to Plimsoll across a gulf that
could never be bridged. He watched the flame, pale in the sunshine,
watched it lift to the cigarette and then a puff of smoke came into his
face as Sandy flung away the burnt stick and turned on his heel. Murder
stirred dully in Plimsoll's brain at the sneers he surmised rather than
read on the faces of his followers. His defeat was also theirs. But the
moment had gone. He knew he lacked the nerve. Sandy knew it and had
turned his back on him.

His prestige was gone. His boon companions would talk about it. Mormon
gave Sandy back his second gun and Sandy slid it into the holster. He
exhaled the last puff of his cigarette before he spoke again to
Plimsoll.

"Sun-up, ter-morrer. You can send fo' yore stuff here any time you've a
mind to. Fo' a gamblin' man, Plimsoll, you're a damned pore judge of a
hand."

Plimsoll strode off down the hill alone. The men who had come with him
hesitated and then crossed the gulch. They had severed connections with
the J. P. brand for the time, at least. The three partners walked back
toward the tunnel.

"I saw the carkiss of a steer one time," said Sam, "that had been lyin'
on a sidehill fo' quite a spell. The coyotes an' the buzzards had been
at it, an' the wind an' weather had finished the job till there warn't
much mo'n hide an' some scattered bones. Mebbe a li'l' hair. But that
carkiss sure held mo' guts than Jim Plimsoll packs."

"He ain't through," said Mormon. "You didn't ought to give him till
sun-up, Sandy. Sun-down 'ud have been better. He's a mangy coyote, but
he's got brains an' he'll addle 'em figgerin' out some way to git even."

"I w'udn't wonder," answered Sandy. "Me, I'm goin' to do a li'l'
figgerin' too."

"We got to stay on the claims," said Sam. "If they happened to think of
it they might heave a stick of dynamite in our midst afteh it's good an'
dahk. A flyin' chunk of dynamite is a nasty thing to dodge, at that."

He spoke as dispassionately as if he had been discussing a display of
harmless fireworks. Sandy answered in the same tone.

"I don't think it likely, Sam. Camp knows, or will know, what's been
happenin'. If dynamite was thrown they'd sabe who did it an' I don't
believe the crowd 'ud stand for it. Jest the same it 'ud sure surprise
me if we didn't git some sort of a shivaree pahty afteh nightfall. I
w'udn't wonder if Jim Plimsoll forgets to send fo' that tent an' stuff
of his. Hope he does."

"What do we want with i