Jury-Law books

I don't even know where he stows his small
tackle. Do you?"
Fully a minute did Lawford Tapp keep him waiting for an answer while he
stared at the stranger. He was not a big man, but he somehow gave the
impression of muscular power. He was dressed in shabby
clothing--shirt, dungaree trousers, and canvas shoes such as sailors
work and go aloft in. The pipe he smoked was Cap'n Abe's--Lawford
recognized it.
There was not, however, another thing about this man to remind one of
the old storekeeper. This stranger was burned to a rich mahogany hue.
Not alone his shaven face, but his bared forearms and his chest where
the shirt was left unbuttoned seemed stained by the tropical sun.
Under jet-black brows the eyes that gazed upon Lawford Tapp seemed dark.
His sweeping mustache was black; and such hair as was visible showed
none of the iron gray of advancing age in it. He wore gold rings in
his ears and to cap his piratical-looking figure was a red bandana worn
turbanwise upon his head.
"What's the matter with you, young feller? Cat got your tongue?"
demanded the stranger.


Pages:
63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87