in she
drew aside the curtain and peered out.

Gulden, huge, stolid, gloomy, was entering the cabin. The man fell into
the circle and faced Kell with the fire-light dancing in his cavernous
eyes.

"Hello, Gulden!" said Kells, coolly. "What ails you?"

"Anybody tell you about Bill Bailey?" asked Gulden, heavily.

Kells did not show the least concern. "Tell me what?"

"That he died in a cabin, down in the valley?"

Kells gave a slight start and his eyes narrowed and shot steely glints.
"No. It's news to me."

"Kells, you left Bailey for dead. But he lived. He was shot through,
but he got there somehow--nobody knows. He was far gone when Beady Jones
happened along. Before he died he sent word to me by Beady.... Are you
curious to know what it was?"

"Not the least," replied Kells. "Bailey was--well, offensive to my wife.
I shot him."

"He swore you drew on him in cold blood," thundered Gulden. "He swore it
was for nothing--just so you could be alone with that girl!"

Kells rose in wonderful calmness, with only his pallor and a slight
shaking of his hands to betray excitement. An uneasy stir and murmur ran
through the room. Red Pearce, nearest at hand, stepped to Kells's side.
All in a moment there was a deadly surcharged atmosphere there.

"Well, he swore right!... Now what's it to you?"

Apparently the fact and its confession were nothing particular to
Gulden, or else he was deep where all considered him only dense and
shallow.

"It's done. Bill's dead," continued Gulden. "But why do you double-cross
the gang? What's the game? You never did it before.... That girl isn't
your--"

"Shut up!" hissed Kells. Like a flash his hand flew out with his gun,
and all about him was dark menace.

Gulden made no attempt to draw. He did not show surprise nor fear nor
any emotion. He appeared plodding in mind. Red Pearce stepped between
Kells and Gulden. There was a realization in the crowd, loud breaths,
scraping of feet. Gulden turned away. Then Kells resumed his seat and
his pipe as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

9

Joan turned away from the door in a cold clamp of relief. The shadow
of death hovered over these men. She must fortify herself to live
under that shadow, to be prepared for any sudden violence, to stand a
succession of shocks that inevitably would come. She listened. The men
were talking and laughing now; there came a click of chips, the spat of
a thrown card, the thump of a littl