Lawler had not suspected Singleton. Between himself and Singleton there
had always been a lack of ordinary cordiality, a constraint closely
approaching dislike; but Lawler had never entertained a suspicion that
Lefingwell's range boss was dishonest.

Hamlin was a moral weakling, he knew. Everybody in the Wolf River
section knew it. Hamlin was lazy and shiftless, seemingly contented to
drift along in an aimless way, regardless of what happened to him. There
was at Hamlin's feet some of the wealth that other cattlemen of the
district were gaining. He had proved on a quarter-section of good grass
land amid plenty of water, and yet he chose to steal cattle rather than
raise them.

Lawler's pity for the man was stronger than the resentment he felt.
Hamlin was Ruth's father, though looking at him as he sat dejectedly in
the chair, Lawler found it hard to discern the relationship.

"How long has Singleton been buying cattle from you?"

"About a year. I sold him what stock I had, before--before I got to
runnin' my brand on other folks' stock, an' he hinted he wasn't
particular whose cattle I got, long as he could get 'em under the market
price."

"Does Singleton come here?"

"Sometimes--mostly nights."

Lawler's quick conclusion was that Ruth must have seen Singleton at the
cabin, must have noted that the visits seemed surreptitious. Perhaps she