He was oppressed by a feeling of the weird and menacing.

He would make the sinister figure move and his hand dropped toward his pistol belt.
"Stop, I can fire before you!" cried the figure sharply, and then Harry suddenly saw a pistol barrel gleaming across the stranger's saddle bow.
Harry checked his hand, but he did not consider himself beaten by any means.

He merely waited, wary and ready to seize his opportunity.
"I don't want to shoot," said the man in a clear voice, "and I won't unless you make me.

I'm no friend.

I'm an enemy, that is, an official enemy, and I think it strange, Harry Kenton, almost the hand of fate, that you and I come face to face again under such circumstances." Harry stared, and then the light broke.