He broke a spray of ironwort beside him and used the purple bloom to beat the dust from his shoulders and limbs.

The Boss, busy over his report, was, nevertheless, vaguely alive to the toilet being made behind him, and scored one for the man.
McLean was a Scotchman.

It was his habit to work slowly and methodically.

The men of his camps never had known him to be in a hurry or to lose his temper.

Discipline was inflexible, but the Boss was always kind.