Yet all this was but the result of a glance, as my whole attention concentrated upon a kneeling figure just beneath the loop of the curtain.

The man was facing me, but with eyes closed, and uplifted, as his lips poured forth the fervent words of prayer.

I was not a religious man in those days, yet the faith of my mother was not forgotten, and there was something of sincerity about that solitary kneeling figure I could not but respect.
The words uttered, the deep resonant voice, and above all, the expression of that upturned face, held me silent, motionless.

He was a man of short, sturdy limb, but great bulk, massive chest, and immense shoulders evidencing remarkable strength.

His face was rugged, the jaws square, the chin pronounced, the brow broad, rather than high, with nose like the beak of a hawk.