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Don't get excited. Whew! I had quite a run." Gale paused in his tracks and looked at the young man queerly. "What do you mean?" "I've jumped those claims myself." "YOU jumped them!" cried Necia. "Sure! I changed my mind about staking." "It's a lie!" cried Runnion, at which Burrell whirled on him. "I've been waiting for this, Runnion ever since you came back. Now "
Why, there's Runnion he wants me so much that he'd 'even marry me'!" Her wild laughter stabbed the man. "Was ever a girl in such a fix! I've been made love to ever since I was half a woman, but at thought of a priest men seem to turn pale and run like whipped dogs. I'm only good enough for a bad man and a gambler, I suppose."
"I simply say it looks bad." But the other had turned his back and was walking on. There are men quite devoid of the ability to read the human face, and Runnion was of this species. Moreover, malice was so bitter in his mouth that he must have it out, so when they paused to blaze the next stake he addressed himself to Stark loud enough for Poleon to hear.
There was a hint of the meat-eating animal about him; his nose was keen and hawk-like, his walk and movements those of the predatory beast, and as he passed by, Burrell observed that his eyes were of a peculiar cruelty that went well with his thin lips. He was older by far than Runnion, but, while the latter was mean-visaged and swaggering, the stranger's manner was noticeable for its repression.
Well, it was their affair. They made a bad pair to draw to. He knew that Runnion was the saloon-keeper's lieutenant and obeyed implicitly his senior's commands.
"What was it?" questioned Runnion. "John was tell 'bout a feller he knowed w'at marry a good gal jus' to mak' her bad lak' hese'f." "How's that?" inquired Stark, turning curiously upon the old man; but Gale knocked the ashes from his pipe and replied: "Oh, it's a long story happened when I was in Washington State."
A morbid desire was upon her to track down this intangible racial distinction, but she saw Runnion, whom she could not bear, coming towards them, so thanked Stark hurriedly and went on her way. "Been making friends with that squaw, eh?" remarked Runnion, casually. "Yes," replied Stark. "She's a nice little girl, and I like her. I told her I didn't have any part in that miners' meeting affair."
Runnion heard him giving utterance to a strange, feral, whining sound, as if he were crying like a fighting boy; then, as the gambler raised his arm, the Canadian lifted himself up on the bottom of the canoe until he stood stretched to his full height, and leaped.
It required some pressure to persuade the Frenchman, but at last he consented; and as the afternoon drew to a close the little steamboat came squattering and wheezing up to the bar where Runnion had built his fire that morning, and a long, shrill blast summoned him from the point above.
"I mak' it go fas'," and began to row swiftly, seeking the breeze of the open river in which to shake off the horde of stinging pests that had risen with the sun. "I come 'way queeck wit'out t'inkin' 'bout gun or skeeter net or not'in'. Runnion she's len' me dis coat, so mebbe I don' look so worse lak' I do jus' now, eh?" "How did you leave him? Is he badly injured?"
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