The Border Legion by Zane Grey
19
The weary, dusty cavalcade halted on the level bench before the bandit'scabin. Gulden boomed a salute to Kells. The other men shouted greeting.In the wild exultation of triumph they still held him as chief.But Kells was not deceived. He even passed by that heavily laden,gold-weighted saddle. He had eyes only for Joan.
"Girl, I never was so glad to see any one!" he exclaimed in husky amaze."How did it happen? I never--"
Jim Cleve leaned over to interrupt Kells. "It was great, Kells--thatidea of yours putting us in the stagecoach you meant to hold up," saidCleve, with a swift, meaning glance. "But it nearly was the end of us.You didn't catch up. The gang didn't know we were inside, and they shotthe old stage full of holes."
"Aha! So that's it," replied Kells, slowly. "But the main point is--youbrought her through. Jim, I can't ever square that."
"Oh, maybe you can," laughed Cleve, as he dismounted.
Suddenly Kells became aware of Joan's exhaustion and distress. "Joan,you're not hurt?" he asked in swift anxiety.
"No, only played out."
"You look it. Come." He lifted her out of the saddle and, half carrying,half leading her, took her into the cabin, and through the big room toher old apartment. How familiar it seemed to Joan! A ground-squirrelfrisked along a chink between the logs, chattering welcome. The placewas exactly as Joan had left it.
Kells held Joan a second, as if he meant to embrace her, but he did not."Lord, it's good to see you! I never expected to again.... But youcan tell me all about yourself after you rest.... I was just havingbreakfast. I'll fetch you some."
"Were you alone here?" asked Joan.
"Yes. I was with Bate and Handy--"
"Hey, Kells!" roared the gang, from the outer room.
Kells held aside the blanket curtain so that Joan was able to seethrough the door. The men were drawn up in a half-circle round thetable, upon which were the bags of gold.
Kells whistled low. "Joan, there'll be trouble now," he said, "but don'tyou fear. I'll not forget you."
Despite his undoubted sincerity Joan felt a subtle change in him, andthat, coupled with the significance of his words, brought a return ofthe strange dread. Kells went out and dropped the curtain behind him.Joan listened.
"Share and share alike!" boomed the giant Gulden.
"Say!" called Kells, gaily, "aren't you fellows going to eat first?"
Shouts of derision greeted his sally.
"I'll eat gold-dust," added Budd.
"Have it your own way, men," responded Kells. "Blicky, get the scalesdown off of that shelf.... Say, I'll bet anybody I'll have the most dustby sundown."
More shouts of derision were flung at him.
"Who wants to gamble now?"
"Boss, I'll take thet bet."
"Haw! Haw! You won't look so bright by sundown."
Then followed a moment's silence, presently broken by a clink of metalon the table.
"Boss, how'd you ever git wind of this big shipment of gold?" askedJesse Smith.
"I've had it spotted. But Handy Oliver was the scout."
"We'll shore drink to Handy!" exclaimed one of the bandits.
"An' who was sendin' out this shipment?" queried the curious Smith."Them bags are marked all the same."
"It was a one-man shipment," replied Kells. "Sent out by the boss minerof Alder Creek. They call him Overland something."
That name brought Joan to her feet with a thrilling fire. Her uncle, oldBill Hoadley, was called "Overland." Was it possible that the banditsmeant him? It could hardly be; that name was a common one in themountains.
"Shore, I seen Overland lots of times," said Budd. "An' he got wise tomy watchin' him."
"Somebody tipped it off that the Legion was after his gold," went onKells. "I suppose we have Pearce to thank for that. But it worked outwell for us. The hell we raised there at the lynching must have throwna scare into Overland. He had nerve enough to try to send his dust toBannack on the very next stage. He nearly got away with it, too. For itwas only lucky accident that Handy heard the news."
The name Overland drew Joan like a magnet and she arose to take her oldposition, where she could peep in upon the bandits. One glance at JimCleve told her that he, too, had been excited by the name. Then itoccurred to Joan that her uncle could hardly have been at Alder Creekwithout Jim knowing it. Still, among thousands of men, all wild andtoiling and self-sufficient, hiding their identities, anything might bepossible. After a few moments, however, Joan leaned to the improbabilityof the man being her uncle.
