eh--tellin' me that you didn't see Davies an' Harris. Well, damn your
hide you ain't goin' to take me; I'll blow you to hell first!"

Lawler's eyes were steady and unblinking as he watched Hamlin; they
bored into Hamlin's with a compelling intensity, that brought a
conviction of futility into Hamlin's soul. They were cold eyes--cold as
icebergs, Hamlin thought as he watched them; but they seemed to flame
also, to flame with a fire that was cold as the ice in them.

The terrible power of them, and the promise of volcanic action back in
them; the awful confidence that shone in them; the threat compelling
Hamlin against his will, deadening his muscles, jumbling his
thoughts--brought chaos into the man's brain, and he stood, his mouth
agape with wonder over the thing that was happening to him, as Lawler
walked steadily to him. He made no resistance as Lawler deliberately
wrenched the pistol from his hand and as deliberately walked to a side
wall and placed it upon a shelf.

Hamlin stood, nerveless and pallid, for an instant, watching Lawler's
movements--until Lawler turned and faced him again. Then he staggered to
a chair and dropped into it, lowering his head dejectedly, sitting with
his hands folded, completely subjected.

Lawler would hang him, now. Lawler would take him to the Circle L and
turn him over to Blackburn and the other men of the outfit. And
Blackburn would hang him, for Blackburn had told him he would. Or, if
Lawler didn't take him to Blackburn he would take him to the sheriff. He
would be hanged then, but he would go to the new prison at the capital,
and Ruth would have to stay on here to do the real suffering for his
misdeeds.