"I reckon it's goin' to be a lot bothersome to ship that bunch of stock, Lawler--a heap bothersome. There's been half a dozen other owners in to see me within the last week or so, an' I couldn't give them no encouragement. There ain't an empty car in the state." Lawler was watching him intently, and the expression in his eyes embarrassed Simmons. He flushed, cleared his throat again, and then shot a belligerent glance at Lawler. "It ain't my fault--not a bit of it, Lawler. I've been losin' sleep over this thing--losin' sleep, I tell you! I've telegraphed every damned point on the line. This road is swept clean as a whistle. 'No cars' they wire back to me--'no cars!' I've read that answer until there ain't no room for anything else in my brain. "The worst of it is, I'm gettin' blamed for it. You'd think I was runnin' the damned railroad--that I was givin' orders to the president. Lem Caldwell, of the Star, over to Keegles, was in here yesterday, threatenin' to herd ride me if I didn't have a hundred cars here this day, week. He'd been to see Gary Warden--the same as you have--an' he was figgerin' on playin' her independent. An' some more owners have been in. I don't know what in hell the company is thinkin' of--no cars, an' the round-up just over." Simmons had worked himself into a near frenzy. His face had become bloated with passion, he was breathing fast. But Lawler noted that his eyes were shifty, that he turned them everywhere except upon Lawler. Simmons now paused, seemingly having exhausted his breath. "I've just left Gary Warden," said Lawler, slowly. "He offered his price for my stock. He told me if I accepted, it meant there would be no delay, that they would be shipped immediately. Warden seems to know where he can get cars." Simmons' face reddened deeply, the flush suffusing his neck and ears. He shot one swift glance at Lawler, and then looked down. In that swift glance, however, Lawler had seen a fleeting gleam of guilt, of insincerity. Lawler laughed shortly--a sound that made Simmons shoot another swift glance at him. "How is it that Gary Warden figures on getting cars, Simmons?" said Lawler. Simmons got up, his face flaming with rage. "You're accusin' me of holdin' somethin' back, eh? You're callin' me a liar! You're thinkin' I'm----" "Easy, there, Simmons." There was a chill in Lawler's voice that brought Simmons rigid with a snap--as though he had suddenly been drenched with cold water. The flush left his face; he drew a deep, quick breath; then stood with open mouth, watching Lawler.