They wore dungaree trousers, which had once been blue, but were now begrimed and bloodstained to a dull neutral colour.

Their shirts--once coloured, but now nearly black--were worn outside the trousers, like a countryman's smock frock, and were drawn in at the waist by broad leathern belts full of cartridges.

Their faces were half-hidden by stubbly beards, and their bright alert eyes looked out from under the brims of two as dilapidated felt hats as ever graced head of man.

Each carried a carbine between thigh and saddle.

These were the buffalo shooters.
Behind them rode an elderly, grizzled man, whom Hugh had no difficulty in recognising as Keogh, or Considine.