He was a tall, slab-sided individual, with a lean, leathery face, a sweeping white moustache, and a grave and sardonic eye.

His leather chaps were plain and worn, and his hat had been fashioned by time and wear into much individuality.

I was not surprised to hear him nicknamed Sacatone Bill.
"Just ask him how he got that game foot," suggested Johnny Stone to me in an undertone, so, of course, I did not.
Later someone told me that the lameness resulted from his refusal of an urgent invitation to return across a river.

Mr.Sacatone Bill happened not to be riding his own horse at the time.
The Cattleman dropped down beside me a moment later.
"I wish," said he in a low voice, "we could get that fellow talking.
He is a queer one.

Pretty well educated apparently.