Beth Norvell

"What, for instance?"

"Well,--just to take a chance,--Beth Norvell," Farnham never forgot the flame of those gray eyes, or the sharp sting

of the indignant voice.

"What do you know regarding her? Speak out, damn you!"

The gambler laughed uneasily; he had seen that look in men's faces

before, and knew its full, deadly meaning. He had already gone to the

very limit of safety.

"Oh, nothing, I assure you. I never even saw the lady," he explained

coldly. "But I have been told that she was the attraction for you in

this camp; and I rather guess I hit the bull's-eye that time, even if

it was a chance shot."

Winston moistened his dry lips, his eyes never wavering from off the

sneering face of the other.

"Farnham," the voice sounding low and distinct, "I have got something

to say to you, and you are going to listen to the end. You see that?"

He thrust sharply forward the skirt of his short coat. "Well, that's a

thirty-eight, cocked and loaded, and I 've got you covered. I know

your style, and if you make a single move toward your hip I 'll uncork

the whole six shots into your anatomy. Understand? Now, see here--I

'm not on the bargain counter for money or anything else. I had not

the slightest personal interest in this affair an hour ago, but I have

now, and, what is more, I am going directly after the facts. Neither

you, nor all of your crowd put together, can stop me with either money,

bullets, or women. I don't bully worth a cent, and I don't scare. You

took the wrong track, and you 've got me ready now to fight this out to

a finish. And the first pointer I desire to give you is this--if your

lips ever again besmirch the name of Beth Norvell to my knowledge, I

'll hunt you down as I would a mad dog. I believe you are a dirty liar

and thief, and now I 'm going after the facts to prove it. Good-night."

He backed slowly toward the curtained doorway, his gaze never wavering

from off the surprised countenance of the other, his hidden hand

grasping the masked revolver. Then he stepped through the opening and

disappeared. Farnham remained motionless, his face like iron, his

teeth gripping savagely. Then he dropped his hand heavily on the

table, still staring, as if fascinated, at the quivering curtains.

"By God, the fellow actually means fight," he muttered slowly. "He

means fight."