Lawler would not always be able to control the passion that lurked in him.

He knew it.
One day Warden would press him too hard.

And then---- His thoughts had made him oblivious to his surroundings.

A whinney from Red King brought him out of his ruminations, and he looked swiftly up, and then directly ahead, to see a horseman racing toward him; the rider crouched in the saddle, the horse running low, coming toward him at a speed that brought him out of depressions with light, flying bounds, and over the crests of small hills with a velocity that was dizzying.
The running horse and the crouching rider were still a mile from Lawler; but even at that distance Lawler recognized Shorty, and he urged Red King on to meet him, suspecting that nothing but a stern emergency would make the man race his horse at that speed.
Lawler glanced back as he rode.

He had come several miles, and the rolling character of the plains behind him had blotted Willets out.