ce was gentle. In it was still a trace of that quality that
Ruth had sensed, softened now slightly by the knowledge that Singleton's
rage had slightly cooled.

"There isn't a heap to be said, I reckon," Lawler resumed as Singleton
stood rigid again. "Your boy was trying to 'wallop' his teacher. I
happened to look in, and I had to take a hand in it, just to keep things
even. He had it coming to him, Singleton."

Lawler's manner was conciliatory, even mildly placative. "I figured on
saving you a job, Singleton."

Singleton's face reddened.

"Lawler, I figger to lick my own kid."

"Singleton, I reckon it can't be undone, and you'll have to make the
best of it. You and I have never got along well, but I want you to know
I didn't know it was your boy I punished."

"Hell's fire!" snarled Singleton; "what you interferin' in the
schoolhouse for? What business you got buttin' in?" It was dear that
Singleton's rage was again rising. He must have noticed that the pupils
had crowded around the door, and that Jimmy was watching him, no doubt
disappointed that the salutary punishment for which he had hoped had
been unnecessarily delayed.

Undoubtedly the presence of the children contributed to Singleton's
anger; but at bottom was his old dislike of Lawler--a dislike that the
incident of the whipping had increased to hatred.

It was plain that Singleton meditated violence. Yet it was equally plain
that he feared Lawler. He never had seen Lawler draw a gun, but he had
heard tales of the man's ability with the weapon. There lingered in his
mind at this minute--as it had dwelt during all the days he had known
Lawler--the knowledge that Lawler's father had been a gunman of wide
reputation, and that he had taught his son the precision and swiftness
that had made him famous in the deadly art.

That knowledge had always exerted a deterring influence upon Singleton;
there had been times when he would have drawn a gun on Lawler had it not
been that he feared the son might be as swift as the father.

So Singleton had assured himself; he was not afraid of Lawler, he was
afraid of the reputation of Lawler's father. Singleton was reluctant to
admit that it was not Lawler's gun that he was afraid of, but something
that was in the man himself--in his confident manner, in the level
glance of his eyes; in the way he looked at Singleton--seeming to hint
that he knew the man's thoughts, and that when the time came--if it ever
came--he would