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Updated: May 20, 2025
She covered her eyes with her hand. Lapierre answered, dryly. "Yes. The North is that way. It has always been so and it always will " Chloe's hand dropped from her eyes and, she faced him in a sudden burst of passion. Her sensitive lips quivered and her eyes narrowed to the rapier-blade eyes that were the eyes of Tiger Elliston.
And through MacNair's mind flashed the memory of the rapier-blade eyes that stared from out the dull gold frame of the portrait that hung upon the wall of the little cottage -eyes that were the eyes of the girl before him. "Well," he asked with evident impatience, "are you afraid of these Indians?" The flashing eyes of the girl told him that the shot had struck home. "No!" she cried.
Her most treasured possession was a blackened and scarred oil portrait of the old sea-trader and adventurer, which always lay swathed in many wrappings in the bottom of her favourite trunk. In her heart she loved and admired this grandfather, with a love and admiration that bordered upon idolatry. She loved the lean, hard features, and the cold, rapier-blade eyes.
The writhing green shadow-shapes lost form, dimmed, and resolved themselves into an image a lean, lined face with rapier-blade eyes gazed upon her from the blackness the face of Tiger Elliston! Instantly, the full force and determination of her surged through the girl's veins anew. The drooping lips stiffened. Her heart sang with the joy of conquest.
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