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He lost first to Gulden, then to Kells, and presently he rose, a beaten, but game man. He reached for the whisky. "Fellers, I reckon I can enjoy Kells's yellow streak more when I ain't playin'," he said. The bandit leader eyed Smith with awakening rancor, as if a persistent hint of inevitable weakness had its effect. He frowned, and the radiance left his face for the forbidding cast.
The excitement had subsided and the action begun. Only in Kells, under his radiance, could be felt the dark and sinister plot. He was the heart of the machine. By sundown Kells, Pearce, Wood, Jim Cleve, and a robust, grizzled bandit, Jesse Smith, were left in camp. Smith was lame from his ride, and Joan gathered that Kells would have left camp but for the fact that Smith needed rest.
The man in the painted vest had transferred his attention from stallion to mare. "Yes. Quickest way is down this alley. Tobe Kells owns it. He’s a tolerable vet, too. She’s near her time, ain’t she?" "Yes." The rider raised one finger to the straight wide brim of his low-crowned black hat. He was already turning his mount when the townsman added: "No hotel here, stranger.
He rapidly read an amazing lyric beginning, "Motorists, you hadn't better monkey with the carburetor, all the racers, all the swells, have equipped their cars with Kells. We are privileged to announce what will give the trade a jounce, that the floats have been improved like all motorists would have loved." He broke off and shouted, "Punk last line, but I'll fix it up.
"You can't weigh it all on these scales," said Blicky. "That's sure," replied Kells. "We'll divide the small bags first.... Ten shares ten equal parts!... Spill out the bags. Blick. And hurry. Look how hungry Gulden looks!... Somebody cook your breakfast while we divide the gold." "Haw! Haw!" "Ho! Ho!" "Who wants to eat?"
"We've sure got Blicky done!" exclaimed Kells. There was something taunting about the leader's words. He did not care for the gold. It was the fight to win. It was his egotism. "Make this game faster an' bigger, will you?" retorted Blicky, who seemed inflamed. "Boss, a little luck makes you lofty," interposed Jesse Smith in dark disdain. "Pretty soon you'll show yellow clear to your gizzard!"
Blicky lasted only a few more deals of the cards, then he rose, loser of all his share, a passionate and venomous bandit, ready for murder. But he 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. "Wait till I beat Gulden and Smith." Luck turned against Jesse Smith.
"I'm trying to be decent to you," went on Kells, without turning. "I want to give you a chance to make the best of a bad situation. But you're a kid a girl!... And I'm a bandit. A man lost to all good, who means to have you!" "But you're NOT lost to all good," replied Joan, earnestly. "I can't understand what I do feel.
"Blicky!" exclaimed the tall man. "Kells, there's news. I seen Jesse's hoss." Kells let out a strange, exultant cry. The excited talk among the men gave place, to a subdued murmur, then subsided. Blicky was running a horse up the road, hanging low over him, like an Indian. He clattered to the bench, scattered the men in all directions. The fiery horse plunged and pounded.
He manifested interest in the gambling of the players by surly grunts. Presently he said something to Kells. "What?" queried the bandit, sharply, wheeling, the better to see Gulden. The noise subsided. One gamester laughed knowingly. "Lend me a sack of dust?" asked Gulden. Kells's face showed amaze and then a sudden brightness. "What! You want gold from me?" "Yes. I'll pay it back."
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