Kells sat down before the table and Blicky stood beside him with thegold-scales. The other bandits lined up opposite. Jim Cleve stood to oneside, watching, brooding.
"You can't weigh it all on these scales," said Blicky.
"That's sure," replied Kells. "We'll divide the small bags first.... Tenshares--ten equal parts!... Spill out the bags. Blick. And hurry. Lookhow hungry Gulden looks!... Somebody cook your breakfast while we dividethe gold."
"Haw! Haw!"
"Ho! Ho!"
"Who wants to eat?"
The bandits were gay, derisive, scornful, eager, like a group of boys,half surly, half playful, at a game.
"Wal, I shore want to see my share weighted," drawled Budd.
Kells moved--his gun flashed--he slammed it hard upon the table.
"Budd, do you question my honesty?" he asked, quick and hard.
"No offense, boss. I was just talkin'."
That quick change of Kells's marked a subtle difference in the spirit ofthe bandits and the occasion. Gaiety and good humor and badinage ended.There were no more broad grins or friendly leers or coarse laughs.Gulden and his groups clustered closer to the table, quiet, intense,watchful, suspicious.
It did not take Kells and his assistant long to divide the smallerquantity of the gold.
"Here, Gulden," he said, and handed the giant a bag. Jesse....Bossert.... Pike.... Beady.... Braverman... "Blicky."
"Here, Jim Cleve, get in the game," he added, throwing a bag at Jim. Itwas heavy. It hit Jim with a thud and dropped to the ground. He stoopedto reach it.
"That leaves one for Handy and one for me," went on Kells. "Blicky,spill out the big bag."
Presently Joan saw a huge mound of dull, gleaming yellow. The color ofit leaped to the glinting eyes of the bandits. And it seemed to herthat a shadow hovered over them. The movements of Kells grew tense andhurried. Beads of sweat stood out upon his brow. His hands were notsteady.
Soon larger bags were distributed to the bandits. That broke thewaiting, the watchfulness, but not the tense eagerness. The bandits werenow like leashed hounds. Blicky leaned before Kells and hit the tablewith his fist.
"Boss, I've a kick comin'," he said.
"Come on with it," replied the leader.
"Ain't Gulden a-goin' to divide up thet big nugget?"
"He is if he's square."
A chorus of affirmatives from the bandits strengthened Kells'sstatement. Gulden moved heavily and ponderously, and he pushed some ofhis comrades aside to get nearer to Kells.
"Wasn't it my right to do a job by myself--when I wanted?" he demanded.
"No. I agreed to let you fight when you wanted. To kill a man when youliked!... That was the agreement."
"What'd I kill a man for?"
No one answered that in words, but the answer was there, in dark faces.
"I know what I meant," continued Gulden. "And I'm going to keep thisnugget."
There was a moment's silence. It boded ill to the giant.
"So--he declares himself," said Blicky, hotly. "Boss, what you saygoes."
"Let him keep it," declared Kells, scornfully. "I'll win it from him anddivide it with the gang."
That was received with hoarse acclaims by all except Gulden. He glaredsullenly. Kells stood up and shook a long finger in the giant's face.
"I'll win your nugget," he shouted. "I'll beat you at any game.... Icall your hand.... Now if you've got any nerve!"
"Come on!" boome
The bandits closed in around the table with sudden, hard violence, allcrowding for seats.
"I'm a-goin' to set in the game!" yelled Blicky.
"We'll all set in," declared Jesse Smith.
"Come on!" was Gulden's acquiescence.
"But we all can't play at once," protested Kells. "Let's make up twogames."
"Naw!"
"Some of you eat, then, while the others get cleaned out."
"Thet's it--cleaned out!" ejaculated Budd, meanly. "You seem to be sure,Kells. An' I guess I'll keep shady of thet game."
"That's twice for you, Budd," flashed the bandit leader. "Beware of thethird time!"
"Hyar, fellers, cut the cards fer who sets in an' who sets out," calledBlicky, and he slapped a deck of cards upon the table.
