16
Joan returned to consciousness with a sense of vague and unlocalizedpain which she thought was that old, familiar pang of grief. But oncefully awakened, as if by a sharp twinge, she became aware that the painwas some kind of muscular throb in her shoulder. The instant she wasfully sure of this the strange feeling ceased. Then she lay wide-eyed inthe darkness, waiting and wondering.
Suddenly the slight sharp twing was repeated. It seemed to come fromoutside her flesh. She shivered a little, thinking it might be acentipede. When she reached for her shoulder her hand came in contactwith a slender stick that had been thrust through a crack between theboards. Jim was trying to rouse her. This had been his method on severaloccasions when she had fallen asleep after waiting long for him.
Joan got up to the window, dizzy and sick with the resurging memory ofJim's return to Kells with that gold-belt.
Jim rose out of the shadow and felt for her, clasped her close. Joanhad none of the old thrill; her hands slid loosely round his; and everysecond the weight inwardly grew heavier.
"Joan! I had a time waking you," whispered Jim, and then he kissed her."Why, you're as cold as ice."
"Jim--I--I must have fainted," she replied.
"What for?" "I was peeping into Kells's cabin, when you--you--"
"Poor kid!" he interrupted, tenderly. "You've had so much to bear!...Joan, I fooled Kells. Oh, I was slick!... He ordered me out on a job--tokill a miner! Fancy that! And what do you think? I know Creede well.He's a good fellow. I traded my big nugget for his gold-belt!"
"You TRADED--you--didn't--kill him!" faltered Joan.
"Hear the child talk!" exclaimed Cleve, with a low laugh.
Joan suddenly clung to him with all her might, quivering in a silentjoy. It had not occurred to Jim what she might have thought.
"Listen," he went on. "I traded my nugget. It was worth a great dealmore than Creede's gold-belt. He knew this. He didn't want to trade. ButI coaxed him. I persuaded him to leave camp--to walk out on the road toBannack. To meet the stage somewhere and go on to Bannack, and stay afew days. He sure was curious. But I kept my secret.... Then I cameback here, gave the belt to Kells, told him I had followed Creede inthe dark, had killed him and slid him into a deep hole in the creek....Kells and Pearce--none of them paid any attention to my story. I hadthe gold-belt. That was enough. Gold talks--fills the ears of thesebandits.... I have my share of Creede's gold-dust in my pocket. Isn'tthat funny? Alas for my--YOUR big nugget! But we've got to play thegame. Besides, I've sacks and cans of gold hidden away. Joan, what'llwe do with it all? You're my wife now. And, oh! If we can only get awaywith it you'll be rich!"
Joan could not share his happiness any more than she could understandhis spirit. She remembered.
"Jim--dear--did Kells tell you what your--next job was to be?" shewhispered, haltingly.
Cleve swore under his breath, but loud enough to make Joan swiftly puther hand over his lips and caution him.
"Joan, did you hear that about Gulden?" he asked.
"Oh yes."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you. Yes, I've got my second job. Andthis one I can't shirk or twist around."
Joan held to him convulsively. She could scarcely speak.
"Girl, don't lose your nerve!" he said, sternly. "When you married meyou made me a man. I'll play my end of the game. Don't fear for me. Youplan when we can risk escape. I'll obey you to the word."
"But Jim--oh, Jim!" she moaned. "You're as wild as these bandits. Youcan't see your danger.... That terrible Gulden!... You don't mean tomeet him--fight him?... Say you won't!"
"Joan, I'll meet him--and I'll KILL him," whispered Jim, with a piercingintensity. "You never knew I was swift with a gun. Well, I didn't,either, till I struck the border. I know now. Kells is the only manI've seen who can throw a gun quicker than I. Gulden is a big bull. He'sslow. I'll get into a card-game with him--I'll quarrel over gold--I'llsmash him as I did once before--and this time I won't shoot off his ear.I've my nerve now. Kells swore he'd do anything for me if I stand byhim now. I will. You never can tell. Kells is losing his grip. And mystanding by him may save you."
Joan drew a deep breath. Jim Cleve had indeed come into manhood. Shecrushed down her womanish fears and rose dauntless to the occasion. Shewould never weaken him by a lack of confidence.
