"Was it fair of you?" asked Joan.
"Yes. Flash is a crooked gambler. I'd rather be a bandit. ...
Besides, all's fair in love! And I was thinking of you when I saved
Kells!"
"Flash will be looking for you," said Joan, fearfully.
"Likely. And if he finds me he wants to be quick. But Kells will
drive him out of camp or kill him. I tell you, Kells is the biggest
man in Alder Creek. There's talk of office--a mayor and all that--
and if the miners can forget gold long enough they'll elect Kells.
But the riffraff, these bloodsuckers who live off the miners, they'd
rather not have any office in Alder Creek."
And upon another night Cleve in serious and somber mood talked about
the Border Legion and its mysterious workings. The name had found
prominence, no one knew how, and Alder Creek knew no more peaceful
sleep. This Legion was supposed to consist of a strange, secret band
of unknown bandits and road-agents, drawing its members from all
that wild and trackless region called the border. Rumor gave it a
leader of cunning and ruthless nature. It operated all over the
country at the same time, and must have been composed of numerous
smaller bands, impossible to detect. Because its victims never lived
to tell how or by whom they had been robbed! This Legion worked
slowly and in the dark. It did not bother to rob for little gain. It
had strange and unerring information of large quantities of gold-
dust. Two prospectors going out on the Bannack road, packing fifty
pounds of gold, were found shot to pieces. A miner named Black, who
would not trust his gold to the stage-express, and who left Adler
Creek against advice, was never seen or heard of again. Four other
miners of the camp, known to carry considerable gold, were robbed
and killed at night on their way to their cabins. And another was
found dead in his bed. Robbers had crept to his tent, slashed the
canvas, murdered him while he slept, and made off with his belt of
gold.
An evil day of blood had fallen upon Alder Creek. There were
terrible and implacable men in the midst of the miners, by day at
honest toil, learning who had gold, and murdering by night. The camp
had never been united, but this dread fact disrupted any possible
unity. Every man, or every little group of men, distrusted the
other, watched and spied and lay awake at night. But the robberies
continued, one every few days, and each one left no trace. For dead
men could not talk.