On the
second day of Lawler's unconsciousness a keen-eyed man stepped off the
east-bound train and made his way to the hotel.
"I'm Metcalf of the _News_, in the capital," he told Keller, the
proprietor. And Keller quietly ushered the newspaperman upstairs, where
the latter stood for a long time until Mrs. Lawler opened the door of
the sickroom for him. Metcalf entered, looked down at Lawler, and then
drew Shorty aside where, in a whispered conversation he obtained the
particulars of the fight and the wounding of Lawler. He took the
west-bound train that night.
A pall seemed to have settled over Willets. The atmosphere was tense,
strained. Riders from Caldwell's ranch, from Sigmund's, from
Lester's--and from other ranches came in; and important-looking men from
various sections of the state alighted from the trains at the station
and lingered long in the dingy foyer of the hotel. One of these was
recognized by Keller as McGregor, secretary of the State Central
Committee of Lawler's party. And Keller noted that McGregor wore a
worried look and that he scowled continually.
Willets waited; the riders who came into town waited; it seemed to the
residents of Willets that the whole state waited, with its collective
gaze upon the little room in the hotel where a man lay, fighting for his
life.
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