HAZEL thought her reason was going; and, instead of looking at the men's eyes, it was hers he examined.

But no; the sweet cheek was white, the eyes had a fearful hollow all round them, but, out of that cave the light hazel eye, preternaturally large, but calm as ever, looked out, full of fortitude, resignation, and reason.
"Don't look at _me,"_ said she, quietly; "but take an opportunity and look at _them._ They mean to kill me." Hazel looked furtively round; and, being enlightened in part by the woman's intelligence, he observed that some of the men were actually glaring at himself and Helen Rolleston in a dreadful way.

There was a remarkable change in their eyes since he looked last.

The pupils seemed diminished, the whites enlarged; and, in a word, the characteristics of humanity had, somehow, died out of those bloodshot orbs, and the animal alone shone in them now; the wild beast, driven desperate by hunger.
What he saw, coupled with Helen's positive interpretation of it, was truly sickening.
These men were six, and he but one.

They had all clasp-knives; and he had only an old penknife that would be sure to double up or break off if a blow were dealt with it.
He asked himself, in utter terror, what on earth he should do.
The first thing seemed to be to join the men and learn their minds.