Then we'll get together, all of us, and plan what to do about Gulden
and his outfit. They'll run our heads, along with their own, right
into the noose."

"What is this--this job?" labored Cleve. He was sweating now and his
hair hung damp over his brow. He lost that look which had made him a
bold man and seemed a boy again, weak, driven, bewildered.

Kells averted his gaze before speaking again. He hated to force this
task upon Cleve. Joan felt, in the throbbing pain of the moment,
that if she never had another reason to like this bandit, she would
like him for the pity he showed.

"Do you know a miner named Creede?" asked Kells, rapidly.

"A husky chap, short, broad, something like Gulden for shape, only
not so big--fellow with a fierce red beard?" asked Cleve.

"I never saw him," replied Kells. "But Pearce has. How does Cleve's
description fit Creede?"

"He's got his man spotted," answered Pearce.

"All right, that's settled," went on Kells, warming to his subject.
"This fellow Creede wears a heavy belt of gold. Blicky never makes a
mistake. Creede's partner left on yesterday's stage for Bannack.
He'll be gone a few days. Creede is a hard worker-one of the
hardest. Sometimes he goes to sleep at his supper. He's not the
drinking kind. He's slow, thick-headed. The best time for this job
will be early in the evening--just as soon as his lights are out.