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Updated: June 27, 2025
The Englishman threw down his cards. "None," he said. The game was interrupted by a commotion in the adjoining room, which was the public gambling-hall of Durade's establishment. "Another fight!" exclaimed Durade, impatiently. "And only Mull and Fresno showed up to-day." Harsh voices and heavy stamps were followed by a pistol-shot. Durade hurriedly arose.
"Do you remember a gambler named Jones? ... He was shot in this room ... If I should happen to be shot here in the same way you and your gang would not last long in Benton!" Durade's face grew livid with rage and fear. And in that moment the mask was off. The nature of the Spaniard stood forth.
The shame of being forced to meet degraded men, the pain from Durade's blows, the dread that every hour he would do the worst by her or kill her, the sudden and amazing recognition between her and her father these became dwarfed and blurred in the presence of the glorious truth that Neale was there. She had recognized him with reeling senses and through darkening eyes.
Shudderingly, mournfully, she resigned herself to the feeling that she must stay under Durade's control until a dominance stronger than his should release her. Neale seemed suddenly to have retreated far into the past, to have gone out of the realm of her consciousness.
Durade took hold of her arm and presently led her out into the light. The air was hot, windy, dusty. The street was full of hurrying and lounging men. Allie heard different snatches of speech as she and Durade went on. Some stared and leered at her, at which times Durade's hold tightened on her arm and his step quickened. She was certain no one looked at Durade.
We'll have to " "Listen!" exclaimed Ancliffe, holding up his hand. There appeared to be noise all around, but mostly on the other side of the looming canvas house, behind which was the alleyway that led to Durade's hall. Gleams of light flashed through the gloom. Durade's high, quick voice mingled with hoarser and deeper tones.
This appeared to be the signal for Durade's men to break loose into a mad scramble for the gold. Durade began to scream and rush forward. Allie felt herself drawn backward, along the wall, through her door. It was not so dark in there. She distinguished Hough and Ancliffe. The latter closed the door. Hough whispered to Allie, though the din in the other room made such caution needless.
She could only shut her eyes and ears and lips. Fresno found many opportunities to approach her, sometimes in Durade's presence, the gambler being blind to all but the cards and gold. At such times Allie wished she was sightless and deaf and feelingless. But after she was safely in her room again she told herself nothing had happened. She was still the same as she had always been.
Benton was Durade's objective point Benton, the great and growing camp-city, where gold and blood were spilled in the dusty streets and life roared like a blast from hell. All that Allie heard of Benton increased her dread, and at last she determined that she would run any risk rather than be taken there.
They made her sick with rage and revolt at the moment, but they had no power, no taint, no endurance. They were evil passing winds. As she saw Durade's retrogression, so she saw the changes in all about him. His winnings were large and his strange passion for play increased with them. The free gold that enriched Fresno and Mull and Andy only augmented their native ferocity.
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