raveling as strongly as
when he began his long race. The miles that had stretched between him
and the destination at which his rider aimed had been mere play for him.
By the time he reached the river trail he was warmed to his work and his
giant, spurning stride carried him along in the shade of the fringing
trees at a speed that made the wind whine and moan in Lawler's ears.

But Lawler did not offer to check Red King's speed. The big horse was
traveling at a pace that was all too slow for Lawler, now in the clutch
of that passion which for many months had been smoldering within him. He
was leaning a little forward in the saddle, riding the red horse as he
had ridden few times; and then only in sport.

In Lawler's eyes was still that intense light that had been in them when
he had been watching Shorty as the latter had been relating what had
happened during the night and the morning.

And yet Lawler betrayed no sign of excitement. His face was pale, and
his lips were stiff and white; but his muscles were tense, steady, and
his brain clear.

He knew what to expect from Antrim. If Antrim expected him to come to
his cabin, Antrim would be ready for him. He might expect craft and
cunning from the outlaw--an ambuscade, a trap--anything but the cold,
sheer courage that would be required for him to face an enemy upon equal
terms. And so as Lawler rode he kept an alert eye upon the coverts and
the shelters, upon the huge rocks that littered the sides of the trail,
upon the big trees that Red King flashed past.

Nothing happened. And Red King thundered down the trail where it doubled
half a mile from the Dickman cabin, and swept out upon the level that
surrounded the place, his speed unslackened, his rider still urging him.

Lawler had forgotten Shorty. Half a mile behind him the giant's horse
labored, making better time on the level river trail than he had made
over the plains. But Lawler did not even think of Shorty. His brain was
upon the work that was before him, his thoughts were definitely centered
upon Antrim and the Circle L men that Antrim and his men had killed. It
was concentration of a sinister character that had seized Lawler, and in
it was a single purpose, a single determination--to kill Antrim.

He saw the cabin as he crossed the level--a patch of bare, sandy earth
surrounding it; and the other buildings, with no sign of life near them.
His gaze swept the corral, and he saw no horse in it. As he guided Red