Lawler smiled with grim amusement as he walked toward the Willets Hotel—­where he meant to stay overnight.  For he was convinced that the car shortage could not exist if the state officials—­especially the railroad commissioner—­would exert authority to end it.  It seemed to Lawler that there must exist a secret understanding between the railroad commissioner and the invisible power represented by Gary Warden.  And he wondered at the temerity of the governor—­the sheer, brazen disregard for the public welfare that permitted him to become leagued with the invisible power in an effort to rob the cattle owners of the state.  He must certainly know that he had been elected by the cattle owners—­that their votes and the votes of their employees had made it possible for him to gain the office he had sought.

But perhaps—­and Lawler’s lips curved with bitterness—­the governor wanted only one term.  For two years of complete and absolute control of the cattle industry of the state would make him wealthy enough to hold public opinion in contempt.

From a window of his office Gary Warden had watched Lawler go into the station building.  And from the same window Warden saw Lawler emerge.  He watched Lawler, noting the gravity of his face, exulting, smiling mockingly.  Warden also noted the little drama of the fluttering handkerchief, and the smile went out and a black, jealous rage seized him.

However, Gary Warden and Jay Simmons were not the only persons in town who watched Lawler.  When he had entered town the school children who had preceded him had watched him from in front of the Wolf; and half a dozen lean-faced, rugged, and prosperous-looking men had watched him from the lounging-room of the Willets Hotel.

The men in the lounging-room were watching Lawler now, as he walked toward the building, for they seemed to divine that he would enter.

When Lawler stepped over the threshold his lips were set in stern, serious lines and his brows were drawn together in a frown.  For his thoughts were dwelling upon the sinister power that threatened to create confusion in the section.

He did not see the men in the lounging-room until he had taken several steps toward the desk; and then he glanced carelessly toward them.  Instantly his eyes glowed with recognition; he walked toward them.

“Howdy, Lawler,” greeted one, extending a hand.  And, “howdy,” was the word that passed the lips of the others as Lawler shook hands with them.  He called them all by name; but it was to the first man that he spoke, after the amenities had been concluded.

“I heard you were in town, Caldwell,” he said.

Caldwell—­a big man with a black beard, probing, intelligent eyes, and an aggressive chin, grinned grimly.

“Gary Warden tell you?” he asked.

“No.  Warden didn’t mention you.”

“Then it was Jay Simmons.  You ain’t been anywhere else.”

“How do you know?”