“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.
“Then I won't join your Legion.”
“What WILL you do?”
“I'll take the men who stand by me and go clean up that gold-camp.”
From the fleeting expression on Kells's face Joan read that he knew Gulden's project would defeat his own and render both enterprises fatal.