He had tentatively extended his right hand, the fingers spread, clawlike.

Now the hand was going upward, accompanied by the other.

When the man had stepped backward to escape a collision with Lawler's horse, the wind had whipped his hat from his head.

He now stood there, his hair waving to the vicious whims of the gale, veiling his eyes and he not daring to lower his hands to brush it away.
The shorter man, too, had assumed a statuesque pose.

He had turned when he had noted his companion's startled movement, and he, too, had seen an apparition that had sent his hands swiftly upward.
The big horse stood motionless, his back to the wind.