If those riders were not rustlers he had forgotten how rustlers looked and rode.
On they came, a small group, so compact and dark that he could not tell their number.

How unusual that their horses did not see Wrangle! But such failure, Venters decided, was owing to the speed with which they were traveling.

They moved at a swift canter affected more by rustlers than by riders.

Venters grew concerned over the possibility that these horsemen would actually ride down on him before he had a chance to tell what to expect.

When they were within three hundred yards he deliberately led Wrangle out into the trail.
Then he heard shouts, and the hard scrape of sliding hoofs, and saw horses rear and plunge back with up-flung heads and flying manes.
Several little white puffs of smoke appeared sharply against the black background of riders and horses, and shots rang out.