"Jim, Kells's plot draws on to a fatal close," she said, earnestly. "Ifeel it. He's doomed. He doesn't realize that yet. He hopes and plotson. When he falls, then he'll be great--terrible. We must get awaybefore that comes. What you said about Creede has given me an idea.Suppose we plan to slip out some night soon, and stop the stage next dayon its way to Bannack?"
"I've thought of that. But we must have horses."
"Let's go afoot. We'd be safer. There'd not be so much to plan."
"But if we go on foot we must pack guns and grub--and there's mygold-dust. Fifty pounds or more! It's yours, Joan.... You'll need itall. You love pretty clothes and things. And now I'll get them for youor--or die."
"Hush! That's foolish talk, with our very lives at stake. Let me plansome more. Oh, I think so hard!... And, Jim, there's another thing. RedPearce was more than suspicious about your absence from the cabin atcertain hours. What he hinted to Kells about a woman in the case! I'mafraid he suspects or knows."
"He had me cold, too," replied Cleve, thoughtfully. "But he swore heknew nothing."
"Jim, trust a woman's instinct. Pearce lied. That gun at his side madehim a liar. He knew you'd kill him if he betrayed himself by a word. Oh,look out for him!"
Cleve did not reply. It struck Joan that he was not listening, at leastto her. His head was turned, rigid and alert. He had his ear to the softwind. Suddenly Joan heard a faint rustle-then another. They appearedto come from the corner of the cabin. Silently Cleve sank down into theshadow and vanished. Low, stealthy footsteps followed, but Joan was notsure whether or not Cleve made them. They did not seem to come from thedirection he usually took. Besides, when he was careful he never madethe slightest noise. Joan strained her ears, only to catch the faintsounds of the night. She lay back upon her bed, worried and anxiousagain, and soon the dread returned. There were to be no waking orsleeping hours free from this portent of calamity.
Next morning Joan awaited Kells, as was her custom, but he did notappear. This was the third time in a week that he had forgotten oravoided her or had been prevented from seeing her. Joan was glad,yet the fact was not reassuring. The issue for Kells was growing fromtrouble to disaster.
Early in the afternoon she heard Kells returning from camp. He had menwith him. They conversed in low, earnest tones. Joan was about to spy upon them when Kells's step approached her door. He rapped and spoke:
"Put on Dandy Dale's suit and mask, and come out here," he said.
The tone of his voice as much as the content of his words startled Joanso that she did not at once reply.
"Do you hear?" he called, sharply.
"Yes," replied Joan.
Then he went back to his men, and the low, earnest conversation wasrenewed.
Reluctantly Joan took down Dandy Dale's things from the pegs, and witha recurring shame she divested herself of part of her clothes and donnedthe suit and boots and mask and gun. Her spirit rose, however, at thethought that this would be a disguise calculated to aid her in theescape with Cleve. But why had Kells ordered the change? Was hein danger and did he mean to flee from Alder Creek? Joan found thespeculation a relief from that haunting, persistent thought of Jim Cleveand Gulden. She was eager to learn, still she hesitated at the door. Itwas just as hard as ever to face those men.
But it must be, so with a wrench she stepped out boldly.
Kells looked worn and gray. He had not slept. But his face did not wearthe shade she had come to associate with his gambling and drinking. Sixother men were present, and Joan noted coats and gloves and weapons andspurs. Kells turned to address her. His face lighted fleetingly.
"I want you to be ready to ride any minute," he said.
"Why?" asked Joan.
"We may HAVE to, that's all," he replied.
His men, usually so keen when they had a chance to ogle Joan, nowscarcely gave her a glance. They were a dark, grim group, with hard eyesand tight lips. Handy Oliver was speaking.
"I tell you, Gulden swore he seen Creede--on the road--in thelamplight--last night AFTER Jim Cleve got here."
"Gulden must have been mistaken," declared Kells, impatiently.
"He ain't the kind to make mistakes," replied Oliver.
"Gul's seen Creede's ghost, thet's what," suggested Blicky, uneasily."I've seen a few in my time."
