Lawler folded his arms over his chest and with the fingers of one hand caressing his chin, watched the door.

“Ruth,” he said, finally; “where is your father?”

“I—­I d-don’t know.  And I don’t c-care.”

Lawler started, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion as he looked at the door—­it seemed that he was trying to peer through it.

“Ruth,” he said slowly; “I saw you looking into the schoolhouse through the broken window, after I hit Singleton the second time, and while I was talking to him.  What did you hear?”

“Everything, Kane—­everything.”  The sobs were furious, now.

Lawler frowned through a silence during which his eyes glowed savagely.  Then, after a while, he spoke again.

“I’ve known it for a long time, Ruth.”

“Oh!” she sobbed.

“It was Singleton’s fault.  He won’t do it any more.”

There was no answer; a brooding silence came from beyond the door.

Then Lawler said gently:  “Ruth, I’m asking you again:  Will you marry me?”

“I’ll never marry you, now, Kane—­never, never, never!”

The sobs had ceased now; but the voice was choked with emotion.

“All right, Ruth,” said Lawler; “I’ll ask you again, sometime.  And the next time you won’t refuse.”

He crossed the floor and stepped outside.  Leaping into the saddle he sent Red King thundering away from the cabin into the dusk that swathed the southern distance.

A yellow moon was rising above the peaks of the hills at the far edge of the Wolf River valley when Lawler dismounted from Red King and strode to the big Circle L bunkhouse.  Inside a kerosene lamp burned on a table around which were several men.

The men looked up in astonishment as Lawler entered; then got to their feet, looking at Lawler wonderingly, for on his face was an expression that none of them ever had seen there before.

“Have any of you seen Joe Hamlin?” said Lawler.

A yellow-haired giant among them grinned widely and pointed eloquently toward a bunk, where a man’s body, swathed in blankets, could be seen.

“That’s him,” said the yellow-haired giant.  “He hit here this mornin’, sayin’ you’d hired him, an’ that he was standin’ straight up on his legs like a man, hereafter.  We took him on under them conditions.”

Lawler strode to the bunk.  He deliberately unrolled the blankets, seized Hamlin by the middle and lifted him, setting him down on the floor ungently.

By the time Lawler released him, Hamlin had his eyes open, and he blinked in bewilderment at the faces of the men, opening his mouth with a snap when he saw Lawler.

“Lawler, what in blazes is the matter—­I ain’t done nothin’!”

“You’re going to do something!” declared Lawler.  He waited until Hamlin dressed, then he led him outside.  At an end of the corral fence, where no one could hear, Lawler talked long and earnestly to Hamlin.  And when Hamlin left, riding a Circle L horse, he was grinning.