His face was chalk white, but there was a set to his lips and a glow in his eyes that told Shorty there was no use in arguing.
Shorty permitted Lawler to hold the lead he had taken when they reached the Willets' trail.

But Shorty kept a vigilant eye upon the big horse and his rider as they went over the plains toward town.

Twice Shorty saw Lawler reel in the saddle, and both times Shorty urged his horse forward to be close to him when he fell.

But each time Lawler stiffened and rode onward--silent, grimly determined, with Shorty riding behind him, watching him with awed admiration.
Lawler had not mentioned the purpose of his ride to town, and Shorty was lost in a maze of futile conjecture.

Shorty knew, however, that a man in Lawler's condition would not ride to town to gratify a whim; and the longer he watched Lawler the deeper became his conviction that another tragedy was imminent.