“Wal, I always said thet youngster was slick,” replied Budd.

“Will you accuse him to his face?”

“I shore will.  Glad of the chance.”

“Then you’re drunk or just a fool.”

“Thet so?”

“Yes, that’s so,” flashed Kells.  “You don’t know Cleve.  He’ll kill you.  He’s lightning with a gun.  Do you suppose I’d set him on Gulden’s trail if I wasn’t sure?  Why I wouldn’t care to—­”

“Here comes Cleve,” interrupted Pearce, sharply.

Rapid footsteps sounded without.  Then Joan saw Jim Cleve darken the doorway.  He looked keen and bold.  Upon sight of Joan in her changed attire he gave a slight start.

“Budd, here’s Cleve,” called out Red Pearce, mockingly.  “Now, say it to his face!”

In the silence that ensued Pearce’s spirit dominated the moment with its cunning, hate, and violence.  But Kells savagely leaped in front of the men, still master of the situation.

“Red, what’s got into you?” he hissed.  “You’re cross-grained lately.  You’re sore.  Any more of this and I’ll swear you’re a disorganizer. ...  Now, Budd, you keep your mouth shut.  And you, Cleve, you pay no heed to Budd if he does gab. ...  We’re in bad and all the men have chips on their shoulders.  We’ve got to stop fighting among ourselves.”

“Wal, boss, there’s a power of sense in a good example,” dryly remarked Bate Wood.  His remark calmed Kells and eased the situation.

“Jim, did you meet Gulden?” queried Kells, eagerly.

“Can’t find him anywhere,” replied Cleve.  “I’ve loafed in the saloons and gambling-hells where he hangs out.  But he didn’t show up.  He’s in camp.  I know that for a fact.  He’s laying low for some reason.”

“Gulden’s been tipped off, Jim,” said Kells, earnestly.  “He told Bate Wood you were out to kill him.”

“I’m glad.  It wasn’t a fair hand you were going to deal him,” responded Cleve.  “But who gave my job away?  Someone in this gang wants me done for—­more than Gulden.”

Cleve’s flashing gaze swept over the motionless men and fixed hardest upon Red Pearce.  Pearce gave back hard look for hard look.

“Gulden told Oliver more,” continued Kells, and he pulled Cleve around to face him.  “Gulden swore he saw Creede alive last night. ...  Late last night!”

“That’s funny,” replied Cleve, without the flicker of an eyelash.

“It’s not funny.  But it’s queer.  Gulden hasn’t the moral sense to lie.  Bate says he wants to make trouble between you and me.  I doubt that.  I don’t believe Gulden could see a ghost, either.  He’s simply mistaken some miner for Creede.”

“He sure has, unless Creede came back to life.  I’m not sitting on his chest now, holding him down.”

Kells drew back, manifestly convinced and relieved.  This action seemed to be a magnet for Pearce.  He detached himself from the group, and, approaching Kells, tapped him significantly on the shoulder; and whether by design or accident the fact was that he took a position where Kells was between him and Cleve.