With grim eagerness, as if drawing lots against fate, the bandits bentover and drew cards. Budd, Braverman, and Beady Jones were the onesexcluded from the game.
"Beady, you fellows unpack those horses and turn them loose. And bringthe stuff inside," said Kells.
Budd showed a surly disregard, but the other two bandits got upwillingly and went out.
Then the game began, with only Cleve standing, looking on. The banditswere mostly silent; they moved their hands, and occasionally bentforward. It was every man against his neighbor. Gulden seemed implacablyindifferent and played like a machine. Blicky sat eager and excited,under a spell. Jesse Smith was a slow, cool, shrewed gambler. Bossertand Pike, two ruffians almost unknown to Joan, appeared carried awayby their opportunity. And Kells began to wear that strange, rapt, weakexpression that gambling gave him.
Presently Beady Jones and Braverman bustled in, carrying the packs. ThenBudd jumped up and ran to them. He returned to the table, carrying ademijohn, which he banged upon the table.
"Whisky!" exclaimed Kells. "Take that away. We can't drink and gamble."
"Watch me!" replied Blicky.
"Let them drink, Kells," declared Gulden. "We'll get their dust quicker.Then we can have our game."
Kells made no more comment. The game went on and the aspect of itchanged. When Kells himself began to drink, seemingly unconscious of thefact, Joan's dread increased greatly, and, leaving the peep-hole, shelay back upon the bed. Always a sword had hung over her head. Time aftertime by some fortunate circumstance or by courage or wit or by an act ofProvidence she had escaped what strangely menaced. Would she escape itagain? For she felt the catastrophe coming. Did Jim recognize that fact?Remembering the look on his face, she was assured that he did. Then hewould be quick to seize upon any possible chance to get her away; andalways he would be between her and those bandits. At most, then, she hadonly death to fear--death that he would mercifully deal to her if theworst came. And as she lay there listening to the slow-rising murmur ofthe gamblers, with her thought growing clearer, she realized it was loveof Jim and fear for him--fear that he would lose her--that caused hercold dread and the laboring breath and the weighted heart. She had costJim this terrible experience and she wanted to make up to him for it, togive him herself and all her life.
Joan lay there a long time, thinking and suffering, while the strange,morbid desire to watch Kells and Gulden grew stronger and stronger,until it was irresistible. Her fate, her life, lay in the balancebetween these two men. She divined that.
She returned to her vantage-point, and as she glanced through shevibrated to a shock. The change that had begun subtly, intangibly, wasnow a terrible and glaring difference. That great quantity of gold, theequal chance of every gambler, the marvelous possibilities presented toevil minds, and the hell that hid in that black bottle--these had madeplaythings of every bandit except Gulden. He was exactly the same asever. But to see the others sent a chill of ice along Joan's veins.Kells was white and rapt. Plain to see--he had won! Blicky was wild withrage. Jesse Smith sat darker, grimmer, but no longer cool. There washate in the glance he fastened upon Kells as he bet. Beady Jones andBraverman showed an inflamed and impotent eagerness to take their turn.Budd sat in the game now, and his face wore a terrible look. Joan couldnot tell what passion drove him, but she knew he was a loser. Pike andBossert likewise were losers, and stood apart, sullen, watching withsick, jealous rage. Jim Cleve had reacted to the strain, and he waswhite, with nervous, clutching hands and piercing glances. And the gamewent on with violent slap of card or pound of fist upon the table, withthe slide of a bag of gold or the little, sodden thump of its weight,with savage curses at loss and strange, raw exultation at gain, withhurry and violence--more than all, with the wildness of the hour andthe wildness of these men, drawing closer and closer to the dread climaxthat from the beginning had been foreshadowed.
Suddenly Budd rose and bent over the table, his cards clutched in ashaking hand, his face distorted and malignant, his eyes burning atKells. Passionately he threw the cards down.
"There!" he yelled, hoarsely, and he stilled the noise.
"No good!" replied Kells, tauntingly. "Is there any other game youplay?"
Budd bent low to see the cards in Kells's hand, and then, straighteninghis form, he gazed with haggard fury at the winner. "You've done me!...I'm cleaned--I'm busted!" he raved.
