Lawler’s pity for the man was stronger than the resentment he felt.  Hamlin was Ruth’s father, though looking at him as he sat dejectedly in the chair, Lawler found it hard to discern the relationship.

“How long has Singleton been buying cattle from you?”

“About a year.  I sold him what stock I had, before—­before I got to runnin’ my brand on other folks’ stock, an’ he hinted he wasn’t particular whose cattle I got, long as he could get ’em under the market price.”

“Does Singleton come here?”

“Sometimes—­mostly nights.”

Lawler’s quick conclusion was that Ruth must have seen Singleton at the cabin, must have noted that the visits seemed surreptitious.  Perhaps she had watched, convincing herself of her father’s guilt.  Lawler had wondered how she had gained the knowledge she seemed to have, and Singleton’s visits must be the explanation.

Hamlin had bowed his head again after a swift glance at Lawler.  He stiffened when he felt Lawler at his side again, for there had come into the atmosphere of the cabin a premonitory chill which warned him that Lawler was on the verge of action.

But he was not prepared for what happened.

Lawler’s sinewy hands fell on his shoulders.  The fingers bit deeply into the flesh, drawing a groan of pain from Hamlin.  He was lifted to his feet—­off his feet, so that he dangled in the air like a pendulum.  He was suspended by the shoulders, Lawler’s fingers gripping him like iron hooks; he was shaken until his feet, powerless to retard the movement, were flopping back and forth wildly, and his teeth rattled despite his efforts to clench them.  It seemed to him that Lawler would snap his head from his shoulders, so viciously did Lawler shake him.  Then suddenly the terrible fingers relaxed, and Hamlin reeled and swayed, dizzy and weak from the violence of movement.  He was trying to keep his feet solidly on the floor when he felt Lawler’s fingers at his throat.

To his astonishment, the fingers did not sink into the flesh.  They touched his throat lightly, and he dazedly met Lawler’s eyes, burning, with a passion he never had seen in them before.  And Lawler’s voice was dry and light, but steady—­so steady and cold that Hamlin realized that only the man’s complete mastery of himself had kept him from committing murder.

“Hamlin, I ought to kill you.  I’m letting you off on one condition—­that you break off with Singleton, and that you keep silent about the things we both know.  If you confess to Ruth that you’ve been rustling cattle, or if you tell her—­or hint of it—­that I know you’ve been rustling—­I’ll tear you apart!

“You’re like a lot of other damned, weak-kneed polecats.  You’ve got a girl who is good as gold, and you’re making a regular hell for her.  She’s wise to what you’ve been doing—­she suspects you.  And from now on you’re going to show her that she was wrong—­that you’re straight and square.