He held his whisky glass in his left hand, and the right, which rested carelessly on his hip, was deeply sunburned, as if he rarely wore a glove.
Moreover, his eyes were marvellously direct, and they lingered a negligible space as they touched on each man in the room.

All of this the cattlemen noted instantly.

What they did not see on account of his veiling fingers was that he poured only a few drops of the liquor into his glass.
In the meantime another man who had never before "irrigated" at Morgan's place, rode up.

His mount, like that of the tawny-haired rider, was considerably larger and more finely built than the common range horse.

In three days of hard work a cattle pony might wear down these blooded animals, but would find it impossible to either overtake or escape them in a straight run.