, thinking and suffering, while the strange,
morbid desire to watch Kells and Gulden grew stronger and stronger,
until it was irresistible. Her fate, her life, lay in the balance
between these two men. She divined that.

She returned to her vantage-point, and as she glanced through she
vibrated to a shock. The change that had begun subtly, intangibly, was
now a terrible and glaring difference. That great quantity of gold, the
equal chance of every gambler, the marvelous possibilities presented to
evil minds, and the hell that hid in that black bottle--these had made
playthings of every bandit except Gulden. He was exactly the same as
ever. But to see the others sent a chill of ice along Joan's veins.
Kells was white and rapt. Plain to see--he had won! Blicky was wild with
rage. Jesse Smith sat darker, grimmer, but no longer cool. There was
hate in the glance he fastened upon Kells as he bet. Beady Jones and
Braverman showed an inflamed and impotent eagerness to take their turn.
Budd sat in the game now, and his face wore a terrible look. Joan could
not tell what passion drove him, but she knew he was a loser. Pike and
Bossert likewise were losers, and stood apart, sullen, watching with
sick, jealous rage. Jim Cleve had reacted to the strain, and he was
white, with nervous, clutching hands and piercing glances. And the game
went on with violent slap of card or pound of fist upon the table, with
the slide of a bag of gold or the little, sodden thump of its weight,
with savage curses at loss and strange, raw exultation at gain, with
hurry and violence--more than all, with the wildness of the hour and
the wildness of these men, drawing closer and closer to the dread climax
that from the beginning had been foreshadowed.

Suddenly Budd rose and bent over the table, his cards clutched in a
shaking hand, his face distorted and malignant, his eyes burning at
Kells. Passionately he threw the cards down.

"There!" he yelled, hoarsely, and he stilled the noise.

"No good!" replied Kells, tauntingly. "Is there any other game you
play?"

Budd bent low to see the cards in Kells's hand, and then, straightening
his form, he gazed with haggard fury at the winner. "You've done me!...
I'm cleaned--I'm busted!" he raved.

"You were easy. Get out of the game," replied Kells, with an exultant
contempt. It was not the passion of play that now obsessed him, but the
passion of success.

"I said you done me," burst out Budd, insanely. "Yo