"Wal, I always said thet youngster was slick," replied Budd.

"Will you accuse him to his face?"

"I shore will. Glad of the chance."

"Then you're drunk or just a fool."

"Thet so?"

"Yes, that's so," flashed Kells. "You don't know Cleve. He'll kill

you. He's lightning with a gun. Do you suppose I'd set him on

Gulden's trail if I wasn't sure? Why I wouldn't care to--"

"Here comes Cleve," interrupted Pearce, sharply.

Rapid footsteps sounded without. Then Joan saw Jim Cleve darken the

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doorway. He looked keen and bold. Upon sight of Joan in her changed

attire he gave a slight start.

"Budd, here's Cleve," called out Red Pearce, mockingly. "Now, say it

to his face!"

In the silence that ensued Pearce's spirit dominated the moment with

its cunning, hate, and violence. But Kells savagely leaped in front

of the men, still master of the situation.

"Red, what's got into you?" he hissed. "You're cross-grained lately.

You're sore. Any more of this and I'll swear you're a disorganizer. ...

Now, Budd, you keep your mouth shut. And you, Cleve, you pay no

heed to Budd if he does gab. ... We're in bad and all the men have

chips on their shoulders. We've got to stop fighting among

ourselves."

"Wal, boss, there's a power of sense in a good example," dryly

remarked Bate Wood. His remark calmed Kells and eased the situation.

"Jim, did you meet Gulden?" queried Kells, eagerly.

"Can't find him anywhere," replied Cleve. "I've loafed in the

saloons and gambling-hells where he hangs out. But he didn't show

up. He's in camp. I know that for a fact. He's laying low for some

reason."

"Gulden's been tipped off, Jim," said Kells, earnestly. "He told

Bate Wood you were out to kill him."

"I'm glad. It wasn't a fair hand you were going to deal him,"

responded Cleve. "But who gave my job away? Someone in this gang

wants me done for--more than Gulden."

Cleve's flashing gaze swept over the motionless men and fixed

hardest upon Red Pearce. Pearce gave back hard look for hard look.

"Gulden told Oliver more," continued Kells, and he pulled Cleve

around to face him. "Gulden swore he saw Creede alive last night. ...

LATE LAST NIGHT!"

"That's funny," replied Cleve, without the flicker of an eyelash.

"It's not funny. But it's queer. Gulden hasn't the moral sense to

lie. Bate says he wants to make trouble between you and me. I doubt

that. I don't believe Gulden could see a ghost, either. He's simply

mistaken some miner for Creede."




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