The mouth was mobile, and wayward as a woman's, but the chin might have been modelled in stone--a fighting chin, aggressive, indomitable.

There was something of the ancient Roman about the whole cast of his face which, combined with that high British bearing, made him undeniably remarkable.

Those who looked at him once generally turned to look again.
One of the spectators--a burly Australian farmer--pushed forward from the throng and touched his arm.

"Look here, my son!" he said in an undertone.
"You've no business here, and no call to fight whatever.

Clear out of it--quick! Savvy?
I'll cover your tracks." The boy drew himself up with a haughty movement.