Some of the bandits nodded gloomily.
"Aw!" burst out Red Pearce. "Gulden never seen a ghost in his life. Ifhe seen Creede he's seen him ALIVE!"
"Shore you're right, Red," agreed Jesse Smith.
"But, men--Cleve brought in Creede's belt--and we've divided the gold,"said Kells. "You all know Creede would have to be dead before that beltcould be unbuckled from him. There's a mistake."
"Boss, it's my idee thet Gul is only makin' more trouble," put in BateWood. "I seen him less than an hour ago. I was the first one Gul talkedto. An' he knew Jim Cleve did for Creede. How'd he know? Thet wassupposed to be a secret. What's more, Gul told me Cleve was on the jobto kill him. How'd he ever find thet out?... Sure as God made littleapples Cleve never told him!"
Kells's face grew livid and his whole body vibrated. "Maybe one ofGulden's gang was outside, listening when we planned Cleve's job," hesuggested. But his look belied his hope.
"Naw! There's a nigger in the wood-pile, you can gamble on thet,"blurted out the sixth bandit, a lean faced, bold-eye, blond-mustachedfellow whose name Joan had never heard.
"I won't believe it," replied Kells, doggedly. "And you, Budd, you'reaccusing somebody present of treachery--or else Cleve. He's the only onenot here who knew."
"Wal, I always said thet youngster was slick," replied Budd.
"Will you accuse him to his face?"
"I shore will. Glad of the chance."
"Then you're drunk or just a fool."
"Thet so?"
"Yes, that's so," flashed Kells. "You don't know Cleve. He'll kill you.He's lightning with a gun. Do you suppose I'd set him on Gulden's trailif I wasn't sure? Why I wouldn't care to--"
"Here comes Cleve," interrupted Pearce, sharply.
Rapid footsteps sounded without. Then Joan saw Jim Cleve darken thedoorway. He looked keen and bold. Upon sight of Joan in her changedattire he gave a slight start.
"Budd, here's Cleve," called out Red Pearce, mockingly. "Now, say it tohis face!"
In the silence that ensued Pearce's spirit dominated the moment with itscunning, hate, and violence. But Kells savagely leaped in front of themen, still master of the situation.
"Red, what's got into you?" he hissed. "You're cross-grained lately.You're sore. Any more of this and I'll swear you're a disorganizer....Now, Budd, you keep your mouth shut. And you, Cleve, you pay no heed toBudd if he does gab.... We're in bad and all the men have chips on theirshoulders. We've got to stop fighting among ourselves."
"Wal, boss, there's a power of sense in a good example," dryly remarkedBate Wood. His remark calmed Kells and eased the situation.
"Jim, did you meet Gulden?" queried Kells, eagerly.
"Can't find him anywhere," replied Cleve. "I've loafed in the saloonsand gambling-hells where he hangs out. But he didn't show up. He's incamp. I know that for a fact. He's laying low for some reason."
"Gulden's been tipped off, Jim," said Kells, earnestly. "He told BateWood you were out to kill him."
"I'm glad. It wasn't a fair hand you were going to deal him," respondedCleve. "But who gave my job away? Someone in this gang wants me donefor--more than Gulden."
Cleve's flashing gaze swept over the motionless men and fixed hardestupon Red Pearce. Pearce gave back hard look for hard look.
"Gulden told Oliver more," continued Kells, and he pulled Cleve aroundto face him. "Gulden swore he saw Creede alive last night.... LATE LASTNIGHT!"
"That's funny," replied Cleve, without the flicker of an eyelash.
"It's not funny. But it's queer. Gulden hasn't the moral sense to lie.Bate says he wants to make trouble between you and me. I doubt that.I don't believe Gulden could see a ghost, either. He's simply mistakensome miner for Creede."
"He sure has, unless Creede came back to life. I'm not sitting on hischest now, holding him down."
Kells drew back, manifestly convinced and relieved. This action seemedto be a magnet for Pearce. He detached himself from the group, and,approaching Kells, tapped him significantly on the shoulder; and whetherby design or accident the fact was that he took a position where Kellswas between him and Cleve.
