While Bate Wood began preparations for supper, and Cleve built the

fire, and Smith looked after the horses, Kells and Pearce stepped

off the ground where the cabin was to be erected. They selected a

level bench down upon which a huge cracked rock, as large as a

house, had rolled. The cabin was to be backed up against this stone,

and in the rear, under cover of it, a secret exit could be made and

hidden. The bandit wanted two holes to his burrow.

When the group sat down to the meal the gulch was full of sunset

colors. And, strangely, they were all some shade of gold. Beautiful

golden veils, misty, ethereal, shone in rays across the gulch from

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the broken ramparts; and they seemed so brilliant, so rich,

prophetic of the treasures of the hills. But that golden sunset

changed. The sun went down red, leaving a sinister shadow over the

gulch, growing darker and darker. Joan saw Cleve thoughtfully

watching this transformation, and she wondered if he had caught the

subtle mood of nature. For whatever had been the hope and

brightness, the golden glory of this new Eldorado, this sudden

uprising Alder Creek with its horde of brave and toiling miners, the

truth was that Jack Kells and Gulden had ridden into the camp and

the sun had gone down red. Joan knew that great mining-camps were

always happy, rich, free, lucky, honest places till the fame of gold

brought evil men. And she had not the slightest doubt that the sun

of Alder Creek's brief and glad day had set forever.

Twilight was stealing down from the hills when Kells announced to

his party: "Bate, you and Jesse keep camp. Pearce, you look out for

any of the gang. But meet in the dark! ... Cleve, you can go with

me." Then he turned to Joan. "Do you want to go with us to see the

sights or would you rather stay here?"

"I'd like to go, if only I didn't look so--so dreadful in this

suit," she replied.

Kells laughed, and the camp-fire glare lighted the smiling faces of

Pearce and Smith.

"Why, you'll not be seen. And you look far from dreadful."

"Can't you give me a--a longer coat?" faltered Joan.

Cleve heard, and without speaking he went to his saddle and unrolled

his pack. Inside a slicker he had a gray coat. Joan had seen it many

a time, and it brought a pang with memories of Hoadley. Had that

been years ago? Cleve handed this coat to Joan.

"Thank you," she said.




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