"But Jim--oh, Jim!" she moaned. "You're as wild as these bandits.
You can't see your danger. ... That terrible Gulden! ... You don't
mean to meet him--fight him? ... Say you won't!"

"Joan, I'll meet him--and I'll KILL him," whispered Jim, with a
piercing intensity. "You never knew I was swift with a gun. Well, I
didn't, either, till I struck the border. I know now. Kells is the
only man I've seen who can throw a gun quicker than I. Gulden is a
big bull. He's slow. I'll get into a card-game with him--I'll
quarrel over gold--I'll smash him as I did once before--and this
time I won't shoot off his ear. I've my nerve now. Kells swore he'd
do anything for me if I stand by him now. I will. You never can
tell. Kells is losing his grip. And my standing by him may save
you."

Joan drew a deep breath. Jim Cleve had indeed come into manhood. She
crushed down her womanish fears and rose dauntless to the occasion.
She would never weaken him by a lack of confidence.

"Jim, Kells's plot draws on to a fatal close," she said, earnestly.
"I feel it. He's doomed. He doesn't realize that yet. He hopes and
plots on. When he falls, then he'll be great--terrible. We must get
away before that comes. What you said about Creede has given me an
idea. Suppose we plan to slip out some night soon, and stop the
stage next day on its way to Bannack?"

"I've thought of that. But we must have horses."

"Let's go afoot. We'd be safer. There'd not be so much to plan."