As a matter of fact he looked to be five years older than he was.

His face was set in lines indicating resolution and daring, his drooping mustache hid the boyish curves of his lips, and he carried himself with a singular grace, self-confident, decisive, but not assertive.

The swing of his shoulders had charm, and he walked well.

The cowboy's painful hobble had not yet been fastened upon him.
Sitting there waiting the dawn, his face became tired, somber, almost haggard, with self-accusing thought.

He was not yet a cattle king, he was, in fact, still a cowboy.