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Updated: June 1, 2025
"I'll lose it anyhow," replied Neale, absent-mindedly. "Wal, stake me right heah an' now." At that Neale generously and still absent-mindedly delivered to Larry a handful of gold and notes that he did not count. "Hell! I ain't no bank," protested the cowboy. Hough and Ancliffe joined them and with amusement watched Larry try to find pockets enough for his small fortune.
But Neale and Larry King were not among them. Allie's heart sank like lead. The revulsion of feeling, the disappointment, was sickening. She saw Ancliffe shake his head, and divined in the action that he had not been able to find the friends Hough wanted particularly.
He would have been blind to it but for the dry humor of Place Hough, and the amiable indifference of Ancliffe, who had anticipated a rival in Neale. Their talk, like most talk, drifted through Neale's ears. What did he care? Both Hough and Ancliffe began to loom large to Neale.
"Look for a door any place to get out," whispered Hough to Ancliffe, as they came to the opposite side of this square space. Hough, with Allie close at his heels, went to the right while Ancliffe went to the left. Hough went so far, then muttering, drew Allie back again to the point whence they had started. Ancliffe was there. "No place! All boarded up tight," he whispered. "Same on this side.
The voices no longer were heard behind the canvas house. The wind whipped through the bare framework. Somewhere at a distance were music and revelry. Benton's night roar had begun. Over all seemed to hang a menacing and ponderous darkness. Suddenly a light appeared moving slowly from the most obscure corner of the space, perhaps fifty paces distant. Hough drew Allie closer to Ancliffe.
It had a sickening sound. He moved as if from a blow. A volley followed and Allie saw the bright flashes. All about her bullets were whistling and thudding. She knew with a keen horror every time Hough was struck. Hoarse yells and strangling cries mixed with the diminishing shots. Then Ancliffe grasped her and pushed her through a vent he had made.
Allie sensed a different note in it. The gambler Hough now faced her in his position at the table; and behind every card he played there seemed to be intense purpose and tremendous force. Ancliffe soon left the game. But he appeared fascinated where formerly he had been indifferent.
"Easy come, easy go in Benton," said the gambler, with a smile. Then his glance, alighting upon the quiet Stanton, grew a little puzzled. "Beauty, what ails you?" he asked. She was pale and her expressive eyes were fixed upon Neale. Hough's words startled her. "What ails me? ... Place, I've had a forgetful moment a happy one and I'm deathly sick!" Ancliffe stared in surprise.
He reminded Neale of Larry Red King the same cool, easy, careless air. Ancliffe would die game. Hough was not affected by this sort of debauched life any more than he would have been by any other kind. He preyed on men. He looked on with cold, gray, expressionless face. Possibly he, too, would find an end in Benton sooner or later. These reflections, passing swiftly, made Neale think of himself.
Ancliffe followed close behind. The night was dark, with no stars showing. A cool wind blew in Allie's face, refreshing her after her long confinement. Hough began groping forward. This square had a rough board floor and a skeleton framework. It had been a house of canvas. Some of the partitions were still standing.
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