"You were easy. Get out of the game," replied Kells, with an exultantcontempt. It was not the passion of play that now obsessed him, but thepassion of success.
"I said you done me," burst out Budd, insanely. "You're slick with thecards!"
The accusation acted like magic to silence the bandits, to checkmovement, to clamp the situation. Kells was white and radiant; he seemedcareless and nonchalant.
"All right, Budd," he replied, but his tone did not suit his strangelook. "That's three times for you!"
Swift as a flash he shot. Budd fell over Gulden, and the giant with onesweep of his arm threw the stricken bandit off. Budd fell heavily, andneither moved nor spoke.
"Pass me the bottle," went on Kells, a little hoarse shakiness in hisvoice. "And go on with the game!"
"Can I set in now?" asked Beady Jones, eagerly.
"You and Jack wait. This's getting to be all between Kells an' me," saidGulden.
"We've sure got Blicky done!" exclaimed Kells. There was somethingtaunting about the leader's words. He did not care for the gold. It wasthe fight to win. It was his egotism.
"Make this game faster an' bigger, will you?" retorted Blicky, whoseemed inflamed.
"Boss, a little luck makes you lofty," interposed Jesse Smith in darkdisdain. "Pretty soon you'll show yellow clear to your gizzard!"
The gold lay there on the table. It was only a means to an end. Itsignified nothing. The evil, the terrible greed, the brutal lust, werein the hearts of the men. And hate, liberated, rampant, stalked outunconcealed, ready for blood.
"Gulden, change the game to suit these gents," taunted Kells.
"Double stakes. Cut the cards!" boomed the giant, instantly.
Blicky lasted only a few more deals of the cards, then he rose, loser ofall his share, a passionate and venomous bandit, ready for murder. Buthe kept his mouth shut and looked wary.
"Boss, can't we set in now?" demanded Beady Jones.
"Say, Beady, you're in a hurry to lose your gold," replied Kells. "Waittill I beat Gulden and Smith."
Luck turned against Jesse Smith. He lost first to Gulden, then toKells, and presently he rose, a beaten, but game man. He reached for thewhisky.
"Fellers, I reckon I can enjoy Kells's yellow streak more when I ain'tplayin'," he said.
The bandit leader eyed Smith with awakening rancor, as if a persistenthint of inevitable weakness had its effect. He frowned, and the radianceleft his face for the forbidding cast.
"Stand around, you men, and see some real gambling," he said.
At this moment in the contest Kells had twice as much gold as Gulden,there being a huge mound of little buckskin sacks in front of him.
They began staking a bag at a time and cutting the cards, the highercard winning. Kells w
"Hey, boss, ain't it about time--" began Jesse Smith. But whateverhe had intended to say, he thought better of, withholding it. Kells'ssudden look and movement were unmistakable.
The goddess of chance, as false as the bandit's vanity, played with him.He brightened under a streak of winning. But just as his face began tolose its haggard shade, to glow, the tide again turned against him.He lost and lost, and with each bag of gold-dust went something of hisspirit. And when he was reduced to his original share he indeed showedthat yellow streak which Jesse Smith had attributed to him. The bandit'seffort to pull himself together, to be a man before that scornful gang,was pitiful and futile. He might have been magnificent, confronted byother issues, of peril or circumstance, but there he was craven. He wasa man who should never have gambled.
One after the other, in quick succession, he lost the two bags of gold,his original share. He had lost utterly. Gulden had the great heap ofdirty little buckskin sacks, so significant of the hidden power within.
Joan was amazed and sick at sight of Kells then, and if it had beenpossible she would have withdrawn her gaze. But she was chained there.The catastrophe was imminent.
Kells stared down at the gold. His jaw worked convulsively. He had theeyes of a trapped wolf. Yet he seemed not wholly to comprehend what hadhappened to him.
Gulden rose, slow, heavy, ponderous, to tower over his heap of gold.Then this giant, who had never shown an emotion, suddenly, terriblyblazed.
"One more bet--a cut of the cards--my whole stake of gold!" he boomed.
