He handed a small buckskin sack to Gulden. Someone made room for him
on the other side of the table, and the game was resumed. It was
interesting to watch them gamble. Red Pearce had a scale at his end
of the table, and he was always measuring and weighing out gold-
dust. The value of the gold appeared to be fifteen dollars to the
ounce, but the real value of money did not actuate the gamblers.
They spilled the dust on the table and ground as if it were as
common as sand. Still there did not seem to be any great quantity of
gold in sight. Evidently these were not profitable times for the
bandits. More than once Joan heard them speak of a gold strike as
honest people spoke of good fortune. And these robbers could only
have meant that in case of a rich strike there would be gold to
steal. Gulden gambled as he did everything else. At first he won and
then he lost, and then he borrowed more from Kells, to win again. He
paid back as he had borrowed and lost and won--without feeling. He
had no excitement. Joan's intuition convinced her that if Gulden had
any motive at all in gambling it was only an antagonism to men of
his breed. Gambling was a contest, a kind of fight.
Most of the men except Gulden drank heavily that night. There had
been fresh liquor come with the last pack-train. Many of them were
drunk when the game broke up. Red Pearce and Wood remained behind
with Kells after the others had gone, and Pearce was clever enough
to cheat Kells before he left.
"Boss--thet there Red double--crossed you," said Bate Wood.
Kells had lost heavily, and he was under the influence of drink. He
drove Wood out of the cabin, cursing him sullenly. Then he put in
place the several bars that served as a door of his cabin. After
that he walked unsteadily around, and all about his action and
manner that was not aimless seemed to be dark and intermittent
staring toward Joan's cabin. She felt sickened again with this new
aspect of her situation, but she was not in the least afraid of
Kells. She watched him till he approached her door and then she drew
back a little. He paused before the blanket as if he had been
impelled to halt from fear. He seemed to be groping in thought. Then
he cautiously and gradually, by degrees, drew aside the blanket. He
could not see Joan in the darkness, but she saw him plainly. He
fumbled at the poles, and, finding that he could not budge them, he
ceased trying. There was nothing forceful or strong about him, such
as was manifest when he was sober. He stood there a moment,
breathing heavily, in a kind of forlorn, undecided way, and then he
turned back. Joan heard him snap the lanterns. The lights went out
and all grew dark and silent.