Joan watched and listened from her blankets, under a leafy tree,
some few yards from the camp-fire. Once Kells turned to see how far
distant she was, and then, lowering his voice, he told a story. The
others laughed. Pearce followed with another, and he, too, took care
that Joan could not hear. They grew closer for the mirth, and Smith,
who evidently was a jolly fellow, set them to roaring. Jim Cleve
laughed with them.
"Say, Jim, you're getting over it," remarked Kells.
"Over what?"
Kells paused, rather embarrassed for a reply, as evidently in the
humor of the hour he had spoken a thought better left unsaid. But
there was no more forbidding atmosphere about Cleve. He appeared to
have rounded to good-fellowship after a moody and quarrelsome
drinking spell.
"Why, over what drove you out here--and gave me a lucky chance at
you," replied Kells, with a constrained laugh.
"Oh, you mean the girl? ... Sure, I'm getting over that, except when
I drink."
"Tell us, Jim," said Kells, curiously.
"Aw, you'll give me the laugh!" retorted Cleve.
"No, we won't unless your story's funny."
"You can gamble it wasn't funny," put in Red Pearce.
They all coaxed him, yet none of them, except Kells, was
particularly curious; it was just that hour when men of their ilk
were lazy and comfortable and full fed and good-humored round the
warm, blazing camp-fire.
"All right," replied Cleve, and apparently, for all his
complaisance, a call upon memory had its pain. "I'm from Montana.
Range-rider in winter and in summer I prospected. Saved quite a
little money, in spite of a fling now and then at faro and whisky. ...
Yes, there was a girl, I guess yes. She was pretty. I had a bad
case over her. Not long ago I left all I had--money and gold and
things--in her keeping, and I went prospecting again. We were to get
married on my return. I stayed out six months, did well, and got
robbed of all my dust."
Cleve was telling this fabrication in a matter-of-fact way, growing
a little less frank as he proceeded, and he paused while he lifted
sand and let it drift through his fingers, watching it curiously.
All the men were interested and Kells hung on every word.
"When I got back," went on Cleve, "my girl had married another
fellow. She'd given him all I left with her. Then I got drunk. While
I was drunk they put up a job on me. It was her word that disgraced
me and run me out of town. ... So I struck west and drifted to the
border."