Even now he wore a look of defiance.
But the other, number 406, was all wrong. While no physical
descriptions were listed on the tally sheet he held, this surely could
not be a man who had fled across half the country, hunted and
desperate, remaining with and protecting his doubly afflicted
companion.
Beside the physical anomalies---the body before him was lean, but not
from hunger, and bore no other signs of a destitute existence---he
could find no indication in the pale, languid countenance of the
necessary courage and character to survive such an ordeal. Indeed, it
was difficult to imagine a face that exhibited less character, or
spoke of a nature so obviously low and unseemly.
And what of the way he had been killed---by a single, clean
blade-thrust to the heart? Why wouldn't mounted patrols simply shoot
him, if it came to it, rather than dismount, and engage in
hand-to-hand fighting? Such a confrontation, with such a result,
seemed unlikely at best. And to think of it, why had Talbert been shot
in the back? A dying man, and one of his fiery and unstable
temperament, was not likely to turn and run from his final meeting
with the hated English pursuers.
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