The Border Legion

Kells averted his gaze before speaking again. He hated to force this

task upon Cleve. Joan felt, in the throbbing pain of the moment,

that if she never had another reason to like this bandit, she would

like him for the pity he showed.

"Do you know a miner named Creede?" asked Kells, rapidly.

"A husky chap, short, broad, something like Gulden for shape, only

not so big--fellow with a fierce red beard?" asked Cleve.

"I never saw him," replied Kells. "But Pearce has. How does Cleve's

description fit Creede?"

"He's got his man spotted," answered Pearce.

"All right, that's settled," went on Kells, warming to his subject.

"This fellow Creede wears a heavy belt of gold. Blicky never makes a

mistake. Creede's partner left on yesterday's stage for Bannack.

He'll be gone a few days. Creede is a hard worker-one of the

hardest. Sometimes he goes to sleep at his supper. He's not the

drinking kind. He's slow, thick-headed. The best time for this job

will be early in the evening--just as soon as his lights are out.

Locate the tent. It stands at the head of a little wash and there's

a bleached pine-tree right by the tent. To-morrow night as soon as

it gets dark crawl up this wash--be careful--wait till the right

time--then finish the job quick!"

"How--finish--it?" asked Cleve, hoarsely.

Kells was scintillating now, steely, cold, radiant. He had forgotten

the man before him in the prospect of the gold.

"Creede's cot is on the side of the tent opposite the tree. You

won't have to go inside. Slit the canvas. It's a rotten old tent.

Kill Creede with your knife. ... Get his belt. ... Be bold,

cautious, swift! That's your job. Now what do you say?"

"All right," responded Cleve, somberly, and with a heavy tread he

left the room.

After Jim had gone Joan still watched and listened. She was in

distress over his unfortunate situation, but she had no fear that he

meant to carry out Kells's plan. This was a critical time for Jim,

and therefore for her. She had no idea what Jim could do; all she

thought was what he would not do.

Kells gazed triumphantly at Pearce. "I told you the youngster would

stand by me. I never put him on a job before."

"Reckon I figgered wrong, boss," replied Pearce.

"He looked sick to me, but game," said Handy Oliver. "Kells is

right, Red, an' you've been sore-headed over nothin'!"