Grinning crookedly, Warden crossed the street and made his way to the station building, where a few minutes later he was talking with Simmons. Simmons was visibly excited. There was curiosity in Warden's gaze. "He's wise," said Simmons. He was still wiping perspiration from his forehead, and he mechanically repeated to Warden the words he had uttered to himself immediately after Lawler left his office: "I'm glad it's over. I've been dreadin' it. He's the only one in the whole bunch that I was afraid of. There'll be hell to pay in this section, now--pure, unadulterated hell, an' no mistake!" And then he added something that had occurred to him afterward: "If the big guys back of this thing knowed Kane Lawler as well as I know him, they'd have thought a heap before they started this thing!" "Bah!" sneered Warden; "you're raving! We know what we are doing. You do as you're told--that's all. And keep your mouth shut. Just keep on telling them there are no cars. That's the truth, isn't it?" He grinned gleefully at Simmons. "So he's wise, eh?" he added. "Well, I'm damned glad of it--the sagebrush rummie! We'll make him hump before we get through with him!" Hatred of Lawler had seized Warden--a passion that ran through his veins with the virulence of a strong poison. It had been the incident of the fluttering handkerchief that had aroused him. Until then he had merely disliked Lawler, aware of the latent strength of him, his rugged manliness, and his quiet confidence. All those evidences of character had irritated him, for they had brought an inevitable contrast between himself and the man, and he knew he lacked those things which would have made him Lawler's equal. He felt inferior, and the malevolence that accompanied the conviction was reflected in his face as he faced Simmons. "No cars, now--damn them! Not a single car! Understand, Simmons? No cars--you can't get them! No matter what happens, you can't get cars--for anybody!" He left Simmons and descended to the street. As he passed the front of the Willets Hotel he saw Lawler and his friends inside; but Lawler had his back turned, and the others were interestedly watching him, gesturing and talking. Warden entered the front door of the Wolf. He stopped at the bar for a drink, and the barkeeper told him, in reply to his question, that Singleton was in a rear room. Singleton was alone. He was sitting in a chair at a table, with a glass in front of him, and he was staring abstractedly at the floor when Warden entered, closing the door behind him. Warden drew a chair up to the table and dropped into it. And then for the first time he looked closely at Singleton's face and saw the gash on his left cheek. The wound had been treated, but beneath the cloth at one end Warden could see the open flesh. "What in blazes has happened to you?" inquired Warden.