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The clear spang of a Winchester spoke above the heavy boom of the guns. Joan's eyesight recovered from its blur or else the haze of smoke drifted, for she saw better. Gulden's actions fascinated her, horrified her. He had evidently gone crazy. He groped about the room, through the smoke, to and fro before the fighting, yelling bandits, grasping with huge hands for something.
He's not crazy like Gulden, but he's just as dangerous. He's dangerous because he doesn't know what he's doing has absolutely no fear of death and then he's swift with a gun. That's a bad combination. Cleve will kill a man presently. He's shot three already, and in Gulden's case he meant to kill. If once he kills a man that'll make him a gun-fighter. I've worried a little about his seeing you.
"Reckon that was Gulden's particular pards tryin' to mix it with Cleve an' Cleve tryin' to mix it with them an' ME in between!... I'm here to say, boss, that I had a time stavin' off a scrap." During this rapid exchange between Kells and his lieutenant, Jim Cleve sat on the edge of the table, one dusty boot swinging so that his spur jangled, a wisp of a cigarette in his lips.
They left the place exactly as they had found it, except that Cleve plucked the card from the bark of the balsam-tree Gulden's ace of hearts target with its bullet holes. Then they rode on, out of that canon, over the rocky ridge, down into another canon, on and on, past an old camp-site, along a babbling brook for miles, and so at last out into the foot hills.
Up heaved the giant, his mighty force overturning table and benches and men. An awful boom, strangely distorted and split, burst from him. Then Kells blocked the door with a gun in each hand, but only the one in his right hand spurted white and red. Instantly there followed a mad scramble hoarse yells, over which that awful roar of Gulden's predominated and the bang of guns.
I don't misunderstand his position regarding Bailey. What did he care for that soak? Gulden's cross-grained. He opposes anything or anybody. He's got a twist in his mind that makes him dangerous.... I wanted to get rid of him. I decided to after last night. But now it seems that's no easy job." "Why?" asked Joan, curiously. "Pearce and Wood and Beard, all men I rely on, said it won't do.
Gulden is a great machine for execution. He has no sense of fear. He's a giant. He loves to fight to kill. But Gulden's all but crazy. This last deal proves that. I leave it to your common sense. He rides around hunting for some lone camp to rob. Or some girl to make off with. He does not plan with me or the men whose judgment I have confidence in. He's always without gold.
"Sure.... But I remember what you asked me the other day about Gulden. Was that why?" "Nope," replied Cleve. "This was my affair." "All right. But I'd like to know. Pearce says you're in bad with Gulden's friends. If I can't make peace between you I'll have to take sides." "Kells, I don't need any one on my side," said Cleve, and he flung the cigarette away.
But there was not the slightest suggestion of change in Gulden's attitude or of those back of him. "Share and share alike for me!" he muttered, grimly, with those great eyes upon the nugget. Kells, with an agile bound, reached the table and pounded it with his fist, confronting the giant. "So you say!" he hissed in dark passion. "You've gone too far, Gulden.
"Jim, did you meet Gulden?" queried Kells, eagerly. "Can't find him anywhere," replied Cleve. "I've loafed in the saloons and gambling-hells where he hangs out. But he didn't show up. He's in camp. I know that for a fact. He's laying low for some reason." "Gulden's been tipped off, Jim," said Kells, earnestly. "He told Bate Wood you were out to kill him." "I'm glad.
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