"It's mighty strange," said Joan.

"I reckon all about Mr. Kells is some strange these days. Red Pearce
had it correct. Kells is a-goin' to split on you!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Wal, he'll go one way an' the gang another."

"Why?" asked Joan, earnestly.

"Miss, there's some lot of reasons," said Wood, deliberately. "Fust,
he did for Halloway an' Bailey, not because they wanted to treat you
as he meant to, but just because he wanted to be alone. We're all
wise thet you shot him--an' thet you wasn't his wife. An' since then
we've seen him gradually lose his nerve. He organized his Legion an'
makes his plan to run this Alder Creek red. He still hangs on to
you. He'd kill any man thet batted an eye at you. ... An' through
all this, because he's not Jack Kells of old, he's lost his pull
with the gang. Sooner or later he'll split."

"Have I any real friends among you?" asked Joan.

"Wal, I reckon."

"Are you my friend, Bate Wood?" she went on in sweet wistfulness.

The grizzled old bandit removed his pipe and looked at her with a
glint in his bloodshot eyes,