sight of the buckboard. It seemed to him that the young woman must have
been watching him, before he became aware of the buckboard, for there
was a smile on her face as she looked at him; and when she seemed sure
that he was looking she gayly waved a white handkerchief.

Lawler did not answer the signal. He looked around, thinking that
perhaps the woman might have waved the handkerchief at some friend she
had just left, and when he turned she had her back to him.

Lawler was conscious of a pulse of amusement over the woman's action,
though he experienced no fatuous thrill. The woman was frivolous, and
had made no appeal to his imagination.

Besides, Lawler was in no mood for frivolous thought. He was having his
first experience with the invisible and subtle power that ruled the
commerce of the nation, and his thoughts were serious--almost vicious.

Somewhere a mighty hand had halted activity in the Wolf River section; a
power, stealthy, sinister, had interfered with the business in which he
was vitally interested, interrupting it, disturbing it.

Lawler had kept himself well informed. In the big library at the Circle
L were various volumes relating to economics that had been well thumbed
by him. He had been privately educated, by his mother. And among the
books that lined the shelves of the library were the philosophers,
ancient and modern; the masters of art, science, and letters, and a
miscellany of authorities on kindred subjects.

When his father had insisted that he be educated he had studied the
political history of his state; he had kept a serious eye upon the