brought him to a halt. Low padded thuds told him horses were
coming this way. He sank down in the gloom, waiting, listening.
Much before he had expected, judging from sound, to his amazement
he descried horsemen near at hand. They were riding along the
border of the sage, and instantly he knew the hoofs of the horses
were muffled. Then the pale starlight afforded him indistinct
sight of the riders. But his eyes were keen and used to the dark,
and by peering closely he recognized the huge bulk and
black-bearded visage of Oldring and the lithe, supple form of the
rustler's lieutenant, a masked rider. They passed on; the
darkness swallowed them. Then, farther out on the sage, a dark,
compact body of horsemen went by, almost without sound, almost
like specters, and they, too, melted into the night.



CHAPTER III. AMBER SPRING

No unusual circumstances was it for Oldring and some of his men
to visit Cottonwoods in the broad light of day, but for him to
prowl about in the dark with the hoofs of his horses muffled
meant that mischief was brewing. Moreover, to Venters the
presence of the masked rider with Oldring seemed especially
ominous. For about this man there was mystery, he seldom rode
through the village, and when he did ride through it was swiftly;
riders seldom met by day on the sage, but wherever he rode there
always followed deeds as dark and mysterious as the mask he wore.
Oldring's band did not confine themselves to the rustling of
cattle.