He was shivering and almost sick in his sudden fright at the idea of facing Louisiana. The others, however, were skeptical and contemptuous.

"Same old Buffalo Bill and Alkali Ike stuff!" said the pugilist sneeringly. "I ain't afraid of this guy!"

"Well--neither am I," said the man from Arkansas, complacently. "He ain't the only one that can shoot, I reckon."

Banker fairly fawned upon them. "Yes," he cried. "You-all are good fellers and you ain't afraid. You'll down Louisiana if he comes. But he won't come, I reckon."

"He _is_ coming," said Solange. "Not many hours ago I heard him say that he was going to 'jump your claim,' which he said did not belong to you. And he intimated that there would be a fight and that he would welcome it."

The three men were startled, looking at one another keenly. Banker licked his lips and was unmistakably frightened more than ever. But in his red eyes the flame of lunacy was slowly mounting.

"If I had old Betsy here----" he muttered.

"He ain't goin' to jump this mine," said the man from Arkansas, grimly. "Me and Slugger, here, has an interest in that mine. We works it on shares with Jim. If this shootin' sport comes round, we'll know what to do with him."

"Slugger," however, was more practical. "We'll take care of him," he agreed, slapping his side where a pistol hung. "But if there's money in gettin' him, I want to know how much. What'll you pay, ma'am?"

"A--a thousand dollars is all I have," said Solange. "You shall have that, messieurs."

But, somehow, her voice had faltered as though she, now, were frightened at what she had done and regretted it. Some insistent doubt, hitherto buried under her despair and rage, was struggling to the surface. As she watched these sinister scoundrels muttering together and concerting the downfall of the man who was her husband--and perhaps something more, to her--she felt a panic growing in her, an impulse to spring up and rush out, back on the trail to warn De Launay. But she suppressed it, cruelly scourging herself to remembrance of her dead father and her vow of vengeance. She tried to whip the flagging sense of outrage at the trick that the brutal Louisiana had played upon her in allowing her to marry him.

"If he lights around here," she heard Banker cackling, "we'll down him, we will! I'll add a thousand more to what the lady gives. We'll keep a lookout, boys, an' when he shows up, he dies!"

Then his shrill, evil cry arose again and men turned from their pursuits to look at him. The foam stood on his lips, writhen into a snarl over yellow fangs and his red eyes flamed with insanity.

"He'll die! They all dies! Only old Jim don't die. French Pete dies; Panamint dies; that there young Dave dies! But old Jim don't die!"

Solange turned pale as he half rose, leaning on the table with one hand while the other rested on the b.u.t.t of his six-shooter. A great terror surged over her as she saw what she had let loose on her lover.

Her lover! For the first time she realized that he was her lover and that, despite crime and insult and deadly injury, he could be nothing else. She staggered to her feet, shoving back the brim of her hat, her wonderful eyes showing for the first time as she turned them on these grim wolves who faced her.

"My G.o.d!" said the bruiser, in a sudden burst of awe as he was caught by the fathomless depths. The man from Arkansas could not see them so clearly, but he sensed something disturbing and unusual. Banker faced her and tried to tear his own eyes from her.

Then, as they stood and sat in tableau, the flimsy door to the shack flew open and Louisiana stood on the threshold, holsters sagging on each hip and tied down around his thighs.

CHAPTER XXIII

TO THE VALE OF AVALON

Slowly the sense of something terrible and menacing was borne in on those who grouped themselves at the table. First there came a diminishing of the sounds that filled the place. They died away like a fading wind. Then the chill sweep of air from the door surged across the room, like a great fear congealing the blood. In the sloppy mess underfoot could be heard the sucking, splashing sound of feet moving, as men all about drew back instinctively and rapidly to be out of the way.

Solange felt what had happened rather than saw it. The fearful convulsion of fright, followed by maniac rage that leaped to Banker's face told her as though he had shouted the news. His companions and allies were merely stupefied and startled.

With an impulse to cry out a warning or to rush to him and throw her body between De Launay and these enemies, she suddenly whirled about to face him. She saw him standing in the doorway, the night black behind him except where the light fell on untrodden snow. Dim and shadowy in the open air of the roadway were groups of figures. The yelping and snarling of dogs floated into the place and she could see their wolfish figures between the legs of men and horses.

De Launay stood upright, hands outstretched at the level of his shoulders and resting against the sides of the doorway. He was open to and scornful of attack. His clean features were set sternly and his eyes looked levelly into the reeking interior, straight at Solange and the three men grouped behind her.

"Monsieur de Launay!" she cried. His eyes flickered over her and focused again on the men.

"Louisiana--at your service," he answered, quietly.

In some wild desire to urge him back she choked out words.

"Why--why did you come?"

He did not answer her direct but raised his voice a little, though still without emotion.

"Jim Banker," he said, "I came for you. There are others out here who have also come for you--but I am holding them back. I want you myself."

Out of Banker's foaming lips came a snarling cry.

"Wh-what fer?"

Again the answer was not direct, and this time it was Solange he spoke to, though he did not alter the direction of his gaze.

"Mademoiselle, you are directly in line with these--men. You had better move aside."

But Solange felt the pressure of a gun muzzle at her back and the snarl was in her ear.

"You don't move none! Stand where you be, or I'll take you fust and git him next!"

Nevertheless she would have moved, had not De Launay caught the knowledge of her peril. He spoke again, still calm but with a new, steely note in his voice.

"Stand fast, mademoiselle, then, if they must have you for a shield.

But don't move. Shut your eyes!"

Hardly knowing why, she obeyed, oblivious of the peril to herself but in an agony lest her presence and position increase his danger. De Launay dominated her, and she stood as rigid as a statue, awaiting the cataclysm.

But he was speaking again.

"The wolves dug up the body of Dave MacKay, Banker, and the men outside found it. What you did to Wallace the other day he has recovered sufficiently to tell us. What you tried to do to this young woman I have also told them. Shall I tell her, and the others, who killed French Pete nineteen years ago?"

Again came the whining, shrill snarl from behind Solange.

"You did, you----"

"So you have said before, Jim. But I have the bullet that killed Pete d'Albret. I also have the bullet you shot at me when I came up to save mademoiselle from you a week ago. Those two are of the same caliber, Banker. It's a caliber that's common enough nowadays but wasn't very common in nineteen hundred. Who shot a Savage .303, nineteen years ago, and who shoots that same rifle to-day?"

There was a slow mutter of astonishment rising from the men crowded about the walls and in front of the crude bar. It was a murmur that contained the elements of a threat.

"I give you first shot, Jim," came the half-mocking voice of De Launay beating, half heard, on Solange's ears, where the astounding reversal of her notions was causing her brain almost to reel. Then she heard the whistling scream of Banker, quite lunatic by now, as he lost all sense of fear in his rising madness.

"By heaven, but you don't git me, Louisiana! n.o.body gits old Jim. They all die--all but old Jim!"

The shattering concussion of a shot fired within an inch or two of her ear almost stunned her. She felt the powder burning her cheek. Almost against her will her eyes flew open to see the figure in the door jerk and sag a little. Triumphant and horrible came Banker's scream.