eede. But I can excuse
that. He lost his nerve. He's only a youngster. To knife a man in his
sleep--that was too much for Jim!... And I'm glad! I see it all now.
Jim's swapped his big nugget for Creede's belt. And in the bargain
he exacted that Creede hit the trail out of camp. You happened to see
Creede and went after him yourself.... Well, I don't see where you've
any kick coming. For you've ten times the money in Cleve's nugget that
there was in a share of Creede's gold."

"That's not my kick," declared Gulden. "What you say about Cleve may be
true. But I don't believe it. And the gang is sore. Things have leaked
out. We're watched. We're not welcome in the gambling-places any more.
Last night I was not allowed to sit in the game at Belcher's."

"You think Cleve has squealed?" queried Kells.

"Yes."

"I'll bet you every ounce of dust I've got that you're wrong," declared
Kells. "A straight, square bet against anything you want to put up!"

Kells's ringing voice was nothing if not convincing.

"Appearances are against Cleve," growled Gulden, dubiously. Always he
had been swayed by the stronger mind of the leader.

"Sure they are," agreed Kells.

"Then what do you base your confidence on?"

"Just my knowledge of men. Jim Cleve wouldn't squeal.... Gulden, did
anybody tell you that?"

"Yes," replied Gulden, slowly. "Red Pearce."

"Pearce was a liar," said Kells, bitterly. "I shot him for lying to me."

Gulden stared. His men muttered and gazed at one another and around the
cabin.

"Pearce told me you set Cleve to kill me," suddenly spoke up the giant.

If he expected to surprise Kells he utterly failed.

"That's another and bigger lie," replied the bandit leader, disgustedly.
"Gulden, do you think my mind's gone?"

"Not quite," replied Gulden, and he seemed as near a laugh as was
possible for him.

"Well, I've enough mind left not to set a boy to kill such a man as
you."

Gulden might have been susceptible to flattery. He turned to his men.
They, too, had felt Kells's subtle influence. They were ready to veer
round like weather-vanes.

"Red Pearce has cashed, an' he can't talk for himself," said Beady
Jones, as if answering to the unspoken thought of all.

"Men, between you and me, I had more queer notions about Pearce than
Cleve," announced Gulden, gruffly. "But I never said so because I had no
proof."

"Red shore was sore an' strange lately," added Chick Williams. "Me an'
him were pretty thi