The bandits took a stride forward as one man, then stood breathless.
"One bet!" echoed Kells, aghast. "Against what?"
"AGAINST THE GIRL!"
Joan sank against the wall, a piercing torture in her breast. Sheclutched the logs to keep from falling. So that was the impendinghorror. She could not unrivet her eyes from the paralyzed Kells, yetshe seemed to see Jim Cleve leap straight up, and then stand, equallymotionless, with Kells.
"One cut of the cards--my gold against the girl!" boomed the giant.
Kells made a movement as if to go for his gun. But it failed. His handwas a shaking leaf.
"You always bragged on your nerve!" went on Gulden, mercilessly. "You'rethe gambler of the border!... Come on."
Kells stood there, his doom upon him. Plain to all was his torture,his weakness, his defeat. It seemed that with all his soul he combatedsomething, only to fail.
"ONE CUT--MY GOLD AGAINST YOUR GIRL!"
The gang burst into one concerted taunt. Like snarling, bristling wolvesthey craned their necks at Kells.
"No, damn--you! No!" cried Kells, in hoarse, broken fury. With bothhands before him he seemed to push back the sight of that gold, ofGulden, of the malignant men, of a horrible temptation.
"Reckon, boss, thet yellow streak is operatin'!" sang out Jesse Smith.
But neither gold, nor Gulden, nor men, nor taunts ruined Kells at thisperhaps most critical crisis of his life. It was the mad, clutching,terrible opportunity presented. It was the strange and terrible natureof the wager. What vision might have flitted through the gambler's mind!But neither vision of loss nor gain moved him. There, licking like aflame at his soul, consuming the good in him at a blast, overpoweringhis love, was the strange and magnificent gamble. He could not resistit.
Speechless, with a motion of his hand, he signified his willingness.
"Blicky, shuffle the cards," boomed Gulden.
Blicky did so and dropped the deck with a slap in the middle of thetable.
"Cut!" called Gulden.
Kells's shaking hand crept toward the deck.
Jim Cleve suddenly appeared to regain power of speech and motion."Don't, Kells, don't!" he cried, piercingly, as he leaped forward.
But neither Kells nor the others heard him, or even saw his movement.
Kells cut the deck. He held up his card. It was the king of hearts. Whata transformation! His face might have been that of a corpse suddenlyrevivified with glorious, leaping life.
"Only an ace can beat thet!" muttered Jesse Smith into the silence.
Gulden reached for the deck as if he knew every card left was an ace.His cavernous eyes gloated over Kells. He cut, and before he lookedhimself he let Kells see the card.
"You can't beat my streak!" he boomed.
Then he threw the card upon the table. It was the ace of spades.
Kells seemed to shrivel, to totter, to sink. Jim Cleve went quickly tohim, held to him.
"Kells, go say good--by to your girl!" boomed Gulden. "I'll want herpretty soon.... Come on, you Beady and Braverman. Here's your chance toget even."
Gulden resumed his seat, and the two bandits invited to play were eagerto comply, while the others pressed close once more.
Jim Cleve led the dazed Kells toward the door into Joan's cabin. ForJoan just then all seemed to be dark.
When she recovered she was lying on the bed and Jim was bending overher. He looked frantic with grief and desperation and fear.
"Jim! Jim!" she moaned, grasping his hands. He helped her to sit up.Then she saw Kells standing there. He looked abject, stupid, drunk. Yetevidently he had begun to comprehend the meaning of his deed.
"Kells," began Cleve, in low, hoarse tones, as he stepped forward with agun. "I'm going to kill you--and Joan--and myself!"
Kells stared at Cleve. "Go ahead. Kill me. And kill the girl, too.That'll be better for her now. But why kill yourself?"
"I love her. She's my wife!"
The deadness about Kells suddenly changed. Joan flung herself beforehim.
