each other, and Lawler, all caught the voice of
the storm, raging, furious, incessant.

With his free hand Lawler unbuttoned his coat, tossed his cap into a
bunk and ran a hand through his hair, shoving it back from his forehead.
His movements were deliberate. It was as though catching fence cutters
was an everyday occurrence.

Yet something in his eyes--the thing the two men had seen--gave the lie
to the atmosphere of deliberate ease that radiated from him. In his eyes
was something that warned, that hinted of passion.

As the men watched him, noting his muscular neck and shoulders; the slim
waist of him, the set of his head--which had that hint of conscious
strength, mental and physical, which marks the intelligent fighter--they
shrank a little, glowering sullenly.

Lawler stood close to the door, the pistol dangling from his right hand.
He had hooked the thumb of the left hand into his cartridge belt, and
his eyes were gleaming with feline humor.

"There's a heap to be told," he said. "I'm listening."

A silence followed his words. Both men moistened their lips; neither
spoke.

"Get going!" commanded Lawler.

"We was headin' south," said the small man. "We cut the fence to git
through."

Lawler's eyelids flickered slightly. The heavy pistol swung upward until
the dark tube gaped somberly into the small man's eyes.

"I've got loads of time, but I don't feel like wasting it," said Lawler.
"You've got one minute to come clean. Keep your traps shut for that time
and I bore you--both--and chuck you outside!"

His smile might have misled some men, but the small man had correctly
valued Lawler.

"Gary Warden hired us to cut the fence."

The man's voice was a placative whine. His furtive eyes swept Lawler's
face for signs of emotion.

There were no signs. Lawler's face might have been an expressionless
mask. Not a muscle of his body moved. The offense was a monstrous one in
the ethics of the country, and the fence cutter had a right to expect
Lawler to exhibit passion of some kind.

"Gary Warden, eh?" Lawler laughed quietly. "If you're lying----"

The man protested that he was telling the truth.

At this point the tall man sneered.

"Hell," he said; "quit your damn blabbin'!"

"Yes," grinned Lawler, speaking to the small man. "You're quitting your
talk. From now on your friend is going to do it. I'm asking questions a
heap rapid, and the answers are going to jump right onto the tails of
the questions