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Updated: September 11, 2024
Anketam had a great deal of respect for the little, wide-shouldered, barrel-chested man who stood there looking at the scars on the backs of his hands. Jacovik turned his hands over and looked at the calloused palms. "How do we know? Maybe the Council of Chiefs has given up. Maybe they've authorized the President to surrender. After all, we're not fighters; we're farmers.
Then it's me for the hay," he announced. Ruth watched him go, lean, sinewy, and wide-shouldered. His stride was once more light and strong, for with the passing hours power had flowed back into his veins. She sighed. He was a man that would go the limit for his friends. He was gentle, kindly, full of genial and cheerful courage.
His whole body, wide-shouldered and deep-chested, as befitted a man of the sea, looked savage and fierce, but full of an intensity of manhood that was striking, and his gestures and movements, the glance of his penetrating eyes, the turn of his well-poised head, revealed a primitive and passionate nature, a nature with something of the dagger in it, steely, sharp, and deadly.
He was lean, gaunt, worn, a huge machine of muscle and bone, beautiful only in head and mane, a weight-carrier, a horse strong and fierce like the desert that had bred him. The rider fitted the horse as he fitted the saddle. He was a young man of exceedingly powerful physique, wide-shouldered, long-armed, big-legged.
He was of no great stature, but broad-breasted and very wide-shouldered, with many signs of strength. He had blue eyes, and dark curled locks falling beneath a red cap such as sailors wear, and over a purple cloak, fastened with a brooch of gold. There were threads of silver in his curls, and his beard was flecked with white.
He strode down the room through the light powder-haze and paused before Stratton, tall, wide-shouldered, and lean of flank, with a thin, hawklike face and penetrating gray eyes. "Well?" he questioned curtly. "What's it all about? That scoundrel been selling licker again?" "Not to us," snapped Buck. "Are you Hardenberg?" he added, with sudden inspiration. "I am."
"Esta casa e a suas ordenes this house is at your disposal." McKay, with a bow, climbed the ladder, followed by Knowlton. José, with a swaggering stare at the wide-shouldered man, who stared straight back without facial change, also went up. Tim came fourth and last, for Pedro stopped beside his countryman, who evidently was Lourenço.
Whenever he descried a peculiarly desperate ruffian the boss called him aside for private instruction and gave minute description of a wide-shouldered, erect, youth in white hat and half-boots. Gradually he set his trap with the men Voorhees had raked from the slums, and when it was done smiled to himself.
He did not notice a man coming up behind him, who now stood scrutinizing him admiringly from top to toe. "Hullo, my noble American sailorman!" The voice at his back brought Barry around with a jerk. He glimpsed a figure which might have stepped direct from Bond Street or Fifth Avenue, natty, trim, wide-shouldered.
"Nothing," returned the wide-shouldered seaman with a shrug. "Except that there may be more to it than we think, Brian." "The Dark Master will not suspect your return so suddenly," spoke up Nuala. "Pay no heed to Shaun, Brian he was ever a croaker. When think you we had best start?" "I am no seaman," laughed Brian. "Get there at dawn, that is all.
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