"Jack, you're being double-crossed here--an' by more 'n one," he said,deliberately. "But if you want me to talk you've got to guarantee nogun-play."
"Speak up, Red," replied Kells, with a glinting eye. "I swear therewon't be a gun pulled."
The other men shifted from one foot to another and there were deep-drawnbreaths. Jim Cleve alone seemed quiet and cool. But his eyes wereablaze.
"Fust off an' for instance here's one who's double-crossin' you," saidPearce, in slow, tantalizing speech, as if he wore out this suspense totorture Kells. And without ever glancing at Joan he jerked a thumb, insignificant gesture, at her.
Joan leaned back against the wall, trembling and cold all over. She readPearce's mind. He knew her secret and meant to betray her and Jim. Hehated Kells and wanted to torture him. If only she could think quicklyand speak! But she seemed dumb and powerless.
"Pearce, what do you mean?" demanded Kells.
"The girl's double-crossin' you," replied Pearce. With the uttered wordshe grew pale and agitated.
Suddenly Kells appeared to become aware of Joan's presence and that theimplication was directed toward her. Then, many and remarkable as hadbeen the changes Joan had seen come over him, now occurred one whollygreater. It had all his old amiability, his cool, easy manner, veiling adeep and hidden ruthlessness, terrible in contrast.
"Red, I thought our talk concerned men and gold and--things," he said,with a cool, slow softness that had a sting, "but since you've nerveenough or are crazy enough to speak of--her--why, explain your meaning."
Pearce's jaw worked so that he could scarcely talk. He had gone toofar--realized it too late.
"She meets a man--back there--at her window," he panted. "They whisperin the dark for hours. I've watched an' heard them. An' I'd told youbefore, but I wanted to make sure who he was.... I know him now!... An'remember I seen him climb in an' out--"
Kells's whole frame leaped. His gun was a flash of blue and red andwhite all together. Pearce swayed upright, like a tree chopped at theroots, and then fell, face up, eyes set--dead. The bandit leader stoodover him with the smoking gun.
"My Gawd, Jack!" gasped Handy Oliver. "You swore no one would pulla gun--an' here you've killed him yourself!... YOU'VE DOUBLE-CROSSEDYOURSELF! An' if I die for it I've got to tell you Red wasn't lyin'then!"
Kells's radiance fled, leaving him ghastly. He stared at Oliver.
"You've double-crossed yourself an' your pards," went on Oliver,pathetically. "What's your word amount to? Do you expect the gangto stand for this?... There lays Red Pearce dead. An' for what? Jestonce--relyin' on your oath--he speaks out what might have showed you.An' you kill him!... If I knowed what he knowed I'd tell you now withthet gun in your hand! But I don't know. Only I know he wasn't lyin'....Ask the girl!... An' as for me, I reckon I'm through with you an' yourLegion. You're done, Kells--your head's gone--you've broke over thetslip of a woman!"
Oliver spoke with a rude and impressive dignity. When he ended he strodeout into the sunlight.
Kells was shaken by this forceful speech, yet he was not in any sensea broken man. "Joan--you heard Pearce," said he, passionately. "He liedabout you. I had to kill him. He hinted--Oh, the low-lived dog! He couldnot know a good woman. He lied--and there he is-
-dead! I wouldn't fetchhim back for a hundred Legions!"
"But it--it wasn't--all--a lie," said Joan, and her words came haltinglybecause a force stronger than her cunning made her speak. She hadreached a point where she could not deceive Kells to save her life.
"WHAT!" he thundered.
"Pearce told the truth--except that no one ever climbed in my window.That's false. No one could climb in. It's too small.... But I didwhisper--to someone."
Kells had to moisten his lips to speak. "Who?"
"I'll never tell you."
"Who?... I'll kill him!"
"No--no. I won't tell. I won't let you kill another man on my account."
"I'll choke it out of you."
"You can't. There's no use to threaten me, or hurt me, either."
Kells seemed dazed. "Whisper! For hours! In the dark!... But, Joan, whatfor? Why such a risk?"
Joan shook her head.
"Were you just unhappy--lonesome? Did some young miner happen to seeyou there in daylight--then come at night? Wasn't it only accident? Tellme."
