He hurried, too, tried to keep in the lead.

I wondered if he knew his voice would be recognized by the hiding man.
Be that as it might, it was I who peered into a dark corner, and then with a cocked gun leveled I said: "Come out!" He came forth into the flare of lanterns, a tall, slim, dark-faced youth, wearing dark sombrero, blouse and trousers.

I collared him before any of the others could move, and I held the gun close enough to make him shrink.
But he did not impress me as being frightened just then; nevertheless, he had a clammy face, the pallid look of a man who had just gotten over a shock.

He peered into my face, then into that of the cowboy next to me, then into Wright's and if ever in my life I beheld relief I saw it then.
That was all I needed to know, but I meant to find out more if I could.
"Who're you ?" I asked quietly.
He gazed rather arrogantly down at me.

It always irritated me to be looked down at that way.
"Say, don't be gay with me or you'll get it good," I yelled, prodding him in the side with the cocked gun.