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Updated: July 26, 2025
There niver wor a mon his equal on the U. P. 'ceptin' Casey.... But me, nor any wan, nor yez, either, ever seen Neale loike he wuz thin. He niver hesitated an inch, but wint roight fer Durade. Any dom' fool, even a crazy greaser, would hev seen his finish in Neale. Durade changed quick from hot to cold. An' he shot Neale. "Neale laughed.
Hissing like a snake, Durade stood still, momentarily held back by a fear that quickly gave place to insane rage. "Shoot him!" said Ancliffe, with a coolness which proved his foresight. One of Hough's friends swung a cane, smashing a lamp; then with like swift action he broke the other lamp, instantly plunging the room into darkness.
He is mad to gamble. This railroad of gold is a rich stake for him. He will not last long, nor will any of his kind." Neale shook his head doubtfully. "It doesn't seem wise to me letting him go.... Allie, does he use his right name Durade?" "No." "What does he look like? You described him once to me, but I've forgotten."
Always in his mind were haunting fears of this Spaniard, Durade, who had ruined Allie's mother, and of the father whom Allie had never seen. Neale instinctively felt that these men were to crop up somewhere in his life, and before they did appear he wanted to marry Allie. She was now little more than sixteen years old.
"With pleasure," replied Hough. Durade frowned and the glow left his face. Though the luck was still with him, it was evident that he did not favor added numbers. Yet the man's sensitiveness to any change immediately manifested itself when he won the first large stake. His radiance returned and also his vanity. Hough interrupted the game by striking the table with his hand.
Durade led her through two large hall-like rooms into a small one, light and newly furnished. "The best Benton afforded," said Durade, waving his hand. "You'll be comfortable. There are books newspapers. Here's a door opening into a little room. It's dark, but there's water, towel, soap. And you've a mirror.... Allie, this is luxury to what you've had to put up with."
But she had heard how the cowboy's shot had doomed her how he had fought his way out, only to fall dead in the street and leave the girl to be taken by Durade. Now Beauty Stanton realized that she had been left alone in an abandoned tent of an abandoned camp to die. She became more conscious then of dull physical agony. But neither fear of death nor thought of pain occupied her mind.
They had lost gold, which fact meant little to them. But there was something big and significant in their presence behind Hough. Gamblers leagued against a crooked gambling-hell! Durade had lost a fortune, yet not all his fortune. He seemed a haggard, flaming-eyed wreck of the once debonair Durade. His hair was wet and dishevelled, his collar was open, his hand wavered.
His years among men of later mold had not changed the Old World cruelty of his nature. She recognized the fact in utter despair. She had not strength left to keep her eyes open. After a while Allie grew conscious that Durade had left her. She felt like a creature that had been fascinated by a deadly snake and then left to itself; in the mean time she could do nothing but wait.
She had heard something similar in the gold-camps of California and in the grading-camps where Durade had lingered; this was at once the same and yet vastly different. She lay listening and thinking. The low roar was that of human beings, and any one of its many constituents seemed difficult to distinguish.
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