There was no reply, but the gleaming black eyes never left his own, nor
did the figure on the horse move a hair's breadth.
"Vy don't you say someding?" said Carl, his voice sounding like the
piping noise of the wind through a keyhole. "Speak someding."
Then it suddenly struck Carl that the man could not speak, because in
that white, immovable face there was no mouth to speak with, only those
black, blazing eyes.
"If you can't speak, make motionings," said Carl, in an imploring voice.
The sinister figure on the black horse slowly raised his arm, and
motioned Carl toward him, at the same time swinging his black horse
around and riding toward the mountains.
Chilled to the heart, Carl obeyed the signal, and sent his pony forward.
The man, apparition, demon, or whatever it was, sent his horse into a
gallop, and Carl, with no volition on his own part, followed at the same
speed.
But with the black and menacing eyes of the man with the dead face away
from his own, some small part of courage oozed back into Carl again, and
he remembered Ted's injunction to question every stranger met on the
range, and if he did not give a satisfactory answer to drive him off.
But Carl had not got over the fright the sight of that face and eyes had
thrown him into.
Suddenly his hand came into contact with the handle of his six-shooter,
and a thrill of daring ran through him.
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