far as I could tell, there wasn't a man present who did not show
admiration for him. I saw that dead gambler kicked."

"Jim!" breathed Joan. "He killed him--just for that?"

"Just for that--the bloody devil!"

"But still--what for? Oh, it was cold-blooded murder."

"No, an even break. Kells made the gambler go for his gun. I'll have
to say that for Kells."

"It doesn't change the thing. I'd forgotten what a monster he is."

"Joan, his motive is plain. This new gold-camp has not reached the
blood-spilling stage yet. It hadn't, I should say. The news of this
killing will fly. It'll focus minds on this claim-buyer, Blight. His
deed rings true--like that of an honest man with a daughter to
protect. He'll win sympathy. Then he talks as if he were prosperous.
Soon he'll be represented in this changing, growing population as a
man of importance. He'll play the card for all he's worth.
Meanwhile, secretly he'll begin to rob the miners. It'll be hard to
suspect him. His plot is just like the man--great!"

"Jim, oughtn't we tell?" whispered Joan, trembling.

"I've thought of that. Somehow I seem to feel guilty. But whom on
earth could we tell? We wouldn't dare speak here. ... Remember--
you're a prisoner. I'm supposed to be a bandit--one of the Border
Legion. How to get away from here and save our lives--that's what