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If we are forced to winter our stock on the ranges half of them would die of starvation and exposure before spring." Hatfield narrowed his eyes and studied Lawler's face. He half pursed his lips for a smile, but something in the grave, level eyes that looked into his dissuaded him, and he frowned and cleared his throat. "It looks mighty bad, for a fact," he said.

"Jim Lefingwell told me he'd had a talk with you about my agreement with him, and Jim said you'd carry it out." "Mr. Lefingwell did not mention the matter to me." "I'd hate to think Jim Lefingwell lied to me," said Lawler, slowly. Warden's face grew crimson. "Meaning that I'm a liar, I suppose," he said, his voice quavering with sudden passion. Lawler's level gaze made him stiffen in his chair.

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.

But they kept their eyes lowered, not looking at Lawler, for they felt that this surrender was not relished by him. Caldwell almost jumped with astonishment when he felt Lawler's hands on his shoulders; and he looked hard at the other, wondering, vastly relieved when Lawler laughed. "I reckon I don't blame you," said Lawler. "It's a mighty blue outlook.

It was clear that Hamlin was impressed with the repressed force that he could see in Lawler; with the slumbering energy that Lawler's lithe, sinewy body suggested; with the man's complete lack of fear and with the cold confidence that swam in his steady eyes. Hamlin did not know at this minute whether or not he had meant to shoot Lawler.

And Lawler's gun did swing up again, but the voice of the tall man came, blurtingly: "Warden told us to knife any men we found here." Lawler's lips straightened, and his eyes glowed with a passion so intense that the men shrank, gibbering, in the grip of a mighty paralysis. Lawler walked to the table and sat beside it, placing the gun near his right hand.

Lawler's pity for the man was stronger than the resentment he felt. Hamlin was Ruth's father, though looking at him as he sat dejectedly in the chair, Lawler found it hard to discern the relationship. "How long has Singleton been buying cattle from you?" "About a year.

That knowledge had always exerted a deterring influence upon Singleton; there had been times when he would have drawn a gun on Lawler had it not been that he feared the son might be as swift as the father. So Singleton had assured himself; he was not afraid of Lawler, he was afraid of the reputation of Lawler's father.

The miles that had stretched between him and the destination at which his rider aimed had been mere play for him. By the time he reached the river trail he was warmed to his work and his giant, spurning stride carried him along in the shade of the fringing trees at a speed that made the wind whine and moan in Lawler's ears. But Lawler did not offer to check Red King's speed.

It seemed to him that Lawler would snap his head from his shoulders, so viciously did Lawler shake him. Then suddenly the terrible fingers relaxed, and Hamlin reeled and swayed, dizzy and weak from the violence of movement. He was trying to keep his feet solidly on the floor when he felt Lawler's fingers at his throat. To his astonishment, the fingers did not sink into the flesh.