It showed in the clear white of his gleaming, indomitable eyes, in his thin, sensitive nostrils and long, shapely muzzle; in the contour of his head and chest, and in his slender, sinewy legs.
Man and horse were big, capable, strong-willed.

They were equipped for life in the grim, wild country that surrounded them.

From the slender, powerful limbs of the big bay, to the cartridge-studded belt that encircled the man's middle, with a heavy pistol at the right hip, they seemed to typify the ruggedness of the country, seemed to embody the spirit of the Wild.
Lawler mounted, and the big bay whistled as he pranced across the ranchhouse yard to the big corral where the cattle were confined.

Lawler brought the bay to a halt at a corner of the corral fence, where his foreman, Blackburn, who had been breakfasting in the messhouse, advanced to meet him, having seen Lawler step down from the gallery.
Blackburn was of medium height, swarthy, with heavy brows under which were keen, deep-set eyes.

His mouth was big, expressive, with a slightly cynical set in repose.
"We're hittin' the trail in about an hour," said Blackburn.