And as he looked at him he saw that the years had brought a change in the man.

He had been a tall, bold, reckless-looking youth then, with a certain wild waywardness in his manner that might have destroyed him, had he yielded to it.

Now he was cold, calm, deliberate, imperturbable.

The recklessness had disappeared from his eyes; they were now aglow with quiet determination.
The waywardness had gone--ironlike resolution marked his manner.
And yet behind it all, Antrim could see the threat of those youthful passions; the lurking eagerness for violent action; the hint of preparedness, of readiness.
Antrim was startled, uneasy.

He saw now that he should not have left his men; that he had made a mistake in coming alone to meet Lawler.
He was certain of it now, when he heard Lawler's voice, saw the cold, smiling light in his eyes.
"You're wanting my cattle, Antrim.