Adams and Harris looked very anxious, and Harry Blake, whose nose had just stopped bleeding, was mournfully carving his name, by sheer force of habit, on the prison bench.

I don't think I ever saw a more "wrecked" expression on any human countenance than Pepper Whitcomb's presented.

His look of natural astonishment at finding himself incarcerated in a jail was considerably heightened by his lack of eyebrows.
As for me, it was only by thinking how the late Baron Trenck would have conducted himself under similar circumstances that I was able to restrain my tears.
None of us were inclined to conversation.

A deep silence, broken now and then by a startling snore from the cells, reigned throughout the chamber.

By and by Pepper Whitcomb glanced nervously towards Phil Adams and said, "Phil, do you think they will--hang us ?" "Hang your grandmother!" returned Adams, impatiently.