y continued to watch. For many days he stood guard over his
"boss"--a somber, brooding figure, silent, imperturbable. When he moved
it was only to walk slowly up and down the hall, or downstairs to take
his meals. At other times he would stand at the bedside looking down at
Lawler's closed eyes and ashen face; or he would sit on the edge of a
chair and watch him, intently, with stoic calm, his face as
expressionless as a stone image.

Mrs. Lawler came early the next morning--after the doctor had told Della
and Shorty there was a fighting chance for Lawler; and Ruth Hamlin.
Shorty's eyes grew moist as he watched Mrs. Lawler and Ruth as they
stood by the unconscious man; and his voice was low and gruff when,
during the day Mrs. Lawler asked him for particulars.

"That's all there was to it, ma'am," he said in conclusion. "The boss
oughtn't to have busted in that shack like he did, knowin' Antrim was
there--an' givin' the scum a chance to take the first shot at him. But
he done it. An' he done the same thing to Warden--offered him the first
shot. Ma'am, I never heard the beat of it! I've got nerve--as the sayin'
is. But--Lordy!"

And Shorty became silent again.

For three days Lawler remained unconscious. And during that interval
there were no disturbing sounds to agitate the deathlike quiet of the
sickroom. Riders glided into town from various points of the compass and
stepped softly as they moved in the street--whispering or talking in low
tones. The universal topic was the fight, and Lawler's condition. 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 Ke