"I am going," she answered. To his further remonstrances she interposed a stony silence. He gave it up after a while. As though that were a signal, she became more loquacious. "In a mining camp, one would suppose that the men, as you have said, are violent and fierce?" "They're sure likely to be some wolfish, ma'am," he agreed. In hope that she would be deterred by exaggeration, he dwelt on the subject. "The gunmen and hoss thieves and tinhorn gamblers all come in on the rush. There's a lot of them hobos and wobblies--reds and anarchists and such--floatin' round the country, and they're sure to be in on it, too. I reckon any of them would cut a throat or down a man for two bits in lead money. Then there's the kind of women that follows a rush--the kind you wouldn't want to be seen with even--and the men might allow you was the same kind if you come rackin' in among 'em." Solange listened thoughtfully and even smiled bleakly. "These men would kill, you say, for money?" "For money, marbles or chalk," said Sucatash. He was about to embellish this when she nodded with satisfaction. "That is good," she said. "And, if not for money, for a woman--one of that kind of woman--they would shoot a man?" Sucatash blanched. "What are you drivin' at, ma'am?" "They will kill for me, for money--or if that is not enough--for a woman; such a woman as I am. Will they not, Monsieur Sucatash?" "Kill who?" He knew the answer, though, before she spoke: "Louisiana!" Shocked, he ventured a feeble remonstrance. "He's your husband, ma'am!" But this drove her to a wild outburst in startling contrast to her former quiescence. "My husband! Yes, my husband who has defiled me as no other on earth could have soiled and degraded me! My husband! Oh, he shall be killed if I must sell myself body and soul to the man who shoots him down!" Then she whirled on him. "Monsieur Sucatash! You have said to me that you liked me. Maybe indeed, you have loved me a little! Well, if you will kill that man for me--you may have me!" Sucatash groaned, staring at her as though fascinated. She threw back her head, turning to him, her face upraised. The sweetly curved lips were half parted, showing little white teeth. On the satin cheeks a spot of pink showed. The lids were drooping over the deep eyes, veiling them, hiding all but a hint of the mystery and beauty behind them. "Am I not worth a man's life?" she murmured. "You're worth a dozen murders and any number of other crimes," said Sucatash gruffly. He turned his head away. "But you got me wrong. If he was what you think, I'd smoke him up in a minute and you'd not owe me a thing. But, ma'am, I know better'n you do how you really feel. You think you want him killed--but you don't." Solange abruptly straightened round and rode ahead without another word. Morosely, Sucatash followed.