She had not even asked why he did not bring her straight to Jack Landis.  She had looked into Donnegan’s tent, furnished with a single blanket and his canvas kit, and had offered to share her pack with him.  And now they sat side by side before the tent and still she asked no questions about what was to come.

Her silence was to Donnegan the dropping of the water upon the hard rock.  He was crumbling under it, and a wild hatred for the colonel rose in him.  No doubt that spirit of evil had foreseen all this; and he knew that every moment spent with the girl would drive Donnegan on closer to the accomplishment of the colonel’s great purpose—­the death of Jack Landis.  For the colonel, as Jack’s next of kin, would take over all his mining interests and free them at a stroke from the silent partnership which apparently existed with Lord Nick and Lester.  One bullet would do all this:  and with Jack dead, who else stood close to the girl?  It was only necessary that she should not know who sped the bullet home.

A horrible fancy grew up in Donnegan, as he sat there, that between him and the girl lay a dead body.

He was glad when the time came and he could tell her that he was going down to The Corner to find Jack Landis and bring him to her.  She rose to watch him go and he heard her say “Come soon!”

It shocked Donnegan into realization that for all her calm exterior she was perfectly aware of the danger of her position in the wild mining camp.  She must know, also, that her reputation would be compromised; yet never once had she winced, and Donnegan was filled with wonder as he went down the hill toward the camp which was spread beneath him; for their tents were a little detached from the main body of the town.  Behind her gentle eyes, he now felt, and under the softness of her voice, there was the same iron nerve that was in her father.  Her hatred could be a deathless passion, and her love also; and the great question to be answered now was, did she truly love Jack Landis?

The Corner at night was like a scene at a circus.  There was the same rush of people, the same irregular flush of lights, the same glimmer of lanterns through canvas, the same air of impermanence.  Once, in one of those hushes which will fall upon every crowd, he heard a coyote wailing sharply and far away, as though the desert had sent out this voice to mock at The Corner and all it contained.

He had only to ask once to discover where Landis was:  Milligan’s dance hall.  Before Milligan’s place a bonfire burned from the beginning of dusk to the coming of day; and until the time when that fire was quenched with buckets of water, it was a sign to all that the merriment was under way in the dance hall.  If Lebrun’s was the sun of the amusement world in The Corner, Milligan’s was the moon.  Everybody who had money to lose went to Lebrun’s.  Every one who was out for gayety went to Milligan’s.  Milligan was a plunger.