mind all along; and that he would be safe so long as he kept his hands
away from his guns.

As he snarled his questions at Lawler he took a step toward him. His
eyes were truculent again, his lips in the pout that had been on them
when he had entered. If Lawler didn't go for his gun he need have no
fear of him. For he was bigger than Lawler, stronger. And if he could
goad Lawler into using his fists instead of the dreaded gun he had no
doubt of the outcome.

"Singleton," replied Lawler, answering the questions that had been
hurled at him; "what I am here for is my business. I don't feel a heap
like explaining it."

"Business--bah!" sneered Singleton. "I reckon the business that brought
you here could be carried on better with no kids around."

Singleton saw a pin point of fire glow in Lawler's eyes. But he noted
with venomous satisfaction that Lawler's hand did not move upward the
slightest fraction of an inch toward his gun, and he laughed
discordantly, taking another step toward Lawler, so that he would be
close enough to strike when the time came.

"Lawler," he said, sticking his face close to the other's, his eyes
glittering with the malignant triumph that had seized him over the
conviction that Lawler would not try to draw his gun; "I'm figgerin' on
wallopin' you like you walloped my kid. Understand? I'm aimin' to make
you fight--with your fists. I'm goin' to knock hell out of you!".

Lawler had not moved. Had Singleton not been so obsessed with thoughts