It was a peculiar movement in its quickness and inasmuch that while performing it the rider did not swerve in the slightest from a square front to the group before him.
"Look!" hoarsely whispered one of Tull's companions.

"He packs two black-butted guns--low down--they're hard to see--black akin them black chaps." "A gun-man!" whispered another.

"Fellers, careful now about movin' your hands." The stranger's slow approach might have been a mere leisurely manner of gait or the cramped short steps of a rider unused to walking; yet, as well, it could have been the guarded advance of one who took no chances with men.
"Hello, stranger!" called Tull.

No welcome was in this greeting only a gruff curiosity.
The rider responded with a curt nod.

The wide brim of a black sombrero cast a dark shade over his face.