an who had ridden away to return with the
news that Lawler and the sheriff were riding northward--were draped on
chairs watching the outlaw chief. They were expectant, eager; there was
covert satisfaction in their eyes.

Like Selden, the other man wore two guns. There was about both men an
atmosphere that suggested stealth and violence. It lurked over them,
hinting of something sinister and deadly.

Selden wore a mustache that drooped at the corners of his mouth. It was
the color of old straw--a faded, washed-out blonde, darkened here and
there from tobacco stains. His mouth was large, the lower lip sagging in
the center, giving it a satiric appearance, increased by the bleared,
narrowed eyes that always seemed to be glowing with a questioning,
leering light.

Krell, the other man, was smooth of face, with a strong, bold, thrusting
jaw and thick, pouting lips. His eyes were big, but they had a
disquieting habit of incessant watchfulness--a crafty alertness, as
though their owner was suspicious of the motives of those at whom he
looked.

Selden and Krell had been recruited from the southern border, they
represented an element that the ranger service was slowly and surely
eliminating--and driving northward into states whose laws were less
stringent for the evil-doer--the professional gunmen who took life for
the malicious thrill it gave them.

Krell and Selden were "killers." They were Antrim's constant companions,
except when the necessities of his trade drove the outlaw to work alone.
They knew his whims and understood his methods.

Now, as Antrim paused near the table and looked at them, Krell smiled
evilly.

"I reckon we'll be settin' here twirlin' our thumbs till the outfit gits
back?" he suggested.

Antrim laughed.

"We're trailin' the outfit right now," he told the other.

Antrim extinguished the light, and the three went out and mounted their
horses. Their movements were deliberate, unhurried. They crossed the
river, gaining the plains above it, and rode at a slow lope in the
direction taken by the others who had preceded them.

They talked as they rode, lowly, earnestly--planning the night's work,
speculating upon the probable outcome of the raid upon the Circle L by
the men under Slade.

When they reached the edge of the big valley and concealed themselves in
the fringing brush, they saw that Slade and his men had already struck.
Streaks of flame were splitting the darkness in the basin; there we