"Boys, get ready.

They're comin' now!" Mat Henshaw took up the word, and repeated it, and the whisper ran down the line of men who lay irregularly among the rocks, until at last Sliver Waldron brought it to a stop with a deep murmur.

Not even a whisper could altogether disguise his booming bass.

It seemed to Vic Gregg that the air about him grew more tense; his arm muscles commenced to ache from the gripping of his hands.

Then a door creaked--they could tell the indubitable sound as if there were a light to see it swing cautiously wide.
"They're goin' out the back way," interpreted the sheriff, "but they'll come around in front.