The keen, good-looking face was warm and moist as the result of a most violent soaping.

He wore corduroy riding-breeches, cavalry boots that betrayed their age in spite of a late polishing at the hands of an energetic and carefully directed bootblack, and a broad leather belt from which only half an eye was required to see that a holster had been detached with a becoming regard for neatness.

His hair was thick and sun-bleached; his eyes, dark and unafraid, met the stern gaze of the captain with directness and respect; his lips and chin were firm in repose, but they might easily be the opposite if relaxed; his skin was so tanned and wind-bitten that the whites of his eyes were startlingly defined and vivid.

He was not a tall man,--indeed, one would have been justified in suspecting him of being taller than he really was because of the more or less deceiving erectness with which he carried himself.
As a matter of fact, he was not more than five feet ten or ten and a half.
Captain Trigger eyed him narrowly for a moment.
"What is your name ?" "A.

A.Percival, sir." "Your full name, young man.