it could be made and hidden. The bandit wanted
two holes to his burrow.

When the group sat down to the meal the gulch was full of sunset colors.
And, strangely, they were all some shade of gold. Beautiful golden
veils, misty, ethereal, shone in rays across the gulch from the broken
ramparts; and they seemed so brilliant, so rich, prophetic of the
treasures of the hills. But that golden sunset changed. The sun went
down red, leaving a sinister shadow over the gulch, growing darker and
darker. Joan saw Cleve thoughtfully watching this transformation, and
she wondered if he had caught the subtle mood of nature. For whatever
had been the hope and brightness, the golden glory of this new Eldorado,
this sudden uprising Alder Creek with its horde of brave and toiling
miners, the truth was that Jack Kells and Gulden had ridden into the
camp and the sun had gone down red. Joan knew that great mining-camps
were always happy, rich, free, lucky, honest places till the fame of
gold brought evil men. And she had not the slightest doubt that the sun
of Alder Creek's brief and glad day had set forever.

Twilight was stealing down from the hills when Kells announced to his
party: "Bate, you and Jesse keep camp. Pearce, you look out for any of
the gang. But meet in the dark!... Cleve, you can go with me." Then he
turned to Joan. "Do you want to go with us to see the sights or would
you rather stay here?"

"I'd like to go, if only I didn't look so--so dreadful in this suit,"
she replied.

Kells laughed, and the camp-fire glare lighted the smiling faces of
Pearce and Smith.

"Why, you'll not be seen. And you look far from dreadful."

"Can't you give me a--a longer coat?" faltered Joan.

Cleve heard, and without speaking he went to his saddle and unrolled his
pack. Inside a slicker he had a gray coat. Joan had seen it many a time,
and it brought a pang with memories of Hoadley. Had that been years ago?
Cleve handed this coat to Joan.

"Thank you," she said.

Kells held the coat for her and she slipped into it. She seemed lost. It
was long, coming way below her hips, and for the first time in days she
felt she was Joan Randle again.

"Modesty is all very well in a woman, but it's not always
becoming," remarked Kells. "Turn up your collar.... Pull down your
hat--farther--There! If you won't go as a youngster now I'll eat Dandy
Dale's outfit and get you silk dresses. Ha-ha!"

Joan was not deceived by his humor. He might like to