This last had an arresting appearance. Between thirty-five and forty years of age, of slight build, he had one remarkable feature —a skin, which even the fierce sun of the South-west could not colour; his clean-shaven face was white, the unhealthy, sickly white of something grown in darkness, and in this deathly pallor were set blue eyes like polished stones, un-winking, expressionless. “Whitey”—for so the man was known—never smiled, his face might have been a marble mask, but lacked the dignity of the carven stone. He wore two guns, and his long, talon-like fingers were never far from their butts. “Well, boys, I saw Purdie this mornin’ an’—like I guessed—he’s all set for war—wouldn’t listen to nothin’ else,” King began, and grinned. “Slippery was there, by chance, o’ course. That puts us right with Windy; Chris won’t get no sympathy there. So we can go ahead.” “An’ with Kit outa the way there shouldn’t be no difficulty,”
What do You think about Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 02 - Sudden(1933)?
