A moment or two later the riders stopped in front of the ranch house.

Brave growled again, but was silenced by the hand on his neck.
Young Matt was at the window.

"I see them," he whispered.

"They're gettin' off their horses, and tyin' them to the corral fence." The smile on the shepherd's face vanished, and he experienced a queer sensation; it was as though something gripped his heart.
The other continued his whispered report; "They're bunchin' up now under the old tree, talkin' things over.

Don't know what to make of the dog not bein' around, I reckon.