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And do you think I've been driving that stagecoach hell-bent from here to beyond because I'd no other way to kill time? Wasn't another darned man in the outfit I'd trust, that's why. If I take the Indians back, I've got to have some real boys." Luck's voice was plaintive, and a little bit desperate. "Well, dammit, have your real boys! I never said you shouldn't.
"Belllounds, there's no sense in it, but a lot of truth," confessed Wade, gloomily. "Ahuh!... Wal, Hell-Bent Wade, I'll take a chance on you," boomed the rancher's deep voice, rich with the intent of his big heart. "I've gambled all my life. An' the best friends I ever made were men I'd helped.... What wages do you ask?" "I'll take what you offer."
His ornery three kings was no good. But he just knew there was another king coming that was his hunch and he got it. And I tell you-all I got a hunch. There's a big strike coming on the Yukon, and it's just about due. I don't mean no ornery Moosehide, Birch-Creek kind of a strike. I mean a real rip-snorter hair-raiser. I tell you-all she's in the air and hell-bent for election.
Can't you recognize what's comin'?... I'm goin' to kill you, Buster Jack!" "My God!" whispered the other, understanding fully at last. "Here's where you pay for your dirty work. The time comes to every man. You've a choice, not to live for you'll never get away from Hell-Bent Wade but to rise above yourself at last." "But what for? Why do you want to kill me? I never harmed you."
His temple appeared half shot away, a bloody and horrible sight. "Pards, I got him!" he said, in strange, half-strangled whisper. "I got him!... Hell-Bent Wade! My respects! I'll meet you thar!" His reeling motion brought his gaze in line with Belllounds. The violence of his start sent drops of blood flying from his gory temple. "Ahuh! The cards run my way. Belllounds, hyar's to your lyin' eyes!"
When their trouble's goin' to turn out bad then I feel a terrible yearnin' to tell the story of Hell-Bent Wade. That foresight of trouble gave me my name.... But it's not operatin' here.... An' so, my young friends, you can believe me when I say somethin' will happen. As far as October first is concerned, or any time near, Collie isn't goin' to marry Jack Belllounds."
In a moment they were gone, leaving Hawe and his several comrades behind. Hawe was spitefully ejecting a wad of tobacco from his mouth and swearing in an undertone about "white-livered Greasers." He cocked his red eye speculatively at Stewart. "Wal, I reckon as you're so hell-bent on doin' it up brown thet you'll try to fire me off'n the range, too?"
I'll bet all the gold hyar that Hell-Bent Wade wouldn't shoot any man in the back!" "You win!" Slowly and stiffly the rustler rose to his feet. When he reached his height he deliberately swung his leg to kick Belllounds in the face. "Thar! I'd like to have a reckonin' with you, Buster Jack," he said. "I ain't dealin' the cards hyar.
But if you want him you can find him here when you come again. Put him on parole and leave him here. I'll not be a party to murder by letting him go." "Y'u think I'm going to murder him?" he smiled. "I think he cannot stand the riding. It would kill him." "A haidstrong man is bound to have his way. He seems hell-bent on riding.
"You're right we did. This side pardner of mine was hell-bent on wrestling with a blizzard," Holt answered dryly. "Sorry you broke your laig, Gid." "Then there's two of us sorry, Swiftwater. It's one of the best laigs I've got." Sheba turned to the old miner impulsively. "If you could be knowing what I am thinking of you, Mr.
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