As Blackburn had told Shorty, he did not expect to rout or capture the outlaws; the best he could hope for was that Shorty would get help in time to head off the cattle before the other outlaws drove them into Kinney's canon or that he would bring help to the Circle L men in time to prevent the sanguinary fight which would certainly occur as soon as the day dawned. And so Blackburn waited, grimly watchful; though worry began to wrinkle his face as he noted that the semi-gloom of the starlit night was lifting, and that a gray streak on the eastern horizon was slowly broadening. CHAPTER XXIX ANTRIM STRIKES From the doorway of the cabin on the Rabbit Ear, Antrim had watched Slade and his men ride away. His gaze followed them until they vanished over the edge of the big plain above the river valley. Then, smiling crookedly, he turned back into the cabin. Two men--one of them the tall man who had ridden away to return with the news that Lawler and the sheriff were riding northward--were draped on chairs watching the outlaw chief. They were expectant, eager; there was covert satisfaction in their eyes. Like Selden, the other man wore two guns. There was about both men an atmosphere that suggested stealth and violence. It lurked over them, hinting of something sinister and deadly. Selden wore a mustache that drooped at the corners of his mouth. It was the color of old straw--a faded, washed-out blonde, darkened here and there from tobacco stains. His mouth was large, the lower lip sagging in the center, giving it a satiric appearance, increased by the bleared, narrowed eyes that always seemed to be glowing with a questioning, leering light. Krell, the other man, was smooth of face, with a strong, bold, thrusting jaw and thick, pouting lips. His eyes were big, but they had a disquieting habit of incessant watchfulness--a crafty alertness, as though their owner was suspicious of the motives of those at whom he looked. Selden and Krell had been recruited from the southern border, they represented an element that the ranger service was slowly and surely eliminating--and driving northward into states whose laws were less stringent for the evil-doer--the professional gunmen who took life for the malicious thrill it gave them. Krell and Selden were "killers." They were Antrim's constant companions, except when the necessities of his trade drove the outlaw to work alone. They knew his whims and understood his methods. Now, as Antrim paused near the table and looked at them, Krell smiled evilly. "I reckon we'll be settin' here twirlin' our thumbs till the outfit gits back?" he suggested. Antrim laughed. "We're trailin' the outfit right now," he told the other. Antrim extinguished the light, and the three went out and mounted their horses. Their movements were deliberate, unhurried. They crossed the river, gaining the plains above it, and rode at a slow lope in the direction taken by the others who had preceded them.