I would have done it if it hadn't
been for Red Pearce."

Kells seemed gloomy and concentrated on his situation and he talked
naturally to Joan, as if she were one to sympathize. A bandit, then, in
the details of his life, the schemes, troubles, friendships, relations,
was no different from any other kind of a man. He was human, and things
that might constitute black evil for observers were dear to him, a part
of him. Joan feigned the sympathy she could not feel.

"I thought Gulden was your enemy."

Kells sat down on one of the box seats, and his heavy gun-sheath rested
upon the floor. He looked at Joan now, forgetting she was a woman and
his prisoner.

"I never thought of that till now," he said. "We always got along
because I understood him. I managed him. The man hasn't changed in the
least. He's always what he is. But there's a difference. I noticed that
first over in Lost Canon. And Joan, I believe it's because Gulden saw
you."

"Oh, no!" cried Joan, trembling.

"Maybe I'm wrong. Anyway something's wrong. Gulden never had a friend or
a partner. I don't misunderstand his position regarding Bailey. What did
he care for that soak? Gulden's cross-grained. He opposes anything or
anybody. He's got a twist in his mind that makes him dangerous.... I
wanted to get rid of him. I decided to--after last night. But now it
seems that's no easy job."

"Why?" asked Joan, curiously.

"Pearce and Wood and Beard, all men I rely on, said it won't do. They
hint Gulden is strong with my gang here, and all through the border.
I was wild. I don't believe it. But as I'm not sure--what can I do?...
They're all afraid of Gulden. That's it.... And I believe I am, too."

"You!" exclaimed Joan.

Kells actually looked ashamed. "I believe I am, Joan," he replied. "That
Gulden is not a man. I never was afraid of a real man. He's--he's an
animal."

"He made me think of a gorrilla," said Joan.

"There's only one man I know who's not afraid of Gulden. He's a
new-comer here on the border. Jim Cleve he calls himself. A youngster I
can't figure! But he'd slap the devil himself in the face. Cleve won't
last long out here. Yet you can never tell. Men like him, who laugh at
death, sometimes avert it for long. I was that way once.... Cleve heard
me talking to Pearce about Gulden. And he said, 'Kells, I'll pick a
fight with this Gulden and drive him out of the camp or kill him.'"

"What did you say?" queried Joan, trying to steady her voice