“It’s a straight trail, Hamlin,” said Lawler gravely, as Hamlin rode away; “a straight trail, and not a word to Ruth!”

“Straight it is, Lawler,” answered Hamlin.  “I’m testifyin’ to that!”

CHAPTER IX

THE ARM OF POWER

Lawler stayed long enough at the Circle L to speak a word with his mother.  His sister Mary had gone to bed when he stepped into the front door of the ranchhouse, to be greeted by Mrs. Lawler, who had heard him cross the porch, recognized his step and had come to meet him.

He smiled at her, but there was a stiffness about his lips, and a cold, whimsical light in his eyes, that told her much.

She drew a deep breath, and smiled faintly.

“You have disagreed with Gary Warden,” she said.  “He will not keep Lefingwell’s agreement.”

“Said he never heard of any agreement,” said Lawler.  “I rode in to tell the boys to hold the herd here until I got back from the capital.  I’m going to see the railroad commissioner—­about cars.  Simmons says there isn’t a car in the state.  If we can’t get cars, we’ll drive to Red Rock.”  He took her face in his hands and patted her cheeks gently.  “Blackburn will probably bed the trail herd down on the Rabbit Ear.  I’m joining him there, and then I’m going to the capital in the morning.”

Mrs. Lawler was standing on the porch when he mounted Red King; she was still standing there when Lawler looked back after he had ridden half a mile.

Lawler found Blackburn and the herd on the Rabbit Ear, as he had anticipated.  The Rabbit Ear was an insignificant creek that intersected the Wolf at a distance of about fifteen miles from the Circle L; and the outfit had selected for a camp a section of plain that ran to the water’s edge.  It was a spot that had been used before by the men of the outfit, and when Lawler rode up the men were stretched out in their blankets around a small fire.

Blackburn grinned wickedly when informed of Gary Warden’s refusal to keep Lefingwell’s agreement.

“Didn’t I hit him right,” he sneered.  “I aim to be able to tell a coyote first pop, whether he’s sneakin’ in the sagebrush or settin’ in a office.  They ain’t no difference.  No cars, eh?  Bah!  If you say the word, me an’ the boys’ll hit the breeze to town an’ run Warden and Simmons out!

“You’re wastin’ your time, goin’ to see Morgan Hatfield, the commissioner.  Don’t I know him?  He tin-horned over at Laskar for two or three years before he got into politics; an’ now he’s tin-hornin’ the cattle owners of the state.  He’ll grin that chessie-cat grin of his an’ tell you he can’t do nothin’.  An’ he’ll do it!  Bah!  This country is goin’ plumb to hell.  Any country will, when there’s too much law hangin’ around loose!”

He scowled and looked hard at Lawler.  “We’ll hold ’em at Willets, all right an’ regular, until you give us the word to hit the Tom Long trail.  But while you’re gone I’m gettin’ ready to travel—­for there won’t be any cars, Lawler, an’ don’t you forget it!”