“No!” ejaculated Kells, intensely.

Bate Wood let out a whoop which was answered by the men hurrying up the slope.

“Been on—­for weeks!” panted Blicky.  “It’s big.  Can’t tell how big.  Me an’ Jesse Smith an’ Handy Oliver hit a new road—­over here fifty miles as a crow flies—­a hundred by trail.  We was plumb surprised.  An’ when we met pack-trains an’ riders an’ prairie-schooners an’ a stage-coach we knew there was doin’s over in the Bear Mountain range.  When we came to the edge of the diggin’s an’ seen a whalin’ big camp—­like a beehive—­Jesse an’ Handy went on to get the lay of the land an’ I hit the trail back to you.  I’ve been a-comin’ on an’ off since before sundown yesterday. ...  Jesse gave one look an’ then hollered.  He said, ‘Tell Jack it’s big an’ he wants to plan big.  We’ll be back there in a day or so with all details.’”

Joan watched Kells intently while he listened to this breathless narrative of a gold strike, and she was repelled by the singular flash of brightness—­a radiance—­that seemed to be in his eyes and on his face.  He did not say a word, but his men shouted hoarsely around Blicky.  He walked a few paces to and fro with hands strongly clenched, his lips slightly parted, showing teeth close-shut like those of a mastiff.  He looked eager, passionate, cunning, hard as steel, and that strange brightness of elation slowly shaded to a dark, brooding menace.  Suddenly he wheeled to silence the noisy men.

“Where’re Pearce and Gulden?  Do they know?” he demanded.

“Reckon no one knows but who’s right here,” replied Blicky.

“Red an’ Gul are sleepin’ off last night’s luck,” said Bate Wood.

“Have any of you seen young Cleve?” Kells went on.  His voice rang quick and sharp.

No one spoke, and presently Kells cracked his fist into his open hand.

“Come on.  Get the gang together at Beard’s. ...  Boys, the time we’ve been gambling on has come.  Jesse Smith saw ’49 and ’51.  He wouldn’t send me word like this—­unless there was hell to pay. ...  Come on!”

He strode off down the slope with the men close around him, and they met other men on the way, all of whom crowded into the group, jostling, eager, gesticulating.

Joan was left alone.  She felt considerably perturbed, especially at Kells’s sharp inquiry for Jim Cleve.  Kells might persuade him to join that bandit legion.  These men made Joan think of wolves, with Kells the keen and savage leader.  No one had given a thought to Blicky’s horse and that neglect in border men was a sign of unusual preoccupation.  The horse was in bad shape.  Joan took off his saddle and bridle, and rubbed the dust-caked lather from his flanks, and led him into the corral.  Then she fetched a bucket of water and let him drink sparingly, a little at a time.