The Trail Horde | Page 4

the girl loved him; he knew

it as positively as he knew she would not marry him while the stigma of
guilt rested upon her parent. And he was convinced that she was
ignorant of the fact that Lawler shared her secret. That was why Lawler
had permitted Hamlin to escape; it was why he had issued orders to his
men to suffer Hamlin's misdeeds without exacting the expiation that
custom provided. Lawler did not want Ruth to know that he knew.
He sent the big bay forward at a steady, even pace, and in an hour he
had crossed the sweep of upland and was riding a narrow trail that
veered gradually from the trail to Willets. The character of the land had
changed, and Lawler was now riding over a great level, thickly dotted
with bunch grass, with stretches of bars, hard sand, clumps of cactus
and greasewood.
He held to the narrow trail. It took him through a section of dead,
crumbling lava and rotting rock; through a little stretch of timber, and
finally along the bank of a shallow river--the Wolf--which ran after
doubling many times, through the Circle L valley.
In time he reached a little grass level that lay close to the river. A small
cabin squatted near the center of the clearing, surrounded by several
outbuildings in a semi-dilapidated condition, and a corral, in which
there were several horses.
Lawler sent Red King straight toward the cabin. When he reached the
cabin he swung off and walked toward the door, his lips set in straight
lines, his manner decisive.
He had taken only several steps when a voice greeted him, coming
from the interior of the cabin--a man's voice, snarling, venomous:
"You come another step, Kane Lawler, an' I'll bore you!"
Lawler halted, facing the door. The door was closed, but a little slide in
the upper part of it was open. Through the aperture projected the
muzzle of a rifle, and behind the rifle appeared a man's face--dark,
bearded, with eyes that gleamed with ferocious malignancy.

CHAPTER II
DRIVING A BARGAIN
Lawler stiffened. There was no mistaking the deadly threat of the rifle
and the man's menacing manner. Lawler's face was pale, but his eyes
were unwavering as they looked into those that glared out at him
through the aperture in the door.
Guilt and fear were the emotions that had driven Hamlin to this rather
hysterical threat. Lawler resisted an impulse to laugh, though he felt a
pulse of grim humor shoot through him.
To his knowledge--excepting Hamlin's predilection to rustle cattle--the
man was harmless. He never had been known to draw a gun, even in
self-defense, and Lawler was convinced that there was not sufficient
provocation for him to break one of the rules that had governed him
until now. Hamlin might be goaded, or frightened, into using the rifle,
but Lawler had no intention of goading or frightening him. In fact,
being aware of the reason for Hamlin's belligerence, he had no
intention of acquainting the man with the knowledge of what had
happened the night before. At least, not at this instant.
Lawler's lips wore a shadowy smile.
"I reckon you don't know me, Hamlin?" he said.
"I know you mighty well, Lawler," snapped Hamlin; "you heard me
mention your name!"
"Then you've got a new way of greeting your friends, eh--with a rifle.
Well, put it down and open the door. There's some things I want to say
to you."
"What about?" asked Hamlin, suspiciously. Overwhelming every other
thought in his mind was the conviction that Davies and Harris had
apprised Lawler of what had happened the night before, and that
Lawler had come to capture him, single-handed.

"About Ruth."
The wild gleam in Hamlin's eyes began to dull. However, he was still
suspicious.
"You seen any of your men this mornin'--Davies or Harris?" he asked.
"Davies and Harris went to town last night. I reckon they didn't get
back yet. What's Davies and Harris got to do with me visiting you?"
"Nothin'." There was relief in Hamlin's voice. The muzzle of the rifle
wavered; the weapon was withdrawn and the slide closed. Then the
door slowly opened, and Hamlin appeared in it, a six-shooter in hand.
"If you're foolin' me, Kane Lawler, I'll sure bore you a-plenty!" he
threatened.
"Shucks!" Lawler advanced to the door, ignoring the heavy pistol,
which was shoved close to his body as he walked into the cabin,
Hamlin retreating before him.
"Hamlin, you're losing whatever sense you had," said Lawler as he
halted near the center of the big room. There were three rooms, their
doors opening from the one in which Lawler and Hamlin stood.
"Meanin' what?" demanded Hamlin, nervously fingering the
six-shooter.
It was clear that Hamlin was impressed with the repressed