes, Florence. What a desperate-looking ruffian he is! I don't dare to come too near. How did you break into the bank, Luke?" First Luke smiled, then he became grave.
One, a desperate-looking outlaw, Jonathan did not know. The blond-bearded giant in the center was Legget. Steel-blue, inhuman eyes, with the expression of a free but hunted animal; a set, mastiff-like jaw, brutal and coarse, individualized him. The last man was the haggard-faced Brandt. "I tell ye, Brandt, I ain't agoin' against this Injun," Legget was saying positively.
Through the surging crowd Tom and Roy could see, sitting on a bench at the station, a man in convict garb, with his hands manacled together and a guard on either side of him. In the broad light of day he was a desperate-looking creature, as he sat with his ugly head hanging low, apparently oblivious to all about him. "I don't understand," said Roy. "Didn't you know about him?"
The valet backed before the pale and desperate-looking young man, with terrified and wondering glances, and disappeared into his master's apartment, whence the Major put out his head as soon as he had his wig on. "What? Examination over? Senior Wrangler, Double First Class, hey?" said the old gentleman. "I'll come directly," and the head disappeared.
She got very angry at Smilk's counsel and said such spiteful things to him and about his client that the jury began to feel sorry for both of them. Two detectives and three policemen in uniform testified that Smilk was the picture of health and a desperate-looking character.
Then on the run he started back for the telegraph office. As he neared the little building Jack saw a figure within. Thinking the "Star" reporter had returned with further copy, he quickened his steps. At the doorway he halted in consternation. Instead of the reporter were two desperate-looking characters, and on the table beside them a half-emptied bottle and a large revolver.
"These kids have queered us here. We'll be moving." As he started away he gave Charley such a savage look that it almost frightened Charley. It did worry and alarm him, for he could not help asking himself what he should do if he had to deal sternly with such a man. Even with Lew at his side, he felt fearful. Alone in the forest with such desperate-looking men, he knew that he would be helpless.
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