"An' they brought back your cattle; though Slade an' twenty or thirty of his men got away, clean. I reckon you've heard about enough, an'--Well, Lawler, that's about all--exceptin' to tell you how the boys--an' I don't seem to want to go over that when I'm awake; I keep seein' it enough of nights." But something of the deep emotion Blackburn felt was reflected in Lawler's eyes from the time he heard the story. During the many days he had spent in the little hotel room recovering from his wound--and in the long interval of convalescence that followed--a small army of workmen had been engaged in rebuilding the Circle L ranchhouse, the bunkhouses, and the other structures. On the second day following his return to consciousness Lawler had called in a contractor and had made arrangements for reconstruction. A temporary cabin--to be used afterward by Blackburn--had been erected near the site of the bunkhouses, and into this Lawler and his mother moved while the ranchhouse and the other buildings were being rebuilt. Blackburn was slowly engaging men to fill the depleted complement, and the work went on some way, though in it was none of that spirit which had marked the activities of the Circle L men in the old days. In fact, the atmosphere that surrounded the Circle L seemed to be filled with a strange depression. There had come a cold grimness into Blackburn's face, a sullenness had appeared in the eyes of the three men who had survived the fight on the plains; they were moody, irritable, impatient. One of them, a slender, lithe man named Sloan, voiced to Blackburn one day a prediction. "Antrim's dead, all O.K.," he said. "But Slade--who was always a damned sight worse than Antrim--is still a-kickin'. An' Slade ain't the man to let things go halfway. Them boys from the other outfits bested him, all right. But Slade will be back--you'll see. An' when he comes we'll be squarin' things with him--an' don't you forget it!" * * * * * It was after Lawler had been occupying the cabin for a month that Metcalf made his second visit. He rode down the slope of the valley on a horse he had hired at Willets, and came upon Lawler, who was standing at the corral gates, looking across the enclosure at the workmen who were bustling about the ranchhouse. Metcalf regarded Lawler critically before he dismounted; and then he came forward, shook Lawler's hand and again looked him over. "A little thin and peaked; but otherwise all right, eh?" he smiled. "It's hard to kill you denizens of the sagebrush." He followed Lawler into the shade of the cabin, remarked to Mrs. Lawler that her son would need someone to guard him--if he persisted in meeting outlaws of the Antrim type single-handed; and then turned to Lawler--after Mrs. Lawler had gone inside--and said lowly: