hts sought to fly faster. These
men were brutes; here she began, and, alas, here she ended. She had
never known what brute meant; she had called Mark King that! And now, if
only Mark King could hear her call, could come to her.... But that was
less thought than prayer. These were brute beasts; their bestiality when
they had first come upon her was terrifying; now, as the alcohol burned
in their half-starved stomachs and the further intoxication of gold
crept into their blood, her terror was boundless. In a moment she would
feel upon her either the hands of Brodie or the hands of Jarrold. And
she was helpless and hopeless. Until, since life connotes hope, there
came a faint flicker of light. And with it came a sudden, compelling,
swift longing. If she might set them to quarrelling over her, to send a
snarling man at a snarling man's throat.... Her hands dropped to her
sides, and were clenched; she lifted her chin; with all that strength
that lay in the innermost soul of Gloria King she strove to drive her
great fear out of her eyes, to hide it from their wolfish regard, to
summon up in its stead a mocking inscrutability. There was but one thing
left to do, but one part to play----Oh, God, if she could play the
part! She stood motionless, silent; she battled with herself; she
struggled mightily for a calm utterance. And in the end she said in a
tone which she managed to make full of challenge:

"Which of you is the better man?"

They stared at her, all of them puzzled by her change of attitude as by
her words. Then Brodie, with a noisy explosion of laughter, smote his
thigh and, after him, Benny giggled foolishly.

"The better man!" Brodie shouted. "Hear her, Steve, old horse? The
better man!" He lunged to his feet; he stood solidly, unswerving though
more than ever slow and ponderous. "I'll go you, Steve. The lady's
right; she goes to the man who's man enough to get her. That's big Swen
Brodie, the best man in these mountains! I'll go you for her, Steve. By
God, she's worth it, too."

But Steve Jarrold sat where he was, glaring.

"She's sly," he grunted, cursing before and after. "Can't you see what
she's up to? She wants us to fight one another; she'd be glad if we both
killed one another. You don't understand women, Brodie; they're sly like
cats."

"Make a auction out'n it!" was Benny's mirthful suggestion. "Why just
you two guys, anyway? Where do you get that stuff? Free for all, that's
what I say!" He waved hi