Lawler's voice, the cold flame in his eyes and his icy deliberation,
told Ruth of a thing that, plainly, Warden had already seen--that though
both men would begin the ride to "town," only Lawler would reach there.

Ruth watched, fascinated, her senses dulled by what she saw in Lawler's
manner and in the ghastly white of Warden's face. Warden understood. He
understood, and his breath was labored, his flesh palsied--and still he
was going to obey. For Ruth saw him move; saw him sway toward the door;
saw Lawler watching him as though he was fighting to hold his passions
in check, fighting back a lust to kill the man where he stood.

Warden had reached the door; he was crossing the threshold--his head
bowed, his shoulders sagging, his legs bending at the knees--when Ruth
moved. She ran around the table and got between Lawler and Warden,
stretching her arms in the open doorway, barring Lawler's way. Her eyes
were wild with terror.

"Don't, Kane!" she begged; "don't do that! Oh, I know what you mean to
do. Please, Kane; let him go--alone. He didn't do--what--what--" She
paused, shuddering.

Lawler's eyes softened as he looked at her; he smiled faintly, and she
knew she had won. She did not resist when he drew her gently away from
the door. Standing just inside, she saw him go out to where Warden
stood, pale and shaking, looking at both of them. Then she heard
Lawler's voice as he spoke to Warden:

"Warden, I'm letting you off. Miss Ruth is going to teach school where
she's been teaching it. The schoolhouse is your deadline--the same as
this cabin. Whenever you step into one or the other, your friends are