"I won't--and I won't because I don't want you to spill more blood."
"For my sake," he queried, with the old, mocking tone. Then he grew darkwith blood in his face, fierce with action of hands and body as hebent nearer her. "Maybe you like him too well to see him shot?... Didyou--whisper often to this stranger?"
Joan felt herself weakening. Kells was so powerful in spirit and passionthat she seemed unable to fight him. She strove to withhold her reply,but it burst forth, involuntarily.
"Yes--often."
That roused more than anger and passion. Jealousy flamed from him and ittransformed him into a devil.
"You held hands out of that window--and kissed--in the dark?" he cried,with working lips.
Joan had thought of this so fearfully and intensely--she had battled soto fortify herself to keep it secret--that he had divined it, had readher mind. She could not control herself. The murder of Pearce had almostoverwhelmed her. She had not the strength to bite her tongue. Suggestionalone would have drawn her then--and Kells's passionate force washypnotic.
"Yes," she whispered.
He appeared to control a developing paroxysm of rage.
"That settles you," he declared darkly. "But I'll do one more decentthing by you. I'll marry you." Then he wheeled to his men. "Blicky,there's a parson down in camp. Go on the run. Fetch him back if you haveto push him with a gun."
Blicky darted through the door and his footsteps thudded out of hearing.
"You can't force me to marry you," said Joan. "I--I won't open my lips."
"That's your affair. I've no mind to coax you," he replied, bitterly."But if you don't I'll try Gulden's way with a woman.... You remember.Gulden's way! A cave and a rope!"
Joan's legs gave out under her and she sank upon a pile of blankets.Then beyond Kells she saw Jim Cleve. With all that was left of herspirit she flashed him a warning--a meaning--a prayer not to do thedeed she divined was his deadly intent. He caught it and obeyed. And heflashed back a glance which meant that, desperate as her case was, itcould never be what Kells threatened.
"Men, see me through this," said Kells to the silent group. "Then anydeal you want--I'm on. Stay here or--sack the camp! Hold up the stageexpress with gold for Bannack! Anything for a big stake! Then the trailand the border."
He began pacing the floor. Budd and Smith strolled outside. Bate Woodfumbled in his pockets for pipe and tobacco. Cleve sat down at the tableand leaned on his hands. No one took notice of the dead Pearce. Here wassomber and terrible sign of the wildness of the border clan--that Kellscould send out for a parson to marry him to a woman he hopelessly loved,there in the presence of murder and death, with Pearce's distorted faceupturned in stark and ghastly significance.
It might have been a quarter of an hour, though to Joan it seemed anendless time, until footsteps and voices outside announced the return ofBlicky.
He held by the arm a slight man whom he was urging along with no gentleforce. This stranger's face presented as great a contrast to Blicky's ascould have been imagined. His apparel proclaimed his calling. There wereconsternation and bewilderment in his expression, but very little fear.
"He was preachin' down there in a tent," said Blicky, "an I jest waltzedhim up without explainin'."
"Sir, I want to be married at once," declared Kells, peremptorily.
"Certainly. I'm at your service," replied the preacher. "But I deplorethe--the manner in which I've been approached."
"You'll excuse haste," rejoined the bandit. "I'll pay you well." Kellsthrew a small buckskin sack of gold-dust upon the table, and then heturned to Joan. "Come, Joan," he said, in the tone that brooked neitherresistance nor delay.
It was at that moment that the preacher first noticed Joan. Was hercostume accountable for his start? Joan had remembered his voice and shewondered if he would remember hers. Certainly Jim had called her Joanmore than once on the night of the marriage. The preacher's eyes grewkeener. He glanced from Joan to Kells, and then at the other men, whohad come in. Jim Cleve stood behind Jesse Smith's broad person, andevidently the preacher did not see him. That curious gaze, however, nextdiscovered the dead man on the floor. Then to the curiosity and anxietyupon the preacher's face was added horror.
"A minister of God is needed here, but not in the capacity you name," hesaid. "I'll perform no marriage ceremony in the presence of--murder."
"Mr. Preacher, you'll marry me quick or you'll go along with him,"replied Kells, deliberately.
