strange feeling that somehow recalled the California days. Her legs were
weak under her; a hot anger labored under her breast; she had to drag
her reluctant feet across the room. Her spirit sank, and then leaped. It
whispered that looks and words and touches could only hurt and shame
her for this hour of her evil plight. They must rouse her resistance and
cunning wit. It was a fact that she was helpless for the present. But
she still lived, and her love was infinite.

Fresno was there, throwing dice with two soldiers. To his ugliness had
been added something that had robbed his face of the bronze tinge
of outdoor life and had given it red and swollen lines and shades of
beastly greed. Benton had made a bad man worse.

Mull was there, heavier than when he had ruled the grading-camp, sodden
with drink, thick-lipped and red-cheeked, burly, brutal, and still
showing in every action and loud word the bully. He was whirling a wheel
and rolling a ball and calling out in his heavy voice. With him was a
little, sallow-faced man, like a wolf, with sneaky, downcast eyes and
restless hands. He answered to the name of Andy. These two were engaged
in fleecing several blue-shirted, half-drunken spikers.

Durade was playing faro with four other men, or at least there were that
number seated with him. One, whose back was turned toward Allie, wore
black, and looked and seemed different from the others. He did not talk
nor drink. Evidently his winning aggravated Durade. Presently Durade
addressed the man as Jones.

Then there were several others standing around, dividing their attention
between Allie and the gamblers. The door opened occasionally, and each
time a different man entered, held a moment's whispered conversation
with Durade, and then went out. These men were of the same villainous
aspect that characterized Fresno. Durade had surrounded himself with
lieutenants and comrades who might be counted upon to do anything.

Allie was not long in gathering this fact, nor that there were subtle
signs of suspicion among the gamesters. Most of them had gotten under
the influence of drink that Durade kept ordering. Evidently he furnished
this liquor free and with a purpose.

The afternoon's play ended shortly. So far as Allie could see, Jones,
the man in black, a pale, thin-lipped, cold-eyed gambler, was the only
guest to win. Durade's manner was not pleasant while he paid over his
debts. Durade always had been a poor loser.

"Jones