They hung straight past the corners of the mouth and then curved sabre-like out from the chin.

The sabre parts now wagged back and forth, as their owner moved his lips over words that would not come.

When speech did break out it was a raging torrent that made Marianne stop her ears with a shiver.
Looking down the street away from the storming giant and the laughing cowpuncher, she saw that other folk had come out to watch, Westernlike.
An Eastern crowd would swiftly hem the enemies in a close circle and cheer them on to battle; but these Westerners would as soon see far off as close at hand.

The most violent expression she saw was the broad grin of the blacksmith.

He was a fine specimen of laboring manhood, that blacksmith, with the sun glistening on his sweaty bald head and over his ample, soot-darkened arms.