"Get up, Warden," came Lawler's voice, low and vibrant. "You'll
understand what I'm going to say a whole lot better if you're on your
feet, like a man."
Warden got up, defiantly, and for an instant the two men stood looking
into each other's eyes, both understanding the enmity that was between
them, and both seemingly exulting in it.
"I'm thanking you, Warden, for telling me. But I've known, since I
talked with Simmons about the cars, just what it all meant. My talks
with Hatfield and Governor Haughton convinced me beyond all reasonable
doubt. I'm the man they are after, of course. But incidentally, they're
going to mulct every other cattle owner in the state. It's a mighty big
scheme--a stupendous robbery. The man who conceived it should have been
a pirate--he has all the instincts of one.
"But get this straight. You've got to fight me. Understand? You'll drag
no woman into it. You went to the Hamlin ranch the other day. God's
grace and a woman's mercy permitted you to get away, alive. Don't let it
happen again. Just as sure as you molest a woman in this section, just
so sure will I kill you no matter who your friends are! Do you
understand that, Warden?"
Warden did not move a muscle. He tried to look steadily into Lawler's
eyes, found that he could not endure the terrible intensity of them--and
drooped his own, cursing himself for the surrender.
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