“Done?” echoed Wood, scratching his grizzled head.  “What in the hell ain’t he done? ...  He rode in brazener than any feller thet ever stacked up against this outfit.  An’ straight-off he wins the outfit.  I don’t know how he done it.  Mebbe it was because you seen he didn’t care fer anythin’ or anybody on earth.  He stirred us up.  He won all the money we had in camp—­broke most of us—­an’ give it all back.  He drank more’n the whole outfit, yet didn’t get drunk.  He threw his gun on Beady Jones fer cheatin’ an’ then on Beady’s pard, Chick Williams.  Didn’t shoot to kill—­jest winged ’em.  But say, he’s the quickest and smoothest hand to throw a gun thet ever hit this border.  Don’t overlook thet. ...  Kells, this Jim Cleve’s a great youngster goin’ bad quick.  An’ I’m here to add that he’ll take some company along.”

“Bate, you forgot to tell how he handled Luce,” said Red Pearee.  “You was there.  I wasn’t.  Tell Kells that.”

“Luce.  I know the man.  Go ahead, Bate,” responded Kells.

“Mebbe it ain’t any recommendation fer said Jim Cleve,” replied Wood.  “Though it did sorta warm me to him. ...  Boss, of course, you recollect thet little Brander girl over at Bear Lake village.  She’s old Brander’s girl—­worked in his store there.  I’ve seen you talk sweet to her myself.  Wal, it seems the old man an’ some of his boys took to prospectin’ an’ fetched the girl along.  Thet’s how I understood it.  Luce came bracin’ in over at Cabin Gulch one day.  As usual, we was drinkin’ an’ playin’.  But young Cleve wasn’t doin’ neither.  He had a strange, moody spell thet day, as I recollect.  Luce sprung a job on us.  We never worked with him or his outfit, but mebbe—­you can’t tell what’d come off if it hadn’t been for Cleve.  Luce had a job put up to ride down where ole Brander was washin’ fer gold, take what he had—­an’ the girl.  Fact was the gold was only incidental.  When somebody cornered Luce he couldn’t swear there was gold worth goin’ after.  An’ about then Jim Cleve woke up.  He cussed Luce somethin’ fearful.  An’ when Luce went for his gun, natural-like, why this Jim Cleve took it away from him.  An’ then he jumped Luce.  He knocked an’ threw him around an’ he near beat him to death before we could interfere.  Luce was shore near dead.  All battered up—­broken bones—­an’ what-all I can’t say.  We put him to bed an’ he’s there yet, an’ he’ll never be the same man he was.”

A significant silence fell upon the group at the conclusion of Wood’s narrative.  Wood had liked the telling, and it made his listeners thoughtful.  All at once the pale face of Kells turned slightly toward Gulden.

“Gulden, did you hear that?” asked Kells.

“Yes,” replied the man.

“What do you think about this Jim Cleve—­and the job he prevented?”

“Never saw Cleve.  I’ll look him up when we get back to camp.  Then I’ll go after the Brander girl.”

How strangely his brutal assurance marked a line between him and his companions!  There was something wrong, something perverse in this Gulden.  Had Kells meant to bring that point out or to get an impression of Cleve?