"The fog muffles sounds.

The road's pretty level in here." "We must get them out of it and into my territory for safety.

We're within a mile of the gate and we ought to be able to crowd them into that long open strip where the fences are down.

Damn the fog!" The agreed signal of two shots reached them again, but clearer, like drum-taps, and was immediately answered by scattering shots.

A moment later, as the two riders moved forward at a walk, a sharp volley rang out quite clearly and they heard shouts and the crack of revolvers again.
"By George! They're coming--here we go!" They put their horses to the gallop and rode swiftly through the fog.