other present was Bate Wood, and whatever had happened had in no
wise affected him. These bandits were all waiting. Presently quick
footsteps on the path outside caused them all to look toward the
door. That tread was familiar to Joan, and suddenly her mouth was
dry, her tongue stiff. What was Jim Cleve coming to meet? How sharp
and decided his walk! Then his dark form crossed the bar of light
outside the door, and he entered, bold and cool, and with a
weariness that must have been simulated.

"Howdy boys!" he said.

Only Kells greeted him in response. The bandit eyed him curiously.
The others added suspicion to their glances.

"Did you hear Red's yell?" queried Kells, presently.

"I'd have heard that roar if I'd been dead," replied Cleve, bluntly.
"And I didn't like it! ... I was coming up the road and I heard
Pearce yell. I'll bet every man in camp heard it."

"How'd you know Pearce yelled for you?"

"I recognized his voice."

Cleve's manner recalled to Joan her first sight of him over in Cabin
Gulch. He was not so white or haggard, but his eyes were piercing,
and what had once been recklessness now seemed to be boldness. He
deliberately studied Pearce. Joan trembled, for she divined what
none of these robbers knew, and it was that Pearce was perilously
near death. It was there for Joan to read in Jim's dark glance.