feel mighty free, now, to sell where I can get the market price."

"Twenty-five is the market price," said Warden. "Just before the
round-up there was some nervousness, it is true; and some buyers were
offering forty--and they contracted for some at that price. But that was
before we made--" He hesitated, reddened, and then went on quickly,
plainly embarrassed, endeavoring to conceal his embarrassment by
lighting a cigar.

"It was before the market broke," he went on. "The market is glutted.
The West raised more cattle this season than ever before. There is no
demand and the price had to tumble. A good many cattle owners will be
glad to take twenty, and even fifteen, before long."

"But if there are no cars?" smiled Lawler.

Again he saw Warden's face redden.

"A shortage of cars would mean a shortage of cattle in the East, I
reckon," went on Lawler. "And a shortage of cattle would mean higher
prices for those that got through. But I'm not arguing--nor am I
accepting twenty-five for my cattle. I reckon I'll have to ship my stock
East."

"Well, I wish you luck," said Warden.

He turned his back to Lawler, bending over his desk.

Something in his voice--a hint of mockery tempered with rage--brought
Lawler to a pause as he crossed the threshold of the doorway. He turned