her come--or--"

"You don't strike me as a fool," interrupted Kells. His voice was
suave, smooth, persuasive, cool. What strength--what certainty
appeared behind it! "It's not my habit to argue with fools. Take the
chance I offer you. Hit the trail. Life is precious, man! ... You've
no chance here. And what's one girl more or less to you?"

"Kells, I may be a fool, but I'm a man," passionately rejoined
Roberts. "Why, you're somethin' inhuman! I knew that out in the
gold-fields. But to think you can stand there--an' talk sweet an'
pleasant--with no idee of manhood! ... Let her come now--or--or I'm
a-goin' for my gun!"

"Roberts, haven't you a wife--children?"

"Yes, I have," shouted Roberts, huskily. "An' that wife would disown
me if I left Joan Randle to you. An' I've got a grown girl. Mebbe
some day she might need a man to stand between her an' such as you,
Jack Kells!"

All Roberts' pathos and passion had no effect, unless to bring out
by contrast the singular and ruthless nature of Jack Kells.

"Will you hit the trail?"

"No!" thundered Roberts,

Until then Joan Randle had been fascinated, held by the swift
interchange between her friend and enemy. But now she had a