The Border Legion

Kells had begun under restraint, but the sound of his voice, the

liberation of his great idea, roused him to a passion. The man

radiated with passion. This, then, was his dream--the empire he

aspired to.

He had a powerful effect upon his listeners, except Gulden; and it

was evident to Joan that the keen bandit was conscious of his

influence. Gulden, however, showed nothing that he had not already

showed. He was always a strange, dominating figure. He contested the

relations of things. Kells watched him--the men watched him--and Jim

Cleve's piercing eyes glittered in the shadow, fixed upon that

massive face. Manifestly Gulden meant to speak, but in his slowness

there was no laboring, no pause from emotion. He had an idea and it

moved like he moved.

"DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES!" The words boomed deep from his cavernous

chest, a mutter that was a rumble, with something almost solemn in

its note and certainly menacing, breathing murder. As Kells had

propounded his ideas, revealing his power to devise a remarkable

scheme and his passion for gold, so Gulden struck out with the

driving inhuman blood-lust that must have been the twist, the knot,

the clot in his brain. Kells craved notoriety and gold; Gulden

craved to kill. In the silence that followed his speech these wild

border ruffians judged him, measured him, understood him, and though

some of them grew farther aloof from him, more of them sensed the

safety that hid in his terrible implication.

But Kells rose against him.

"Gulden, you mean when we steal gold--to leave only dead men

behind?" he queried, with a hiss in his voice.

The giant nodded grimly.

"But only fools kill--unless in self-defense," declared Kells,

passionately.

"We'd last longer," replied Gulden, imperturbably.

"No--no. We'd never last so long. Killings rouse a mining-camp after

a while--gold fever or no. That means a vigilante band."

"We can belong to the vigilantes, just as well as to your Legion,"

said Gulden.

The effect of this was to make Gulden appear less of a fool than

Kells supposed him. The ruffians nodded to one another. They stirred

restlessly. They were animated by a strange and provocative

influence. Even Red Pearce and the others caught its subtlety. It

was evil predominating in evil hearts. Blood and death loomed like a

shadow here. The keen Kells saw the change working toward a

transformation and he seemed craftily fighting something within him

that opposed this cold ruthlessness of his men.

"Gulden, suppose I don't see it your way?" he asked.