Long before dawn the big herd was on the move, heading northward, toward Willets, the twenty men of the outfit flanking them, heading them up the great slope that led out of the valley.

The progress of the herd was slow, for there was good grazing and the cattle moved reluctantly, requiring the continued efforts of the men to keep them moving at all.  And yet when darkness came that night they had reached the Rabbit Ear—­where two nights before Blackburn had held the first herd.

It was late in the afternoon of the second day when Lawler and his men came within sight of Willets.  They drove the second herd to where Blackburn and his men were holding the first.  Leaving Blackburn to make arrangements for camp, Lawler rode on into Willets.  From a distance he saw that the company corral was well filled with cattle; and when he saw Lem Caldwell talking with some other men in front of the hotel, he knew the cattle in the corral bore Caldwell’s brand.

He waved a hand to Caldwell and the others as he rode past the hotel; but he kept on until he reached the station, where he dismounted, hitched Red King to a rail and crossed the railroad track.

A frame building, small, with a flat shedlike roof, stood near the corral fence—­between the tracks and the big gates—­and Lawler entered the open door, to find a portly, bald-headed man sitting at a rough, flat-top desk.  The man was busy with a pencil and a pad of papers when Lawler entered, and he continued to labor with them, not seeming to notice his visitor.

Lawler halted just inside the door, to await the man’s leisure.  And then he saw Gary Warden lounging in a chair in a far corner.  Warden did not appear to see Lawler, either; he was facing the back of the chair, straddling it, his elbows crossed on the back, his chin resting on his arms, his gaze on the rough board floor.

Lawler noted, his lips straightening a little, that in the movements of the man at the desk was a deliberation that was almost extravagant.  The man was writing, and the pencil in his hand seemed to lag.  He studied long over what he wrote, pursing his lips and scratching his head.  But not once did he look up at Lawler.

“Wrestling with a mighty problem, Jordan?” finally asked Lawler, his patience strained, his voice in a slow drawl.

The bald man started and glanced up.  Instantly, he reddened and looked down again, leaving Lawler to wonder how it was that every official with whom he had conversed within the past few days had exhibited embarrassment.

“Excuse me, Lawler,” said Jordan; “I didn’t know you was here.  I’ll be with you in a second—­just as soon as I check up this tally.  Caldwell drove in here not more’n two hours ago, an’ I ain’t got his tally straightened up yet.”

Lawler turned his back to Warden and gazed out through the open doorway.  On the siding was a long string of empty box cars, plainly awaiting Caldwell’s cattle.