"Kells--listen," she whispered in swift, broken passion. "Jim Clevewas--my sweetheart--back in Hoadley. We quarreled. I taunted him. I saidhe hadn't nerve enough--even to be bad. He left me--bitterly enraged.Next day I trailed him. I wanted to fetch him back.... You remember--howyou met me with Robert--how you killed Roberts? And all the rest?...When Jim and I met out here--I was afraid to tell you. I tried toinfluence him. I succeeded--till we got to Alder Creek. There he wentwild. I married him--hoping to steady him.... Then the day of thelynching--we were separated from you in the crowd. That night wehid--and next morning took the stage. Gulden and his gang held up thestage. They thought you had put us there. We fooled them, but we had tocome on--here to Cabin Gulch--hoping to tell--that you'd let us go....And now--now--"
Joan had not strength to go on. The thought of Gulden made her faint.
"It's true, Kells," added Cleve, passionately, as he faced theincredulous bandit. "I swear it. Why, you ought to see now!"
"My God, boy, I DO see!" gasped Kells. That dark, sodden thickness ofcomprehension and feeling, indicative of the hold of drink, passed awayswiftly. The shock had
Instantly Joan saw it--saw in him the return of the other and betterKells, how stricken with remorse. She slipped to her knees and claspedher arms around him. He tried to break her hold, but she held on.
"Get up!" he ordered, violently. "Jim, pull her away!... Girl, don't dothat in front of me... I've just gambled away--"
"Her life, Kells, only that, I swear," cried Cleve.
"Kells, listen," began Joan, pleadingly. "You will not let that--thatCANNIBAL have me?"
"No, by God!" replied Kells, thickly. "I was drunk--crazy.... Forgiveme, girl! You see--how did I know--what was coming?... Oh, the wholething is hellish!"
"You loved me once," whispered Joan, softly. "Do you love me still?...Kells, can't you see? It's not too late to save my life--and YOURsoul!... Can't you see? You have been bad. But if you save me now--fromGulden--save me for this boy I've almost ruined--you--you.... God willforgive you!... Take us away--go with us--and never come back to theborder."
"Maybe I can save you," he muttered, as if to himself. He appeared towant to think, but to be bothered by the clinging arms around him. Joanfelt a ripple go over his body and he seemed to heighten, and the touchof his hands thrilled.
Then, white and appealing, Cleve added his importunity.
"Kells, I saved your life once. You said you'd remember it some day.Now--now!... For God's sake don't make me shoot her!"
Joan rose from her knees, but she still clasped Kells. She seemed tofeel the mounting of his spirit, to understand how in this moment he wasrising out of the depths. How strangely glad she was for him!
"Joan, once you showed me what the love of a good woman really was. I'venever seen the same since then. I've grown better in one way--worsein all others.... I let down. I was no man for the border. Always thathaunted me. Believe me, won't you--despite all?"
Joan felt the yearning in him for what he dared not ask. She read hismind. She knew he meant, somehow, to atone for his wrong.
"I'll show you again," she whispered. "I'll tell you more. If I'd neverloved Jim Cleve--if I'd met you, I'd have loved you.... And, bandit ornot, I'd have gone with you to the end of the world!"
"Joan!" The name was almost a sob of joy and pain. Sight of his facethen blinded Joan with her tears. But when he caught her to him, in aviolence that was a terrible renunciation, she gave her embrace, herarms, her lips without the vestige of a lie, with all of womanliness andsweetness and love and passion. He let her go and turned away, and inthat instant Joan had a final divination that this strange man couldrise once to heights as supreme as the depths of his soul were dark.She dashed away her tears and wiped the dimness from her eyes. Hoperesurged. Something strong and sweet gave her strength.
When Kells wheeled he was the Kells of her earlier experience--cool,easy, deadly, with the smile almost amiable, and the strange, pale eyes.Only the white radiance of him was different. He did not look at her.
"Jim, will you do exactly what I tell you?"
"Yes, I promise," replied Jim.
"How many guns have you?"
"Two."
"Give me one of them."
Cleve held out the gun that all the while he had kept in his hand. Kellstook it and put it in his pocket.
"Pull your other gun--be ready," said he, swiftly. "But don't you shootonce till I go down!... Then do your best.... Save the last bullet forJoan--in case--"
"I promise," replied Cleve, steadily.
