Kells did not cow Gulden—­for it was likely the giant lacked the feeling of fear—­but he overruled him by sheer strength of spirit.

Gulden backed away stolidly, apparently dazed by his own movements; then he plunged out the door, and the ruffians who had given silent but sure expression of their loyalty tramped after him.

“Reckon thet starts the split!” declared Red Pearce.

“Suppose you’d been in Jim’s place!” flashed Kells.

“Jack, I ain’t sayin’ a word.  You was square.  I’d want you to do the same by me. ...  But fetchin’ the girl into the deal—­”

Kells’s passionate and menacing gesture shut Pearce’s lips.  He lifted a hand, resignedly, and went out.

“Jim,” said Kells, earnestly, “take my hunch.  Hide your nugget.  Don’t send it out with the stage to Bannack.  It’d never get there. ...  And change the place where you sleep!”

“Thanks,” replied Cleve, brightly.  “I’ll hide my nugget all right.  And I’ll take care of myself.”

Later that night Joan waited at her window for Jim.  It was so quiet that she could hear the faint murmur of the shallow creek.  The sky was dusky blue; the stars were white, the night breeze sweet and cool.  Her first flush of elation for Jim having passed, she experienced a sinking of courage.  Were they not in peril enough without Jim’s finding a fortune?  How dark and significant had been Kells’s hint!  There was something splendid in the bandit.  Never had Joan felt so grateful to him.  He was a villain, yet he was a man.  What hatred he showed for Gulden!  These rivals would surely meet in a terrible conflict—­for power—­for gold.  And for her!—­she added, involuntarily, with a deep, inward shudder.  Once the thought had flashed through her mind, it seemed like a word of revelation.

Then she started as a dark form rose out of the shadow under her and a hand clasped hers.  Jim! and she lifted her face.

“Joan!  Joan!  I’m rich! rich!” he babbled, wildly.

“Ssssh!” whispered Joan, softly, in his ear.  “Be careful.  You’re wild to-night. ...  I saw you come in with the nugget.  I heard you. ...  Oh, you lucky Jim!  I’ll tell you what to do with it!”

“Darling!  It’s all yours.  You’ll marry me now?”

“Sir!  Do you take me for a fortune-hunter?  I marry you for your gold?  Never!”

“Joan!”

“I’ve promised,” she said.

“I won’t go away now.  I’ll work my claim,” he began, excitedly.  And he went on so rapidly that Joan could not keep track of his words.  He was not so cautious as formerly.  She remonstrated with him, all to no purpose.  Not only was he carried away by possession of gold and assurance of more, but he had become masterful, obstinate, and illogical.  He was indeed hopeless to-night—­the gold had gotten into his blood.  Joan grew afraid he would betray their secret and realized there had come still greater need for a woman’s wit.  So she resorted to a never-failing means of silencing him, of controlling him—­her lips on his.