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"Yes, I would.... But I KNOW you'll never harm me or abandon me to to that Gulden." "HOW do you know?" he cried, with the blood thick at his temples. "Because you're no beast any more.... And you you do love me." Kells thrust her from him so fiercely that she nearly fell. "I'll get over it.... Then look out!" he said, with dark bitterness.
Jesse saw the peril and with a shriek he fired point-blank at Gulden. Then as Gulden pulled triggers both men fell. But Gulden rose, bloody-browed, bawling, still a terrible engine of destruction. He seemed to glare in one direction and shoot in another. He pointed the guns and apparently pulled the triggers long after the shots had all been fired. Kells was on his knees now with only one gun.
I want to be free to kill a man when I like." "When you like!" retorted Kells, and added a curse. Then as if by magic his dark face cleared and there was infinite depth and craftiness in him. His opposition, and that hint of hate and loathing which detached him from Gulden, faded from his bearing. "Gulden, I'll split the difference between us. I'll leave you free to do as you like.
He was wild, voluble, unreasoning obsessed by the anticipated fulfilment of his dream. It was rather late in the morning and there were a dozen or more men in and around the cabin, all as excited as Kells. Preparations were already under way for the expected journey to the gold-field.
She knew Kells was forging with red-hot iron and blood that organization which she undesignedly had given a name the Border Legion. It would be a terrible legion, of that she was assured.
"Howdy boys!" said Kells, wanly. Gulden cursed in amaze while Pearce dropped to his knee with an exclamation of concern. Then both began to talk at once. Kells interrupted them by lifting a weak hand. "No, I'm not going to cash," he said. "I'm only starved and in need of stimulants. Had my back half shot off." "Who plugged you, Jack?" "Gulden, it was your side-partner, Bill." "Bill?"
"Wal, go back to Montana an' make thet fool girl sick," suggested one of the men who had heard Jim's fictitious story of himself. "Dug or stole is all the same!" boomed the imperturbable Gulden. Kells turned white with rage, and Cleve swept a swift and shrewd glance at the giant. "Sure, that's my idea," declared Cleve. "I'll divide as as we planned."
But Joan fearfully retained her clasp on his arm, and when he surged to get away she was hard put to it to hold him. "Jim! Where are you going?" He stood there a moment, a dark form against the night shadow, like an outline of a man cut from black stone. "I'll just step around there." "Oh, what for?" whispered Joan. "I'm going to kill Kells."
Once Kells turned to see how far distant she was, and then, lowering his voice, he told a story. The others laughed. Pearce followed with another, and he, too, took care that Joan could not hear. They grew closer for the mirth, and Smith, who evidently was a jolly fellow, set them to roaring. Jim Cleve laughed with them. "Say, Jim, you're getting over it," remarked Kells. "Over what?"
First of all he received from the Lord, in answer, a spiritual companion, and then two more of like mind; and they four began stated seasons of prayer in a small schoolhouse near Kells, Antrim, Ireland, every Friday evening.
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