In Lawler’s keen eyes, however, glowed understanding—­a knowledge of Warden’s character that vindicated the things he had heard about the man—­the tentative suggestions that Warden was not a worthy successor to Lefingwell.

That knowledge, though, would not have bothered him, had he not seen in Warden’s eyes something that seemed to offer him a personal affront.  As quickly as Warden had veiled his eyes from Lawler, the latter had seen the dislike in them, the antagonism, and the rage that had stained his cheeks.

He had come to Warden’s office with an open mind; now he looked at the man with a saturnine smile in which there was amused contempt.  Assuredly the new buyer did not “measure up” to Jim Lefingwell’s “size,” as Blackburn had suggested.

Therefore, aware that he could not meet this man on the basis of friendliness that had distinguished all his relations with Jim Lefingwell, Lawler’s voice was crisp and businesslike: 

“You’re Gary Warden?”

At the latter’s short, affirmative nod, Lawler continued: 

“I’m Kane Lawler, of the Circle L. I’ve come to make arrangements with you about buying my cattle.  I’ve got eight thousand head—­good clean stock.  They’re above the average, but I’m keeping my word with Jim Lefingwell, and turning them in at the market price.”

“That’s twenty-five dollars, delivered at the railroad company’s corral, in town here.”

He looked straight at Lawler, his face expressionless except for the slight smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth—­which might have been indicative of vindictiveness or triumph.

“Thirty,” smiled Lawler.  “That was the price Lefingwell agreed to pay.”

Warden appeared to be blandly amused.

“Lefingwell agreed to pay thirty, you say?  Well, Lefingwell always was a little reckless.  That’s why my company asked for his resignation.  But if you have a written contract with Lefingwell—­in which it appears that Lefingwell acted for the company, why, of course we’ll have to take your stock at the contract price.  Let me see it, if you please.”

“There was no written contract; I had Jim Lefingwell’s word—­which was all I ever needed.”

“Lefingwell’s word,” smiled Warden.  “Unfortunately, a man’s word is not conclusive proof.”

“Meaning that Jim Lefingwell was lying when he told you he’d agreed to pay thirty dollars for my stock this fall?”

“Oh, no.  I don’t insinuate against Lefingwell’s veracity.  But the company requires a written agreement in a case like this—­where the former representative——­”

“We won’t argue that,” interrupted Lawler.  “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.