"No."
Without answer the Frenchman darted away, and the Lieutenant sped after him through the deserted rows of log-houses.
"Ha! Dere's light," snarled Doret, over his shoulder, as they neared their goal.
"Be careful," panted Burrell. "Wait! Don't knock." He forced Poleon to pause. "Let's find out who's inside. Remember, we're working blind."
He gripped his companion's arm with fingers of steel, and together they crept up to the door, but even before they had gained it they heard a voice within. It was Stark's. The walls of the house were of moss-chinked logs that deadened every sound, but the door itself was of thin, whip-sawed pine boards with ample cracks at top and bottom, and, the room being of small dimensions, they heard plainly. The Lieutenant leaned forward, then with difficulty smothered an exclamation, for he heard another voice now—the voice of John Gale. The words came to him muffled but distinct, and he raised his hand to knock, when, suddenly arrested, he seized Poleon and forced him to his knees, hissing into his ear:
"Listen! Listen! For God's sake, listen!"
For the first time in his tempestuous life Ben Stark lost the iron composure that had made his name a by-word in the West, and at sight of his bitterest enemy seated in the dark of his own house waiting for him he became an ordinary, nervous, frightened man faced by a great peril. It was the utter unexpectedness of the thing that shook him, and before he could regain his balance Gale spoke:
"I've come to settle, Bennett."
"What are you doing here?" the gambler stammered.
"I was up at the soldier's place just now and heard you. I didn't want any interruptions, so I came here where we can be alone." He paused, and, when Stark made no answer, continued, "Well, let's get at it." But still the other made no move. "You've had all the best of it for twenty years," Gale went on, in his level voice, "but to-night I get even. By God! I've lived for this."