While he silently fought the lust that filled his heart the secretary came in.  He started and then stood rigid, watching Lawler, seeming to divine something of the struggle that was going on before his eyes.  He saw how Lawler’s muscles had tensed, how his chin had gone forward with a vicious thrust—­noted the awful indecision that had seized the man.  As the secretary watched, he realized that Lawler was on the verge of surrendering to the passions he was fighting—­for Lawler had again taken up the cartridge belt and was opening his coat to buckle the belt around him.

“Governor.”

It was the secretary’s voice.  It was low, conveying the respect that the man always used in addressing Lawler.  But the sound startled Lawler like the explosion of a bomb in the room.  He flashed around, saw the secretary—­looked steadily at him for one instant, and then dropped the belt to the desk, tossed the pistols into the drawer and smiled mirthlessly.

“Governor,” said the secretary; “your train is ready.”

The secretary stood within three yards of Lawler, and before he could turn to go out, Lawler had reached him.  He seized both the man’s hands, gripped them tightly, and said, hoarsely: 

“Thank you, Williams.”

Then he released the secretary’s hands and plunged out through the door, while the secretary, smiling wisely, walked to the desk and picking up the cartridge belt, dropped it into the drawer with the pistols.

CHAPTER XLI

THE CLEAN-UP

The Wolf Saloon was in a big frame building that stood at a little distance from the back of the street, with a wide, open space on each side of it.  Lights were flickering from some of the upstairs windows of the building when Shorty and the other Circle L men reached town.  Shorty and his men had ridden hard, and they had seen a horse and rider halt in front of the building while they were yet a mile or so out on the plains.  And when Shorty’s horse struck the edge of town Shorty headed him straight for the Wolf, veering when he reached it and passing to the open space from which ran an outside stairway.  The other men followed Shorty’s example, and they were close at his heels when he slipped off his horse and ran around to the front of the Wolf.

Warden had come out shortly before; he was now in his office farther down the street, congratulating himself upon the outcome of the incident in the saloon.  He had struck a damaging blow at Lawler.  At a stroke he was evening his score with the latter.

Several other men had emerged from the saloon.  When Shorty reached the front door four men were just emerging, carrying another.  Suspicious, alert, Shorty halted the men and peered closely at the face of the man they were carrying.

“It’s Joe Hamlin!” he said as he recognized the other’s face.

Shorty’s eyes were glowing with rage and suspicion.