As to that, she reflected, of late they had not been the friends and comrades they formerly were.

In the thrilling uncertainty of this meeting she had forgotten his distant manner and the absence of little attentions she had missed.
By this time the cowboy had reached the level, and with the lazy grace of his kind slipped out of the saddle.

He was tall, slim, round-limbed, with the small hips of a rider, and square, though not broad shoulders.
He stood straight like an Indian.

His eyes were hazel, his features regular, his face bronzed.

All men of the open had still, lean, strong faces, but added to this in him was a steadiness of expression, a restraint that seemed to hide sadness.
"Howdy, Columbine!" he said.