ause you're honest!"

"I don't understand," replied Cleve, slowly.

"Jim, you rode into Cabin Gulch, and you raised some trouble. But you
were no bandit. You joined my Legion, but you've never become a bandit.
Here you've been an honest miner. That suited my plan and it helped.
But it's got so it doesn't suit my men. You work every day hard. You've
struck it rich. You're well thought of in Alder Creek. You've never done
a dishonest thing. Why, you wouldn't turn a crooked trick in a card game
for a sack full of gold. This has hurt you with my men. They can't see
as I see, that you're as square as you are game. They see you're an
honest miner. They believe you've got into a clique--that you've given
us away. I don't blame Pearce or any of my men. This is a time when
men's intelligence, if they have any, doesn't operate. Their brains
are on fire. They see gold and whisky and blood, and they feel gold
and whisky and blood. That's all. I'm glad that the gang gives you the
benefit of a doubt and a chance to stand by me."

"A chance!"

"Yes. They've worked out a job for you alone. Will you undertake it?"

"I'll have to," replied Cleve.

"You certainly will if you want the gang to justify my faith in you.
Once you pull off a crooked deal, they'll switch and swear by you. Then
we'll get together, all of us, and plan what to do about Gulden and
his outfit. They'll run our heads, along with their own, right into the
noose."

"What is this--this job?" labored Cleve. He was sweating now and his
hair hung damp over his brow. He lost that look which had made him a
bold man and seemed a boy again, weak, driven, bewildered.

Kells averted his gaze before speaking again. He hated to force this
task upon Cleve. Joan felt, in the throbbing pain of the moment, that if
she never had another reason to like this bandit, she would like him for
the pity he showed.

"Do you know a miner named Creede?" asked Kells, rapidly.

"A husky chap, short, broad, something like Gulden for shape, only not
so big--fellow with a fierce red beard?" asked Cleve.

"I never saw him," replied Kells. "But Pearce has. How does Cleve's
description fit Creede?"

"He's got his man spotted," answered Pearce.

"All right, that's settled," went on Kells, warming to his subject.
"This fellow Creede wears a heavy belt of gold. Blicky never makes a
mistake. Creede's partner left on yesterday's stage for Bannack.
He'll be gone a few days. Creede is a hard worke