was silly, just for the sake of a laugh, to let the old lover
learn the face of his secret rival. It was one of those early unimagined
nails people sometimes drive in their own coffins. An ancient series of
events followed: continued abject faith and passion on the miner's part;
continued presents of dust from him to the lady; on her part continued
trips to Folsom, a lessened caution, and a brag of manner based upon her
very just popularity at the Gap; next, Drylyn's first sickening dawn of
doubt, jealousy equipping him with a new and alien slyness; the final
accident of his seeing the shot-gun messenger on his very first visit to
the Gap come out of the Gazelle's tent so early in the morning; the
instant blaze of truth and fury that turned Drylyn to a clever,
calculating wild beast. So now her throat was cut, and she was good and
dead. He had managed well. The whole game had shown instantly like a
picture on his brain, complete at a stroke, with every move clear. He
had let the man go down the hill--just for the present. The camp had got
up, eaten its breakfast, and gone out to the ditches, Drylyn along with
the rest. Owing to its situation, neighbors could not see him presently
leave his claim and walk back quickly to the Gap at an hour when the
dance-hall was likely to be lonely. He had ready what to say if the
other women should be there; but they were away at the creek below,
washing, and the luxurious, unsuspecting Gazelle was in bed in her own
tent, not yet disturbed. The quiet wild beast walked through the
deserted front entrance of the hall in the most natural manner, and so
behind among the empty bottles, and along the plank into the tent; then,
after a while, out again. She would never be disturbed now, and the wild
beast was back at his claim, knee-deep, and busy among the digging and
the wetness, in another pair of overalls just like the ones that were
now under some stones at the bottom of a mud-puddle. And then one very
bad long scream came up to the ditches, and Drylyn knew the women had
returned from their washing.

He raised his head mechanically to listen. He had never been a bad man;
had never wished to hurt anybody in his life before that he could
remember; but as he pondered upon it in his slow, sure brain, he knew
that he was glad he had done this, and was going to do more. He was
going to follow those tracks pretty soon, and finish the whole job with
his own hand. They had fooled him, and had take