Jim Westcott
has his claws cut, and it's Beaton's turn to spend a little."

Westcott sat quietly in the chair as they filed out; then took the pipe
from his pocket and filled it slowly. He realised his defeat, his
helplessness, but his mind was already busy with the future.

Timmons came out from behind the desk a bit solicitous.

"Hurt eny?" he asked. "Didn't wing yer, or nuthin'?"

"No; the stove got the bullet. He shot through his pocket."

"Whut's all the row about?"

"Oh, not much, Timmons; this is my affair," and Westcott lit his pipe
with apparent indifference. "Lacy and I have got two mining claims
tapping the same lead, that's all. There's been a bit o' feeling
between us for some time. I reckon it's got to be fought out, now."

"Then yer've really struck ore?"

"Yes."

"And the young woman? Hes she got enything ter do with it?"

"Not a thing, Timmons; but I want to keep her out of the hands of that
bunch. Give me a lamp and I'll go up-stairs and think this game out."

CHAPTER IX: A NIGHT AND A MORNING

Stella Donovan never forgot the miseries of her first night in Haskell.
When old man Timmons finally left her, after placing the flaring lamp
on a chair, and went pattering back down the bare hall, she glanced
shudderingly about at her unpleasant surroundings, none too pleased
with the turn of events.

The room was scarcely large enough to contain the few articles of
furniture absolutely required. Its walls were of unplaned plank
occasionally failing to meet, and the only covering to the floor was a
dingy strip of rag-carpet. The bed was a cot, shapeless, and propped
up on one side by the iron leg of some veranda bench, while the open
window looked out into the street. There was a bolt, not appearing
particularly secure, with which Miss Donovan immediately locked the
door before venturing across to take a glance without.

The view was hardly reassuring, as the single street was still the
scene of pandemonium, the saloon and dance-hall almost directly
opposite, operating in full blast. Oaths and ribald laughter assailed
her ears, while directly beneath, although out of her view, a quarrel
threatened to lead to serious consequences. She pulled down the window
to shut out these sounds, but the room became so stuffy and hot without
even this slight ventilation, as to oblige her opening it again. As a
compromise she hauled down the curtain, a green paper affair, torn
badly, and w