The Border Legion

Joan turned away from the door in a cold clamp of relief. The shadow

of death hovered over these men. She must fortify herself to live

under that shadow, to be prepared for any sudden violence, to stand

a succession of shocks that inevitably would come. She listened. The

men were talking and laughing now; there came a click of chips, the

spat of a thrown card, the thump of a little sack of gold. Ahead of

her lay the long hours of night in which these men would hold revel.

Only a faint ray of light penetrated her cabin, but it was

sufficient for her to distinguish objects. She set about putting the

poles in place to barricade the opening. When she had finished she

knew she was safe at least from intrusion. Who had constructed that

rude door and for what purpose? Then she yielded to the temptation

to peep once more under the edge of the curtain.

The room was cloudy and blue with smoke. She saw Jim Cleve at a

table gambling with several ruffians. His back was turned, yet Joan

felt the contrast of his attitude toward the game, compared with

that of the others. They were tense, fierce, and intent upon every

throw of a card. Cleve's very poise of head and movement of arm

betrayed his indifference. One of the gamblers howled his disgust,

slammed down his cards, and got up.

"He's cleaned out," said one, in devilish glee.

"Naw, he ain't," voiced another. "He's got two fruit-cans full of

dust. I saw 'em. ... He's just lay down--like a poisoned coyote."

"Shore I'm glad Cleve's got the luck, fer mebbe he'll give my gold

back," spoke up another gamester, with a laugh.

"Wal, he certainlee is the chilvalus card sharp," rejoined the last

player. "Jim, was you allus as lucky in love as in cards?"

"Lucky in love? ... Sure!" answered Jim Cleve, with a mocking,

reckless ring in his voice.

"Funny, ain't thet, boys? Now there's the boss. Kells can sure win

the gurls, but he's a pore gambler." Kells heard this speech, and he

laughed with the others. "Hey, you greaser, you never won any of my

money," he said.

"Come an' set in, boss. Come an' see your gold fade away. You can't

stop this Jim Cleve. Luck--bull luck straddles his neck. He'll win

your gold--your hosses an' saddles an' spurs an' guns--an' your

shirt, if you've nerve enough to bet it."

The speaker slapped his cards upon the table while he gazed at Cleve

in grieved admiration. Kells walked over to the group and he put his

hand on Cleve's shoulder.