United States or Trinidad and Tobago ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He watched the men of his troop while with quip and song they made comfortable camp; he spoke a few brief words of instruction to the grave-faced first sergeant, and then strolled slowly up the valley, his own affairs soon completely forgotten in the beauty of near-by hills beneath the golden glory of the morning sun.
Thereupon, the taciturn, grave-faced La Robe Noire, tapping his forehead significantly, would look with meaning towards Little Fellow; and I would slip out some distance behind to see that Hamilton did himself no harm while the paroxysm lasted. So absorbed was he in his own gloom, for days he would not utter a syllable.
To them the grave-faced, taciturn man, who cared not to listen to their songs or to watch their wild dances on the moonlit beach as had been the custom of those white men who had dwelt on the island before him was but as one afflicted with some mental disease, and therefore to be both pitied and feared.
The doctor, a grave-faced young man, put his fingers to the furrowed, blue-corded wrist. "You must be careful," he said. "You must take no liberties." The thin tide of life seemed to thrill rather than to throb under his finger. The old man chuckled. "I've got brother Jarge's girl to look after me now. She'll see I don't break barracks or do what I hadn't ought to.
There on the narrow ledge or platform built under the sharp tops of the upright logs, were grouped the silent, grave-faced guard, a dozen men intently listening. Thither presently came running others of the officers or men, suddenly awakened by sense of something unusual going on.
Swords in hand, then, came the grave-faced men who had borne her hopes for Krovitch in their hearts. Courageous as any knights of old, their faces betrayed what an awful price they considered this flight to be.
On the eleventh day I rose, and the weather being mild and spring-like, I was permitted by my grave-faced doctor to take the air a little on the terrace that overlooks the sea. I found no garments but some suits of motley, and so, in despite of my repugnance now to reassume that garb, I had no choice but to array myself in one of these.
The local morning traffic was beginning to pick up; but we mingled with it, at 8,000 feet and more, to clear the mountains comfortably. Elza again cooked and, with Argo joining us, we had breakfast. Argo's good nature continued, as we successfully approached the end of our flight. But still he volunteered nothing to us. We asked him no questions. Elza was grave-faced, solemn.
A second later Steve reached his side, but the horror had not faded from his own eyes after he had picked that prostrate figure up and carried it into the clay-clinked shack. His memory played him an odd trick during that moment. A vivid picture came back to him of the grave-faced boy he had been, struggling to steady Old Tom's helpless feet up that same rise.
"Ah, my dear monsieur!" he exclaimed in French, knowing that I spoke Spanish only with the greatest difficulty. "I am very glad you have called. Those brass-headed pins which upholsterers often use, and which you have submitted to me, are most interesting from a toxicological point of view." "What?" I gasped. "Were they poisoned?" "Undoubtedly," replied the grave-faced old expert.
Word Of The Day