“We’re asking no favors,” said Lawler.  “We’re driving five thousand, as you suggest.  I’m leaving the selecting of the trail crew to you—­you know your men.”

At dawn the following morning the big herd was divided into about the proportions suggested by Blackburn.  The smaller section, escorted by five disgruntled Circle L cowboys, moved slowly southward, while the main herd headed eastward, flanked at the sides by grim-faced Circle L riders; at the rear by a number of others and by Lawler, Blackburn; the “chuck-wagon” driven by the cook—­a portly, solemn-visaged man of forty with a thin, complaining voice; the “hoodlum” wagon, equipped with bedding and a meager stock of medicines and supplies for emergencies—­driven by a slender, fiercely mustached man jocosely referred to as “Doc;” and a dozen horses of the remuda, in charge of the horse-wrangler and an assistant.

It was the first trail herd that had been started eastward since the coming of the railroad.  To some of the Circle L men it was a novel experience—­for they had begun range work since the railroad had appeared.  There were several others, rugged, hardy range riders of the days when the driving of a trail herd was an annual experience, it was a harking back to the elemental and the crude, with the attendant hardships and ceaseless, trying work.  The younger men were exultant, betraying their exuberance in various ways—­shouting, laughing, singing, gayly bantering one another as they capered beside the cattle; but the older men rode grimly on, grinning tolerantly, knowing that the time would come when the faces of the younger men would grow stern and set from the ceaseless activity, the long night watches, the deadly monotony and the thousand inconveniences of the long drive.

Many of Willets’ men were watching the departure of the herd.  They stood on the street, in doorways; and in some windows were women.  For rumor had been whispering during the past few days, and it was known that Kane Lawler had defied the powerful forces which were attempting to control the mediums of trade in the section; and there were many of the watchers who sent silent applause after the departing herd.  They were aware of the hazards that confronted Lawler and his men—­hazards enough without the additional menace of the invisible power, of which most of the inhabitants of Willets knew nothing.

However, Caldwell knew.  He was standing in the doorway of the Willets Hotel; and his face was drawn and seamed with gravity as he watched.

Gary Warden knew.  For he stood in the street in front of the Wolf, watching, his eyes glowing with malice.

Singleton knew.  He was standing near Warden, in the grip of a malign anticipation.  His lips were bestially pouted.

“Showed yellow at the last minute,” he whispered to Warden; “only drivin’ about half of them.  Well, we’ll take care of them he’s leavin’ before the winter’s over.”