Low, flat, isolated, with its dark, eye-like windows, it presented a forbidding and sinister aspect.

Jean distinctly saw the forms of men, some dark, others in shirt sleeves, come to the wide door and look down the road.
"Wal, I reckon only aboot five hundred good hoss steps are separatin' us from that outfit," drawled Blaisdell.
No one replied to his jocularity.

Gaston Isbel's eyes narrowed to a slit in his furrowed face and he kept them fastened upon Greaves's store.

Blue, likewise, had a somber cast of countenance, not, perhaps, any darker nor grimmer than those of his comrades, but more representative of intense preoccupation of mind.

The look of him thrilled Jean, who could sense its deadliness, yet could not grasp any more.