The Frenchman's face was wild and haggard.

His eyes gleamed red and bloodshot as he stared at the engineer.
"_Mon Dieu_, I had hoped to find you dead," he whispered huskily.
He reached up to hang the big oil lamp he carried to a hook in the log ceiling, and Howland sat amazed at the expression on his face.

Jean's great eyes gleamed like living coals from out of a death-mask.

Either fear or pain had wrought deep lines in his face.

His hands trembled as he steadied the lamp.