The bandits were gay, derisive, scornful, eager, like a group of boys, half surly, half playful, at a game.

“Wal, I shore want to see my share weighted,” drawled Budd.

Kells moved—­his gun flashed—­he slammed it hard upon the table.

“Budd, do you question my honesty?” he asked, quick and hard.

“No offense, boss.  I was just talkin’.”

That quick change of Kells’s marked a subtle difference in the spirit of the bandits and the occasion.  Gaiety and good humor and badinage ended.  There were no more broad grins or friendly leers or coarse laughs.  Gulden and his groups clustered closer to the table, quiet, intense, watchful, suspicious.

It did not take Kells and his assistant long to divide the smaller quantity of the gold.

“Here, Gulden,” he said, and handed the giant a bag.  Jesse. ...  Bossert. ...  Pike. ...  Beady. ...  Braverman ...  “Blicky.”

“Here, Jim Cleve, get in the game,” he added, throwing a bag at Jim.  It was heavy.  It hit Jim with a thud and dropped to the ground.  He stooped to reach it.

“That leaves one for Handy and one for me,” went on Kells.  “Blicky, spill out the big bag.”

Presently Joan saw a huge mound of dull, gleaming yellow.  The color of it leaped to the glinting eyes of the bandits.  And it seemed to her that a shadow hovered over them.  The movements of Kells grew tense and hurried.  Beads of sweat stood out upon his brow.  His hands were not steady.

Soon larger bags were distributed to the bandits.  That broke the waiting, the watchfulness, but not the tense eagerness.  The bandits were now like leashed hounds.  Blicky leaned before Kells and hit the table with his fist.

“Boss, I’ve a kick comin’,” he said.

“Come on with it,” replied the leader.

“Ain’t Gulden a-goin’ to divide up thet big nugget?”

“He is if he’s square.”

A chorus of affirmatives from the bandits strengthened Kells’s statement.  Gulden moved heavily and ponderously, and he pushed some of his comrades aside to get nearer to Kells.

“Wasn’t it my right to do a job by myself—­when I wanted?” he demanded.

“No.  I agreed to let you fight when you wanted.  To kill a man when you liked! ...  That was the agreement.”

“What’d I kill a man for?”

No one answered that in words, but the answer was there, in dark faces.

“I know what I meant,” continued Gulden.  “And I’m going to keep this nugget.”

There was a moment’s silence.  It boded ill to the giant.

“So—­he declares himself,” said Blicky, hotly.  “Boss, what you say goes.”

“Let him keep it,” declared Kells, scornfully.  “I’ll win it from him and divide it with the gang.”

That was received with hoarse acclaims by all except Gulden.  He glared sullenly.  Kells stood up and shook a long finger in the giant’s face.