The big horse leaped with the word he caught from his rider's lips, racing lightly with the wind toward the fence where the men were working.
Lawler's approach was noiseless, for all sound was engulfed in the steady, roaring whine of the storm.

Neither of the two men, working at the fence, heard Lawler as he brought the big horse to a halt within half a dozen paces of them.
The taller of the two, plying a pair of wire-nippers, completed his work at a fence post and turned to leap toward another.

The movement brought him against the muzzle of Lawler's horse.

He halted jerkily, retreated a step, and looked up, to see Lawler looking at him from behind the muzzle of the big pistol that had leaped into his hand.
There was no word spoken--none could be heard at the moment.

What followed was grim pantomime, with tragedy lurking near.
The tall man held his position.