ction. Them men turned their cattle into the grass around there, an'
put a night guard over them. They emptied their wagons and toted the
stuff into the house. They fixed up the corral fence an' turned their
horses into it. They brought lamps an' stoves for the bunkhouse an' the
cabin--an' bunk stuff an' tables an' such. They're figurin' to stay
there. An', Lawler--they're _Blondy Antrim an' his gang of
cutthroats_!"

CHAPTER XXVII

EVIDENCE

When Gary Warden stepped off the east-bound train at Willets one evening
in April--to be met by Singleton, who had been apprised of the day of
his coming and who had been in town for two days waiting--there was an
expectant smile on his face.

A change seemed to have come over the town. The winter lethargy had been
shaken off and Willets was a throb with life and activity. There was a
warm wind blowing, bearing the breath of the new sage; doors were open;
many horses were hitched to the rails that fringed the walk in front of
saloons and stores; and there was over it all an atmosphere that seemed
to be vital, electric.

Warden drew Singleton over to a corner of the station platform, from
where, between two buildings, they had a clear, unobstructed view of the
street.

"Della Wharton didn't come?" asked Singleton.

"No," laughed Warden; "she stayed over for a reception at the governor's
mansion, tonight. She'll be here tomorrow." He leaned close to
Singleton, whispering:

"Are Blondy and his men settled?"

"Settled!" Singleton laughed deeply. "You might call it that. Blondy an'
his gang are runnin' this man's town, right now! They've got Moreton
scared, looks like! He's layin' mighty low, an' keepin' his trap shut.
Blondy's got a mighty tough gang--a bunch of hoppin', howlin'
tarantulas, straight from hell! Blondy's still raw from that deal Lawler
handed him when he brought him here an' dumped him down on the platform,
tellin' you Blondy was his 'vent.' Blondy swears he'll kill Lawler for
that, an' I'm bankin' that he makes a strong play for a killin'. There's
red in Blondy's eyes when he talks about Lawler!"

Warden smiled evilly. "That's Lawler's lookout," he said, venomously;
"he ought to be man enough to take care of himself. Let's take a look
around."

With Singleton beside him, Warden visited half a dozen saloons and dance
halls; smiling as he noted the bepistoled cowboys who were swaggering in
and out of doorways and on the sidewalk--strangers to him, b