"I'm a-tryin' to theenk.

Shut up, won't you ?" Pringle sighed patiently at the rebuff and stole a timid glance at the thinker.

Espalin was a lean little, dried-up manikin, with legs, arms, and mustaches disproportionately long for his dwarfish body.

His black, wiry hair hung in ragged witchlocks; his black pin-point eyes were glittering, cold, and venomous.

He looked, thought Pringle, very much like a spider.
"I'm steerin' you right, old man," said Creagan.