Antrim grinned coldly around at the other men.

“We’ll clean up on Lawler tonight, boys,” he said.  “We’ve got to work fast!”

He stood, boldly outlined in the light, a sinister figure.  His cruel lips were set tightly, his eyes were agleam.  He was a symbol of passion, rampant and unrecking—­a wild, violent spirit to whom laws were irksome shackles.

He grinned at Slade, mockingly, naked malevolence in his gaze.  His voice was harsh, vibrant.

“Slade, tonight you’re goin’ to get what you’ve been waitin’ for—­the leadership!  Ha, ha!” he laughed as he saw Slade’s face work with the bitter rage that instantly seized him.  “You thought I didn’t know you wanted my place—­eh?  Bah!  I’ve known it for a year.  You’re ambitious, eh?  Well, listen!

“Tonight you’re leadin’ this little party.  You’re to run off them cattle of Lawler’s—­three thousand head—­which he euchered me out of last fall.  You’re takin’ three thousand head, Slade—­not a one less.  If you take less you’re through with me.  You’ll run ’em down through Kinney’s canon, clear through to the big basin beyond.  At the other end you’ll head ’em south, to Mexico—­where we’ve been runnin’ ’em for three years past.  You’ll take a receipt for them from a guy named Miguel Lomo, who will be waitin’ for you at Panya—­where you knifed that Oiler last summer.  Warden arranged that.

“You’ll post a dozen men in Kinney’s canon, to drop anyone that follows.  There’s goin’ to be no excuses, or you settle with me—­afterward.  Understand?”

Slade’s eyes glared with savage triumph and defiance.  He grinned felinely at the other, and when he spoke there was cold, taunting contempt in his voice.

“I’m doin’ it, Antrim!  I’m tickled to get the chance.  But where are you goin’ to be tonight?”

Antrim flushed darkly.  He laughed.  “I’m figurin’ to do a man’s work—­tonight or tomorrow, Slade.  Somethin’ that you ain’t got nerve enough to do—­I’m goin’ to face Kane Lawler when he’s riled, with a gun in his hand!  I’m goin’ to down him right here in this room!”

Slade started, his face paled.  He laughed mirthlessly.

“Well,” he said, watching Antrim keenly; “if he’s as fast as he used to be—­before gettin’ to be a big guy in this neck of the woods tamed him—­you’ll have to be lightnin’—­an’ then some!”

He wheeled, and went out of the door, where he stood, looking toward the plains on the other side of the river, grinning derisively.

* * * * *

Two hours later Selden clattered to the door of the cabin and dismounted, conveying the news that Moreton and Lawler were riding north, toward Willets.  And within a few minutes after the appearance of Selden, Slade and forty-eight of Antrim’s men rode swiftly, scurrying into the star haze, straight into the south wind that swept out of the Wolf River valley.

The men rode close together for more than an hour, until they reached the crest of the big valley, where they halted, closely massed, and scanned the semi-gloom in front of them.