They were not the kind of men whom one would expect to find in these lonely woods in the heart of North America.
The leader of the company--and obviously he was such--was one of the few who belonged to the blonde type.

His eyes were of the chilly, metallic blue, and his hair, long and fair, curled at the ends.

His dress, of some fine, black cloth, was scrupulously neat and clean, and a silver-hilted small sword swung it his belt.

He was not more than thirty.
The fair man was leaning lazily but gracefully against the trunk of a tree, and he talked in a manner that seemed indolent and careless, but which was neither to a youth in buckskins who sat opposite him, a striking contrast in appearance.

This youth was undeniably of the Anglo-Saxon type, large and well-built, with a broad, full forehead, but with eyes set too close together.