“No cars, now—­damn them!  Not a single car!  Understand, Simmons?  No cars—­you can’t get them!  No matter what happens, you can’t get cars—­for anybody!”

He left Simmons and descended to the street.  As he passed the front of the Willets Hotel he saw Lawler and his friends inside; but Lawler had his back turned, and the others were interestedly watching him, gesturing and talking.

Warden entered the front door of the Wolf.  He stopped at the bar for a drink, and the barkeeper told him, in reply to his question, that Singleton was in a rear room.

Singleton was alone.  He was sitting in a chair at a table, with a glass in front of him, and he was staring abstractedly at the floor when Warden entered, closing the door behind him.

Warden drew a chair up to the table and dropped into it.  And then for the first time he looked closely at Singleton’s face and saw the gash on his left cheek.  The wound had been treated, but beneath the cloth at one end Warden could see the open flesh.

“What in blazes has happened to you?” inquired Warden.

“Lawler,” growled Singleton; “he walloped my kid down at the schoolhouse, an’ when I went down there to take the kid’s part, he walloped me, too.”  He grinned lugubriously.  “I didn’t know the cuss could hit so hard,” he muttered.  “Warden, he salivated me—­hit me so durned hard I thought the roof had dropped on me.”

Warden stiffened; then leaned forward, his lips loose, his eyes malignant.  “What do you carry those two guns for, Singleton?  I thought you knew how to use them.  Men have told me you know.”

“Bah!” exclaimed Singleton.  His gaze met Warden’s, his eyes gleaming with resentment.  “What do you know about Kane Lawler?”

“I hate him, Singleton.”

“Well, I reckon you ain’t the only one.  I ain’t exactly in love with the cuss, myself.  I was thinkin’ of my guns when I was with him in the schoolhouse, but somehow I didn’t feel like takin’ a chance on slingin’ ‘em.  I ain’t tryin’ to explain nothin’—­I just couldn’t make my hands go for ’em, that’s all.  Hell!  I reckon the man who can draw a gun on Kane Lawler when he’s lookin’ at him ain’t been born yet.  But I’m gettin’ square with him for wallopin’ me—­I’m lettin’ you know that, right enough!”

“You’ll have your chance, Singleton.  Lawler will have to trail his cattle—­as far as Red Rock, anyway.”

Singleton’s eyes glowed with venomous satisfaction.  He grinned evilly at Warden.

“So he wouldn’t do business with you, eh?  I knowed it, an’ I’ve been gettin’ ready.  Ha, ha!  He’ll wish he had.  Blondy Antrim rode in as far as Kinney’s canon last night.  I met him an’ had a long talk with him.  He’s keen for it—­says he admires any guy which can plan a thing that big.  Grinned like a hyena when I told him the big guys back of it wouldn’t let any law interfere.  He’s got seventy men, he says—­dare-devil gun-fighters from down south a piece which will do anything he tells ’em an’ howl for more.”