have been measured by the menace he showed.

The gang became suddenly quiet.

"Now--what's up?" demanded Kells.

"Keep your shirt on, boss," replied Pearce, with good humor. "There
ain't much wrong.... Cleve, here, throwed a gun on Gulden, that's all."

Kells gave a slight start, barely perceptible, but the intensity of it,
and a fleeting tigerish gleam across his face, impressed Joan with the
idea that he felt a fiendish joy. Her own heart clamped in a cold amaze.

"Gulden!" Kells's exclamation was likewise a passionate query.

"No, he ain't cashed," replied Pearce. "You can't kill that bull so
easy. But he's shot up some. He's layin' over at Beard's. Reckon you'd
better go over an' dress them shots."

"He can rot before I doctor him," replied Kells. "Where's Bate Wood?...
Bate, you can take my kit and go fix Gulden up. And now, Red, what was
all the roar about?"

"Reckon that was Gulden's particular pards tryin' to mix it with Cleve
an' Cleve tryin' to mix it with them--an' ME in between!... I'm here to
say, boss, that I had a time stavin' off a scrap."

During this rapid exchange between Kells and his lieutenant, Jim Cleve
sat on the edge of the table, one dusty boot swinging so that his spur
jangled, a wisp of a cigarette in his lips. His face was white except
where there seemed to be bruises under his eyes. Joan had never seen him
look like this. She guessed that he had been drunk--perhaps was still
drunk. That utterly abandoned face Joan was so keen to read made her
bite her tongue to keep from crying out. Yes, Jim was lost.

"What'd they fight about?" queried Kells.

"Ask Cleve," replied Pearce. "Reckon I'd just as lief not talk any more
about him."

Then Kells turned to Cleve and stepped before him. Somehow these two men
face to face thrilled Joan to her depths. They presented such contrasts.
Kells was keen, imperious, vital, strong, and complex, with an
unmistakable friendly regard for this young outcast. Cleve seemed aloof,
detached, indifferent to everything, with a white, weary, reckless
scorn. Both men were far above the gaping ruffians around them.

"Cleve, why'd you draw on Gulden?" asked Kells, sharply.

"That's my business," replied Cleve, slowly, and with his piercing eyes
on Kells he blew a long, thin, blue stream of smoke upward.

"Sure.... But I remember what you asked me the other day--about Gulden.
Was that why?"

"Nope," replied Cleve. "This was my affair."

"All right. But I