of the cabin; she could hear the low voices, but seldom what was
said; she could hear these night prowlers as they departed.
Afterward Kells would have the lights lit, and then Joan could see
into the cabin. Was that dark, haggard man Kells? She saw him take
little buckskin sacks full of gold-dust and hide them under the
floor. Then he would pace the room in his old familiar manner, like
a caged tiger. Later his mood usually changed with the advent of
Wood and Pearce and Smith and Cleve, who took turns at guard and
going down into camp. Then Kells would join them in a friendly game
for small stakes. Gambler though he was, he refused to allow any
game there that might lead to heavy wagering. From the talk
sometimes Joan learned that he played for exceedingly large stakes
with gamblers and prosperous miners, usually with the same result--a
loss. Sometimes he won, however, and then he would crow over Pearce
and Smith, and delight in telling them how cunningly he had played.

Jim Cleve had his bed up under the bulge of bluff, in a sheltered
nook. Kells had appeared to like this idea, for some reason relative
to his scout system, which he did not explain. And Cleve was happy
about it because this arrangement left him absolutely free to have
his nightly rendezvous with Joan at her window, sometime between
dark and midnight. Her bed was right under the window: if awake she
could rest on her knees and look out; and if she was asleep he could
thrust a slender stick between the boards to awaken her. But the
fact was that Joan lived for these stolen meetings, and unless he
could not come until very late she waited wide-eyed and listening
for him. Then, besides, as long as Kells was stirring in the cabin
she spent her time spying upon him.

Jim Cleve had gone to an unfrequented part of the gulch, for no