ok through your herd. We've been missin' cattle all summer--from my
ranch, the Circle Bar. About three thousand head. We've traced 'em as
far as Kinney's canon, an' lost 'em. But we've been thinkin', Blackburn,
that it ain't no hard job to make a passable Circle L out of a Circle
Bar. That's why we aim to look your cattle over."

He grinned slightly at Blackburn's scowl, aware of the impotent rage the
latter felt over the worst insult that could be offered an honest
cattleman. For an instant he watched Blackburn keenly, his lips
sneering; and then when he saw that Blackburn had mastered his rage, he
said, sharply:

"Who was that guy that rode away as we come up?"

"Lawler," said Blackburn. "He's figurin' on seein' you alone, looks
like. He left word that when you come I was to tell you he wanted to see
you."

The outlaw's eyes glowed with swift suspicion.

"He knowed me, eh?" he said. He glanced keenly over the level floor of
the desert. Dimly, in the dusk, he could see Lawler riding near the
herd. For an instant Antrim hesitated, plainly debating the wisdom of
leaving his men; then he smiled with whimsical recklessness. And his
movements became rapid, jerky.

"Slade," he said, addressing a rider near him; "you're runnin' things
till I get back."

He wheeled his horse and sent him into the dusk toward the herd, riding
cautiously, evidently not entirely convinced of the peaceableness of
Lawler's intentions.

He rode a quarter of a mile before he came upon Lawler; and though the
light was fading he could plainly see Lawler's face, set,
expressionless.

The outlaw brought his horse to a halt within three or four paces of Red
King. Antrim's manner exuded the insolent tolerance of the master, who
has the confidence that comes from thoughts of an overwhelming
advantage.

He knew Lawler; knew him as perhaps no other man in the section knew
him. For he had seen Lawler using his gun. It had been some years
before, when Lawler had been proving himself--proving that he had a
right to the respect and consideration of his fellow-men; proving that
no man could trifle with him.

Antrim had been a witness to the shooting. He had marked Lawler's
coolness, the evenness of his temper; and had noted the deadly swiftness
and precision of his movements when he had drawn his pistol. Lawler had
not been the aggressor--a dozen other men had testified to that.

Antrim had not seen Lawler since, until now. And as he looked at him