They were descending the long slope over which the herd had been driven.
Lawler counted them--thirty-nine.

But the menace was no longer invisible; it was now a material thing which could be met on such terms as might be, with the law of chance to govern the outcome.
Lawler did not doubt that the on-coming riders were hostile.

He had felt that when he first had been made aware of their presence behind the herd.

He saw, too, that the men of his outfit felt as he did; for they were all on their feet, their faces grim, their eyes glowing with the rage that had gripped them over the presence of the unseen menace; their muscles were tensed and their lips were in the sullen pout which presages the imminence of action.
Shorty, the tawny giant, was a terrible figure.

He seemed to be outwardly cool, and there was not a sign of passion in his manner.