There was Wat Lyman, whose white beard fanned wide and low across his faded blue shirt.
Whose time and weather-beaten face, like a carving in mahogany, was seamed like the payrock he had spent his life in seeking - Wat Lyman, prospector, and the only miner Of the four of them, a giant whose eyes were a little dim and whose muscles were a little lacking in fibrin, but whose word was his bond and whose courage never faltered.