"I cannot be forced." The preacher still maintained some dignity, but hehad grown pale.
"_I_ can force you. Get ready now!... Joan, come here!"
Kells spoke sternly, yet something of the old, self-mocking spirit wasin his tone. His intelligence was deriding the flesh and blood of him,the beast, the fool. It spoke that he would have his way and that thechoice was fatal for him.
Joan shook her head. In one stride Kells reached her and swung herspinning before him. The physical violence acted strangely uponJoan--roused her rage.
"I wouldn't marry you to save my life--even if I could!" she burst out.
At her declaration the preacher gave a start that must have beensuspicion or confirmation, or both. He bent low to peer into the face ofthe dead Pearce. When he arose he was shaking his head. Evidently he haddecided that Pearce was not the man to whom he had married Joan.
"Please remove your mask," he said to Joan.
She did so, swiftly, without a tremor. The preacher peered into herface again, as he had upon the night he had married her to Jim. He facedKells again.
"I am beyond your threats," he said, now with calmness. "I can't marryyou to a woman who already has a husband.... But I don't see thathusband here."
"You don't see that husband here!" echoed the bewildered Kells. Hestared with open mouth. "Say, have you got a screw loose?"
The preacher, in his swift glance, had apparently not observed thehalf-hidden Cleve. Certainly it appeared now that he would haveno attention for any other than Kells. The bandit was a study. Hisastonishment was terrific and held him like a chain. Suddenly helurched.
"What did you say?" he roared, his face flaming.
"I can't marry you to a woman who already has a husband."
Swift as light the red flashed out of Kells's face. "Did you ever seeher before?" he asked.
"Yes," replied the preacher.
"Where and when?"
"Here--at the back of this cabin--a few nights ago."
It hurt Joan to look at Kells now, yet he seemed wonderful to behold.She felt as guilty as if she had really been false to him. Herheart labored high in her breast. This was the climax--the moment ofcatastrophe. Another word and Jim Cleve would be facing Kells. The bloodpressure in Joan's throat almost strangled her.
"At the back of this cabin!... At her window?"
"Yes."
"What were you there for?"
"In my capacity as minister. I was summoned to marry her."<
br />
"To marry her?" gasped Kells.
"Yes. She is Joan Randle, from Hoadley, Idaho. She is over eighteen. Iunderstood she was detained here against her will. She loved an honestyoung miner of the camp. He brought me up here one night. And I marriedthem."
"YOU--MARRIED--THEM!"
"Yes."
Kells was slow in assimilating the truth and his action correspondedwith his mind. Slowly his hand moved toward his gun. He drew it, threwit aloft. And then all the terrible evil in the man flamed forth. Butas he deliberately drew down on the preacher Blicky leaped forward andknocked up the gun. Flash and report followed; the discharge went intothe roof. Blicky grasped Kells's arm and threw his weight upon it tokeep it down.
"I fetched thet parson here," he yelled, "an you ain't a-goin' to killhim!... Help, Jesse!... He's crazy! He'll do it!"
Jesse Smith ran to Blicky's aid and tore the gun out of Kells's hand.Jim Cleve grasped the preacher by the shoulders and, whirling himaround, sent him flying out of the door.
"Run for your life!" he shouted.
Blicky and Jesse Smith were trying to hold the lunging Kells.
"Jim, you block the door," called Jesse. "Bate, you grab any loose gunsan' knives.... Now, boss, rant an' be damned!"
They released Kells and backed away, leaving him the room. Joan's limbsseemed unable to execute her will.
"Joan! It's true," he exclaimed, with whistling breath.
"Yes."
"WHO?" he bellowed.
"I'll never tell."
