This man was a sun-browned, smooth-faced, pleasant-featured man of perhaps thirty-two or thirty-three years.
Dressed in khaki trousers, with blue flannel shirt, sombrero and well-worn puttee leggings, he might have been mistaken for a soldier.

Though his eyes were pleasant to look at, there was an expression of great shrewdness in them.

The lines around his mouth bespoke the man's firmness.

He was about five-feet-eight in height, slim and had the general bearing of a strong man accustomed to hard work.
"Boys," he began in a low voice, whereat both Tom and Harry faced swiftly about, "you shouldn't rile Bad Pete that way.

He's an ugly character, who carries all he knows of law in his holsters, and we're a long way from the sheriff's officers." "Is he really bad ?" asked Tom innocently.
"Really bad ?" laughed the man in khaki.