Glancing up at Montalvo, for the second time she saw that look which he had worn at the crisis of the sledge race.

All its urbanity, its careless _bonhomie_, had vanished.

Instead of these appeared a reflection of the last and innermost nature of the man, the rock foundation, as it were, upon which was built the false and decorated superstructure that he showed to the world.

There were the glaring eyes, there the grinning teeth of the Spanish wolf; a ravening brute ready to rend and tear, if so he might satisfy himself with the meat his soul desired.
"Don't play tricks with me," he muttered, "and don't argue, for there is no time.

Do as I bid you, girl, or on your head will be this psalm-singing fellow's blood.