He lifted his head and glared.

His face was grimy, his hair matted with mud.

Alice, although brave enough and quite accustomed to startling experiences, uttered a cry when she saw those snaky eyes glistening so savagely amid the shadows.

But Jean was quick to recognize Long-Hair; he had often seen him about town, a figure not to be forgotten.
"They've been hunting him everywhere," he said in a half whisper to Alice, clutching the skirt of her dress.

"It's Long-Hair, the Indian who stole the brandy; I know him." Alice recoiled a pace or two.
"Let's go back and tell 'em," Jean added, still whispering, "they want to kill him; Oncle Jazon said so.