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.
Venters lay low in the shade of the cottonwoods, pondering this
chance meeting, and not for many moments did he consider it safe
to move on. Then, with sudden impulse, he turned the other way
and went back along the grove. When he reached the path leading
to Jane's home he decided to go down to the village.
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