Then Kells drew a knife from a sheath at his belt. It had a long, brightblade. Joan had seen him use it many a time round the camp-fire. Heslipped the blade up his sleeve, retaining the haft of the knife in hishand. He did not speak another word. Nor did he glance at Joan again.She had felt his gaze while she had embraced him, as she raised herlips. That look had been his last. Then he went out. Jim knelt besidethe door, peering between post and curtain.
Joan staggered to the chink between the logs. She would see that fightif it froze her blood--the very marrow of her bones.
The gamblers were intent upon their game. Not a dark face looked up asKells sauntered toward the table. Gulden sat with his back to thedoor. There was a shaft of sunlight streaming in, and Kells blocked it,sending a shadow over the bent heads of the gamesters. How significantthat shadow--a blackness barring gold! Still no one paid any attentionto Kells.
He stepped closer. Suddenly he leaped into swift and terrible violence.Then with a lunge he drove the knife into Gulden's burly neck.
Up heaved the giant, his mighty force overturning table and benches andmen. An awful boom, strangely distorted and split, burst from him.
Then Kells blocked the door with a gun in each hand, but only the onein his right hand spurted white and red. Instantly there followed amad scramble--hoarse yells, over which that awful roar of Gulden'spredominated--and the bang of guns. Clouds of white smoke veiled thescene, and with every shot the veil grew denser. Red flashes burst fromthe ground where men were down, and from each side of Kells. His formseemed less instinct with force; it had shortened; he was sagging. Butat intervals the red spurt and report of his gun showed he was fighting.Then a volley from one side made him stagger against the door. The clearspang of a Winchester spoke above the heavy boom of the guns.
Joan's eyesight recovered from its blur or else the haze of smokedrifted, for she saw better. Gulden's actions fascinated her, horrifiedher. He had evidently gone crazy. He groped about the room, through thesmoke, to and fro before the fighting, yelling bandits, grasping withhuge hands for something. His sense of direction, his equilibrium, hadbecome affected. His awful roar still sounded above the din, but it wasweakening. His giant's strength was weakening. His legs bent and buckledunder him. All at once he whipped out his two big guns and began to fireas he staggered--at random. He killed the wounded Blicky. In the meleehe ran against Jesse Smith and thrust both guns at him. Jesse saw theperil and with a shriek he fired point-blank at Gulden. Then as Guldenpulled triggers both men fell. But Gulden rose, bloody-browed, bawling,still a terrible engine of destruction. He seemed to glare in onedirection and shoot in another. He pointed the guns and apparentlypulled the triggers long after the shots had all been fired.
Kells was on his knees now with only one gun. This wavered and fell,wavered and fell. His left arm hung broken. But his face flashed whitethrough the thin, drifting clouds of smoke.
Besides Gulden the bandit Pike was the only one not down, and he washard hit. When he shot his last he threw the gun away, and, drawing aknife, he made at Kells. Kells shot once more, and hit Pike, but didnot stop him. Silence, after the shots and yells, seemed weird, and thegroping giant, trying to follow Pike, resembled a huge phantom. With onewrench he tore off a leg of the overturned table and brandished that. Heswayed now, and there was a whistle where before there had been a roar.
Pike fell over the body of Blicky and got up again. The bandit leaderstaggered to his feet, flung the useless gun in Pike's face, and closedwith him in weak but final combat. They lurched and careened to and fro,with the giant Gulden swaying after them. Thus they struggled untilPike moved under Gulden's swinging club. The impetus of the blowcarried Gulden off his balance. Kells seized the haft of the knife stillprotruding from the giant's neck, and he pulled upon it with all hismight. Gulden heaved up again, and the movement enabled Kells to pullout the knife. A bursting gush of blood, thick and heavy, went floodingbefore the giant as he fell.
Kells dropped the knife, and, tottering, surveyed the scene beforehim--the gasping Gulden, and all the quiet forms. Then he made a fewhalting steps, and dropped near the door.
Joan tried to rush out, but what with the unsteadiness of her limbsand Jim holding her as he went out, too, she seemed long in getting toKells.
She knelt beside him, lifted his head. His face was white--his eyes wereopen. But they were only the windows of a retreating soul. He did notknow her. Consciousness was gone. Then swiftly life fled.