The Trail Horde | Page 3

he seemed to "know his business."
This information had reached Lawler's ears through the medium of
neighboring cattle owners, and he was willing to accept it as accurate,
though he was not prepared to form an estimate of Warden until he had
an opportunity to talk with him personally.
"Well," went on Blackburn; "them that's looked him over don't hesitate
to say he don't measure up to Jim Lefingwell's size."
"Jim was a mighty big man--in size and principles," said Lawler.
"Now you're shoutin'! There wasn't no man bigger'n Jim, sideways,
edgeways, or up an' down. I reckon any man would have a hard time
measurin' up to Jim Lefingwell. Mebbe that's what's wrong with
Warden. Folks has got Jim Lefingwell on their minds, an' they're not
givin' Warden what's comin' to him, them bein' biased." He squinted at
Lawler. "Folks is hintin' that Warden don't own Jim Lefingwell's ranch
a-tall; that some eastern guys bought it, an' that Warden's just managin'
it. Seems like they's a woman at the Lefingwell's old place, keepin'
Warden company. She's eastern, too, they say. Got a old maid with her
to keep her company--a chapper-own, they say--which ain't in no ways
illuminatin' my think-tank none. Which is a chapper-own?"

"A kind of a moral monitor, Blackburn," grinned Lawler. "Some folks
need them. If you're thinking of getting one----"
"Bah!" Blackburn's eyes were vitriolic with disgust. "I sabe what you
are hintin' at when you gas of morals--which I'm a heap acquainted
with because I ain't got none to speak of. But I'm plumb flabbergasted
when you go to connectin' a battleship with anything that's got a whole
lot to do with morals. Accordin' to my schoolin', a monitor is a thing
which blows the stuffin' out of----"
"A monitor of morals could do that," gravely said Lawler. "In fact,
according to the best authorities, there have been many monitors who
have blown the stuffing out of the reputations of their charges."
Blackburn gulped. He was puzzled, and his eyes were glazed with the
incomprehension which had seized him. Twice again as he watched
Lawler's grave face he gulped. And then he eyed Lawler belligerently.
"I reckon them monitors is eastern. I've never seen one galivantin'
around these parts."
"They're a lot eastern," assented Lawler. "I've never seen one, but I've
read about them in books. And once my mother saw one--she tells me
the East raises them by the hundred."
"That accounts for it," declared Blackburn; "anything which comes
from the East is likely to be a heap shy on hoss sense."
He now squinted at Lawler, watching him keenly.
"Accordin' to report Joe Hamlin ought to go around draggin' one of
them monitors."
Blackburn shrewdly noted the quickening of Lawler's eyes, and the dull
red that stole into his face.
"What do you mean, Blackburn?"
"Davies an' Harris hit town ag'in last night; an' comin' back they run

plumb into Joe Hamlin. He was in the upper end of the box arroyo.
He'd roped an' hog-tied a Circle L cow an' was blottin' our brand out."
"What happened?" Lawler's lips were set in grim lines.
"Nothin'--followin' your orders regardin' the cuss. Davies an' Harris let
him go--after warnin' him. Somethin' ought to be done. It ain't addin' a
heap to the morals of the outfit for the men to know a man can rustle
cattle that promiscuous--an' the boss not battin' an eyewinker. This is
the fourth time he's been caught with the goods--to say nothin' of the
times he's done it without nobody gittin' wise--an' the boys is beginnin'
to ask questions, bein' a heap puzzled because somethin' don't happen
to Joe."
Lawler's face was expressionless. Except for the flush in his cheeks he
seemed to be unaffected by Blackburn's words. His voice was a trifle
cold when he spoke:
"I'll attend to Hamlin. I'll stop at the Two Bar on my way to Willets. By
the time you reach town with the cattle I'll have the deal with Warden
clinched."
Blackburn nodded, and Lawler wheeled the bay, heading him
northward.
As he rode, Lawler's face changed expression. He frowned, and his lips
set stiffly.
What he had been almost on the point of telling his mother was that he
knew why Ruth Hamlin had refused him. It was pride, nothing less.
Lawler suspected that Ruth knew her father was a rustler. In fact, there
had been times when he had seen that knowledge lying naked in her
eyes when she looked at her parent. Accusation and disgust had been
there, but mingling with them was the persistent loyalty that had always
governed the girl; the protective instinct, and a hope of reformation.
The pride that Mrs. Lawler had exhibited was not less strong in the
girl's heart. By various signs Lawler knew