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.