He reached for her with hands like claws, as if he meant to tear her,rend her. Joan was helpless, weak, terrified. Those shaking, clutchinghands reached for her throat and yet never closed round it. Kells wantedto kill her, but he could not. He loomed over her, dark, speechless,locked in his paroxysm of rage. Perhaps then came a realization of ruinthrough her. He hated her because he loved her. He wanted to kill herbecause of that hate, yet he could not harm her, even hurt her. And hissoul seemed in conflict with two giants--the evil in him that was hate,and the love that was good. Suddenly he flung her aside. She stumbledover Pearce's body, almost falling, and staggered back to the wall.Kells had the center of the room to himself. Like a mad steer in acorral he gazed about, stupidly seeking some way to escape. But theescape Kells longed for was from himself. Then either he let himself goor was unable longer to control his rage. He began to plunge around. Hisactions were violent, random, half insane. He seemed to want to destroyhimself and everything. But the weapons were guarded by his men and theroom contained little he could smash. There was something magnificentin his fury, yet childish and absurd. Even under its influence and hisabandonment he showed a consciousness of its futility. In a few momentsthe inside of the cabin was in disorder and Kells seemed a disheveled,sweating, panting wretch. The rapidity and violence of his action,coupled with his fury, soon exhausted him. He fell from plunging hereand there to pacing the floor. And even the dignity of passion passedfrom him. He looked a hopeless, beaten, stricken man, conscious ofdefeat.
Jesse Smith approached the bandit leader. "Jack, here's your gun," hesaid. "I only took it because you was out of your head.... An' listen,boss. There's a few of us left."
That was Smith's expression of fidelity, and Kells received it with apallid, grateful smile.
"Bate, you an' Jim clean up this mess," went on Smith. "An', Blicky,come here an' help me with Pearce. We'll have to plant him."
The stir begun by the men was broken by a sharp exclamation from Cleve.
"Kells, here comes Gulden--Beady Jones, Williams, Beard!"
The bandit raised his head and paced back to where he could look out.
Bate Wood made a violent and significant gesture. "Somethin' wrong," hesaid, hurriedly. "An' it's more'n to do with Gul!... Look down the road.See thet gang. All excited an' wavin' hands an' runnin'. But they'regoin' down into camp."
Jesse Smith turned a gray face toward Kells. "Boss, there's hell to pay!I've seen THET kind of excitement before."
Kells thrust the men aside and looked out. He seemed to draw upon areserve strength, for he grew composed even while he gazed. "Jim, get inthe other room," he ordered, sharply. "Joan--you go, too. Keep still."
Joan hurried to comply. Jim entered after her and closed the door.Instinctively they clasped hands, drew close together.
"Jim, what does it mean?" she whispered, fearfully. "Gulden!"
"He must be looking for me," replied Jim. "But there's more doing. Didyou see that crowd down the road?"
"No. I couldn't see out."
"Listen."
Heavy tramp boots sounded without. Silently Joan led Jim to the crackbetween the boards through which she had spied upon the bandits. Jimpeeped through, and Joan saw his hand go to his gun. Then she looked.
Gulden was being crowded into the cabin by fierce, bulging-jawed menwho meant some kind of dark business. The strangest thing about thatentrance was its silence. In a moment they were inside, confrontingKells with his little group. Beard, Jones, Williams, former faithfulallies of Kells, showed a malignant opposition. And the huge Guldenresembled an enraged gorilla. For an instant his great, pale, cavernouseyes glared. He had one hand under his coat and his position had asinister suggestion. But Kells stood cool and sure. When Gulden movedKells's gun was leaping forth. But he withheld his fire, for Gulden hadonly a heavy round object wrapped in a handkerchief.
"Look there!" he boomed, and he threw the object on the table.
The dull, heavy, sodden thump had a familiar ring. Joan heard Jim gaspand his hand tightened spasmodically upon hers.
Slowly the ends of the red scarf slid down to reveal an irregularlyround, glinting lump. When Joan recognized it her heart seemed to burst.
"Jim Cleve's nugget!" ejaculated Kells. "Where'd you get that?"
Gulden leaned across the table, his massive jaw working. "I found it onthe miner Creede," replied the giant, stridently.
Then came a nervous shuffling of boots on the creaky boards. In thesilence a low, dull murmur of distant voices could be heard, strangelymenacing. Kells stood transfixed, white as a sheet.
"On Creede!"
"Yes."
"Where was his--his body?"
"I left it out on the Bannack trail."
The bandit leader appeared mute.
"Kells, I followed Creede out of camp last night," fiercely declaredGulden.... "I killed him!... I found this nugget on him!"