Sheriff Moreton waited for Warden to act, as he had promised.  And the sheriff continued to wait.  For Warden did not appear with his evidence.  It seemed that the power behind Warden had called a truce; that it had been disconcerted by its failures, and was waiting—­slowly marshaling its forces for another assault.  But the power was working secretly, if it worked at all, for during the winter there were no visible signs which would indicate activity on the part of Lawler’s enemies.

Nature seemed to wait, also.  The country, between storms, lay bare and naked, bleakly barren where the winds swept; somber in the valleys, with desolation reigning on the coldly gleaming peaks of the hills and the distant mountains.

Willets was somnolent, lethargic.  Occasionally a canvas-covered wagon rumbled over the frozen windrows of the town’s one street, and rumbled out again, loaded with supplies for a distant ranch; or a group of cowboys, in search of diversion, came into town for a night.  But these visitations were so infrequent as to create no disturbance in the dull, slumberous routine of Willets’ citizens.

Warden and Della Wharton, accompanied by Aunt Hannah, had taken a west-bound train shortly after Miss Wharton’s adventure in the Circle L line cabin.  It was whispered they had gone to the capital for the winter.

Sheriff Moreton had ridden over to the Circle L, to quiz Lawler about the killing of Link and Givens.

“The coroner’s verdict didn’t incriminate no one,” said Moreton.  “I told him some Two Diamond men had found the bodies down south a ways, an’ that they wasn’t no evidence to show who’d done for ’em.  Now, Lawler, if you’d give me a straight story I’d be obliged to you.”

Lawler gave him a “straight” story, merely omitting mention of Miss Wharton.

“Cut your fence, eh?” muttered the sheriff, gruffly; “well, I reckon they got what was comin’ to ’em!”

Lawler had ridden over to the Hamlin cabin twice, making his visits short, for he saw the embarrassment in Ruth’s eyes, over what he had done for Hamlin.

A change had come over Hamlin.  His eyes held a straightforward gleam that had not been in them for a long time; he held his head erect, his step was springy and full of reliance.  He seemed rejuvenated, imbued with a new spirit.  Several times Lawler saw Ruth’s eyes following him with pleasure; though she blushed when she caught Lawler watching her.

When the mild winds of spring began to sweep across the wide levels, and the sun began to shed its welcome warmth over the land, Lawler rode again to the Hamlin cabin.  This time there was an anxious light in Hamlin’s eyes; and Ruth was pale and worried.

“There’s been strange doin’s around here, lately, Lawler,” Hamlin said when Lawler questioned him.  “If you hadn’t rode over today, I was intendin’ to sneak over to the Circle L an’ tell you about it.

“The other night I was ridin’ north—­near Bolton’s Shallow—­where the old trail crosses, leadin’ to Kinney’s canon.  There’s some new grass there, an’ my cattle is dead set on gettin’ it.  I’d got ’em, an’ started back with ’em—­easin’ ’em down that little gully near the river—­an’ bein’ plumb out of sight from the shallow—­when I seen a trail herd comin’—­west!