He saw, too, that he had reached a point where three trails converged.
One--which Shorty was traveling--came westward from the Two Bar--Hamlin's ranch; the other, leading almost straight southward, was the Circle L trail; the third, leading southward also, though inclining in a westward direction, ran to the Rabbit Ear, near the Dickman cabin--the ranch where Antrim and his men had established themselves.
Shorty came on at cyclonic speed.

When he reached a point within a hundred yards of Lawler, the latter observed that Shorty's face was pale; that his jaws were set and his eyes glowing with a wild, savage light.
Stiffening, his lips straightening, a responsive passion assailing him, Lawler drew Red King down and waited for Shorty to reach him.

He knew Shorty did not permit himself to become excited without cause.
And when Shorty drew his horse to a sliding halt within half a dozen paces of Red King, Lawler saw that Shorty was in the grip of a cold, deadly passion.

His eyes were glittering, his lips were stiff and white, and he was drawing great, long breaths that could be heard above the shuddering gasps of the horse he rode.
The giant's fingers were working--clenching and unclenching near the butts of the two guns he wore; and his eyes were pools of icy rage that chilled Lawler.
Twice he tried to speak as Lawler shot a short question at him, and twice he failed, making guttural sounds that betrayed the awful agitation that had seized him.

At the third attempt he blurted: "Lawler, Antrim's gang has cleaned up the Circle L! Damn their sneakin', dirty hides! They've run off our cattle--takin' 'em through Kinney's canon! They've wiped out the Circle L outfit! Blackburn's left--Blackburn an' three more poor fellows they plugged, an' didn't finish! "Blackburn made me ride for help--damn him, anyway, Lawler! I wanted to stay with the bunch!" Shorty's voice broke; his lips quivered; his voice rose to a screech of impotent, awful rage.