He was six feet high, had a black beard which curled about his face, and except for his complexion, which was almost that of an Indian, his dead-black eye into which you could see no farther than into a bullet, and for the pitting of his face by smallpox, he would have been handsome.
"Shut up!" said he to his brother Pitt.

"It's time we're gittin' our grub and pullin' out." Pitt was even taller than Bowie, and under twenty-five in years.

His face was smooth-shaven except for a short, curly black mustache and a little goatee under his mouth His eyes were larger than Bowie's and deep brown, his hair curled down over his rolling collar, and he moved with an air of ease and grace that were in contrast with the slow power of Bowie.

There was no doubt of it--Pitt Bushyager was handsome in a rough, daredevil sort of way.
I am describing them, not from the memory of that morning, but because I knew them well afterward.

I knew all the Bushyager boys, and their father and mother and sisters; and in spite of everything, I rather liked both Pitt and Claib.