se to him that he might have touched
his shoulder.

Warden was sitting at his desk when Lawler opened the door, and he
continued to sit there--staring hard at Lawler as the latter swayed
across the room to bring up with a lurch against Warden's desk, his
hands grasping its edge.

"Warden," said Lawler--and Shorty marveled at the cold steadiness of his
voice; "I have just killed Antrim. Antrim's men ran off three thousand
head of my cattle and killed about twenty of my men--five at the Circle
L and the rest in a fight on the plains not far from the Two Bar. Antrim
burned my buildings. Twenty-five thousand dollars for the buildings, and
ninety thousand for the cattle not to mention my men.

"I've got no proof that you were implicated in the deal; but I am
convinced that you planned it--that you got Antrim and his gang to do
the work. That evidence doesn't go in law, though, Warden--and you know
it. But it's enough for the kind of law that I am representing right
now. It's this!"

He drew his gun with his left hand, taking it from the waistband of his
trousers--where he had placed it when he had picked it up at the Dickman
cabin--and held it on the desk top, so that its dark muzzle gaped at
Warden.

For an instant Warden sat, staring in dread fascination into the muzzle
of the weapon, his face dead white, his eyes wide with fear, naked,
cringing. Then he spoke, his voice hoarse and quavering.

"This is murder, Lawler!"

"Murder, Warden?" jeered Lawler. "One of my men was worth a dozen of
you!"

Lawler laughed--a sound that brought an ashen pallor to Warden's face;
then he straightened, and turned, to face Shorty.

He lurched to Shorty's side, drew out one of the latter's big guns, and
tossed it upon the desk within reach of Warden's hand.

"I gave Antrim the first shot, Warden," he said; "I gave him his chance.
I didn't murder him, and I won't murder you. Take that gun and follow me
to the street. There's people there. They'll see that it's a square
deal. You're a sneaking polecat, Warden; but you--I'm going to give
you----"

Lawler paused; he sagged. He tried to straighten, failed. And while both
men watched him--Shorty with eyes that were terrible in their ineffable
sympathy and impotent wrath; Warden in a paralysis of cold
terror--Lawler lurched heavily against the desk and slid gently to the
floor, where he leaned, his eyes closed, against the desk, motionless,
unconscious.

Silently, his eyes aflame w