On the top of a rise of ground he brought Satan to a halt and looked back, though Black Bart ran in a circle around him, and whined anxiously.

Bart knew that they should be running; there was no good in that ragged dust-cloud.

Finally he sat down on his haunches and looked his master in the face, quivering with eagerness.

The posse came closer, at the rate of a racing horse, and near at hand the tufts of dust which tossed up above and behind the riders dissolved, and Whistling Dan made them out clearly, and more clearly.
For one form he looked above all, a big man who rode somewhat slanting; but Vic Gregg was not among the crowd, and for the rest, Barry had no wish to come within range of their harm.

The revolver at his side, the rifle in the case, were for the seventh man who must die for Grey Molly.
These who followed him mattered nothing--except that he must not come within their reach.