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He spun the cylinder of his blackened Colt, while his face grew hard and vulture-like. Meanwhile, Cherry Malotte watched the hunted look in Glenister's face grow wilder and then stiffen into the stubbornness of a man at bay. The posse was at the door now, knocking. The three inside stood rigid and strained. Then Glenister tossed his burden on the bed.
First, there was an elaborate, copper-backed toilet-set, all richly ornamented and leather-bound. The metal was magnificently hand-worked and bore Glenister's initial. It spoke of elegant extravagance, and seemed oddly out of place in an Arctic miner's equipment, as did also a small set of De Maupassant.
"He ought to be in bed now, but he wouldn't let me come alone, and I could not wait," the girl supplemented, while her eyes avoided Glenister's in strange hesitation. "He wouldn't let you. I don't understand." "I'm her brother," announced the Bronco Kid. "I've known it for a long time, but I I well, you understand I couldn't let her know.
The creature on the stairs above stammered and stuttered, inquiringly: "What outrage is this, Mr. Glenister?" "The people of Nome are up in arms, and I've come to save you. Don't stop to argue." He spoke impatiently. "Is this some r-ruse to get me into your power?" "Uncle Arthur!" exclaimed the girl, sharply. Her eyes met Glenister's and begged him to take no offence.
Gradually the older man's face was beaten into a shapeless mass by the other's cunning blows, while Glenister's every bone was wrenched and twisted under his enemy's terrible onslaughts. The miner's chief effort, it is true, was to keep his feet and to break the man's embraces.
Evidently a discussion had been in progress, for a chairman was presiding, and the boxes, kegs, and bales of goods had been shoved back against the walls for seats. On these were ranged the threescore men of the "Stranglers," their serious faces lighted imperfectly by scattered lanterns. A certain constraint seized them upon Glenister's entrance; the chairman was embarrassed.
Why, say, I've had the story of that fight from four different fellers already, none of which was within four blocks of the scrimmage, an. they're all diff'rent an' all better 'n your account." Now that Glenister's mind had recovered some of its poise he realized what he had done. "I was a beast, an animal," he groaned, "and that after all my striving.
"What's the trouble?" the lawyer asked, but on hearing Glenister's name bounded after the Judge, leaving one of his companions to free the rider. They could hear the fight now, and all crowded towards the door, Helen with her brother, in spite of his warning to stay behind.
As dawn grayed the ragged eastern sky-line, Dextry and Slapjack blew in through the spindrift, bringing word from Cherry and lifting a load from Glenister's mind. "There's a game girl," said the old miner, as he wrung out his clothes. "She was half gone when she got to us, and now she's waiting for the storm to break so that she can come back." "It's clearing up to the east," Slapjack chattered.
Glenister's nails cut into his flesh, while his face went livid at the words. He could not grasp it at once. It made him sick physically sick and for many moments he strove blindly to beat back the hideous suspicion, the horror that the lawyer had aroused. His was not a doubting disposition, and to him the girl had seemed as one pure, mysterious, apart, angelically incapable of deceit.
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