strange!" exclaimed Wood, significantly. But his
inference was lost upon Gulden.

"I won't allow fighting in my Legion," said Kells, coolly. "I'll pick
this band myself."

"Thet's the secret," rejoined Wood. "The right fellers. I've been in all
kinds of bands. Why, I even was a vigilante in '51."

This elicited a laugh from his fellows, except the wooden-faced Gulden.

"How many do we want?" asked Red Pearce.

"The number doesn't matter. But they must be men I can trust and
control. Then as lieutenants I'll need a few young fellows, like you,
Red. Nervy, daring, cool, quick of wits."

Red Pearce enjoyed the praise bestowed upon him and gave his shoulders
a swagger. "Speakin' of that, boss," he said, "reminds me of a chap who
rode into Cabin Gulch a few weeks ago. Braced right into Beard's place,
where we was all playin' faro, an' he asks for Jack Kells. Right off
we all thought he was a guy who had a grievance, an' some of us was for
pluggin' him. But I kinda liked him an' I cooled the gang down. Glad
I did that. He wasn't wantin' to throw a gun. His intentions were
friendly. Of course I didn't show curious about who or what he was.
Reckoned he was a young feller who'd gone bad sudden-like an' was
huntin' friends. An' I'm here to say, boss, that he was wild."

"What's his name?" asked Kells.

"Jim Cleve, he said," replied Pearce.

Joan Randle, hidden back in the shadows, forgotten or ignored by this
bandit group, heard the name Jim Cleve with pain and fear, but not
amaze. From the moment Pearce began his speech she had been prepared
for the revelation of her runaway lover's name. She trembled, and grew
a little sick. Jim had made no idle threat. What would she have given to
live over again the moment that had alienated him?

"Jim Cleve," mused Kells. "Never heard of him. And I never forget a name
or a face. What's he like?"

"Clean, rangy chap, big, but not too big," replied Pearce. "All muscle.
Not more'n twenty three. Hard rider, hard fighter, hard gambler an'
drinker--reckless as hell. If only you can steady him, boss! Ask Bate
what he thinks."

"Well!" exclaimed Kells in surprise. "Strangers are everyday occurrences
on this border. But I never knew one to impress you fellows as this
Cleve.... Bate, what do you say? What's this Cleve done? You're an old
head. Talk, sense, now."

"Done?" echoed Wood, scratching his grizzled head. "What in the hell
ain't he done?... He rode in brazener than any feller