“Jim, how about guns?” asked the bandit.
“I've got two,” replied Cleve.
“Good! There's no telling—Jim, I'm afraid of the gang. They're crazy. What do you think?”
“I don't know. It's a hard proposition.”
“We'll get away, all right. Don't worry about that. But the gang will never come together again.” This singular man spoke with melancholy. “Slow up a little now,” he added. “We don't want to attract attention.... But where is there any one to see us?... Jim, did I have you figured right about the Creede job?”
“You sure did. I just lost my nerve.”
“Well, no matter.”
Then Kells appeared to forget that. He stalked on with keen glances searching everywhere, until suddenly, when he saw round a bend of the road, he halted with grating teeth. That road was empty all the way to the other end of camp, but there surged a dark mob of men. Kells stalked forward again. The Last Nugget appeared like an empty barn. How vacant and significant the whole center of camp! Kells did not speak another word.
Joan hurried on between Kells and Cleve. She was trying to fortify herself to meet what lay at the end of the road. A strange, hoarse roar of men and an upflinging of arms made her shudder. She kept her eyes lowered and clung to the arms of her companions.
Finally they halted. She felt the crowd before she saw it. A motley assemblage with what seemed craned necks and intent backs! They were all looking forward and upward. But she forced her glance down.