Over the whole group there was a singular air of waiting.

No one was enjoying himself, and all wished that they were on the road home, but there was no way out of it now.

It was evident that Lime purposed forcing the beginning of the battle on Steve.
He sat in statuesque repose.
Steve had got his hat in his hand and held it doubled up like a club, and every time that he turned in his restless walk he struck the bar a resounding blow.

His eyes seemed to see nothing, although they moved wildly from side to side.
He lifted up his voice in a raucous snarl.

"I'm the man that struck Billy Patterson! I'm the man that bunted the bull off the bridge! Anybody got anything to say, now's his time.