od.

Kells had lost heavily, and he was under the influence of drink. He
drove Wood out of the cabin, cursing him sullenly. Then he put in place
the several bars that served as a door of his cabin. After that he
walked unsteadily around, and all about his action and manner that was
not aimless seemed to be dark and intermittent staring toward Joan's
cabin. She felt sickened again with this new aspect of her situation,
but she was not in the least afraid of Kells. She watched him till he
approached her door and then she drew back a little. He paused before
the blanket as if he had been impelled to halt from fear. He seemed to
be groping in thought. Then he cautiously and gradually, by degrees,
drew aside the blanket. He could not see Joan in the darkness, but she
saw him plainly. He fumbled at the poles, and, finding that he could not
budge them, he ceased trying. There was nothing forceful or strong about
him, such as was manifest when he was sober. He stood there a moment,
breathing heavily, in a kind of forlorn, undecided way, and then he
turned back. Joan heard him snap the lanterns. The lights went out and
all grew dark and silent.

Next morning at breakfast he was himself again, and if he had any
knowledge whatever of his actions while he was drunk, he effectually
concealed it from Joan.

Later, when Joan went outside to take her usual morning exercise, she
was interested to see a rider tearing up the slope on a foam-flecked
horse. Men shouted at him from the cabins and then followed without
hats or coats. Bate Wood dropped Joan's saddle and called to Kells. The
bandit came hurriedly out.

"Blicky!" he exclaimed, and then he swore under his breath in elation.

"Shore is Blicky!" said Wood, and his unusually mild eyes snapped with a
glint unpleasant for Joan to see.

The arrival of this Blicky appeared to be occasion for excitement and
Joan recalled the name as belonging to one of Kells's trusted men. He
swung his leg and leaped from his saddle as the horse plunged to a halt.
Blicky was a lean, bronzed young man, scarcely out of his teens, but
there were years of hard life in his face. He slapped the dust in little
puffs from his gloves. At sight of Kells he threw the gloves aloft and
took no note of them when they fell. "STRIKE!" he called, piercingly.

"No!" ejaculated Kells, intensely.

Bate Wood let out a whoop which was answered by the men hurrying up the
slope.

"Been on--for weeks!" panted Blicky.