As to the character of her steadfast gaze attached upon him with a sensuously savage attention, "to know what it was like," says Mr.Byrne, "you have only to observe a hungry cat watching a bird in a cage or a mouse inside a trap." It was she who served him the food, of which he was glad; though with those big slanting black eyes examining him at close range, as if he had something curious written on his face, she gave him an uncomfortable sensation.

But anything was better than being approached by these blear-eyed nightmarish witches.

His apprehensions somehow had been soothed; perhaps by the sensation of warmth after severe exposure and the ease of resting after the exertion of fighting the gale inch by inch all the way.

He had no doubt of Tom's safety.

He was now sleeping in the mountain camp having been met by Gonzales' men.
Byrne rose, filled a tin goblet with wine out of a skin hanging on the wall, and sat down again.