ionate anger had burned itself out. In
anticipation, perhaps, of what she was about to do, she looked straight
ahead of her into space. It was not because she was assailed by some
transient emotion to forswear her treacherous desire for vengeance; she
had no illusion of that kind. Too vividly she recalled the road agent's
indifferent manner at their last interview for any feeling to dwell in
her heart other than hatred. It was that she was summoning to appear a
vision scarcely less attractive, however pregnant with tragedy, than
that of seeing herself avenged: a gay, extravagant career in Mexico or
Spain which the reward would procure for her. That was what she was
seeing, and with a pious wish for its confirmation she began to make
herself a fresh cigarette, rolling it dexterously with her white,
delicate fingers, and not until her task was accomplished and her full,
red lips were sending forth tiny clouds of smoke did she announce:

"Ramerrez was in Cloudy Mountain to-night."

But however much of a surprise this assertion was to both men, neither
gave vent to an exclamation. Instead Rance regarded his elegantly booted
feet; Ashby looked hard at the woman as if he would read the truth in
her eyes; while as for Nina, she continued to puff away at her little
cigarette after the manner of one that has appealed not in vain to the
magic power which can paint out the past and fill the blank with the
most beautiful of dreams.

The Wells Fargo man was the first to make any comment; he asked:

"You know this?" And then as she surveyed them through a scented cloud
and bowed her head, he added: "How do you know it?"

"That I shall not tell you," replied the woman, firmly.

Ashby made an impatient movement towards her with the question:

"Where was he?"

"Oh, come, Ashby!" put in Rance, speaking for the first time. "She's
putting up a game on us."

In a flash Nina wheeled around and with eyes that blazed advanced to the
table where the Sheriff was sitting. Indeed, there was something so
tigerish about the woman that the Sheriff, in alarm, quickly pushed back
his chair.

"I am not lying, Jack Rance." There was an evil glitter in her eye as
she watched a sarcastic smile playing around his lips. "Oh, yes, I know
you--you are the Sheriff," and so saying a peal of contemptuous
merriment burst from her, "and Ramerrez was in the camp not less than
two hours ago."

Ashby could hardly restrain his excitement.

"And you saw h