A man replied to his whispered question, giving him the story, for the meeting was under Lee's domination, and the miners maintained an orderly and business-like procedure. The chairman's indigestion had vanished with his sudden assumption of responsibility, and he showed no trace of drink in his bearing. Beneath a lamp one was binding four-foot lengths of cotton tent-rope to a broomstick for a knout, while others, whom Lee had appointed, were drawing lots to see upon whom would devolve the unpleasant duty of flogging the captive. The matter-of-fact, relentless expedition of the affair shocked Burrell inexpressibly, and seeing Poleon and Gale near by, he edged towards them, thinking that they surely could not be in sympathy with this barbarous procedure.
"You don't understand, Lieutenant," said Gale, in a low voice. "This nigger is a THIEF!"
"You can't kill a man for stealing a few hams."
"It ain't so much WHAT he stole; it's the idea, and it's the custom of the country."
"Dis stealin' she's bad biznesse," declared Poleon. "Mebbe dose ham is save some poor feller's life."
"It's mob law," said the Lieutenant, indignantly, "and I won't stand for it."
Gale turned a look of curiosity upon the officer. "How are you going to help yourself?" said he; but the young man did not wait to reply. Quickly he elbowed his way towards the centre of the scene with that air of authority and determination before which a crowd melts and men stand aside. Gale whispered to his companion:
"Keep your eye open, lad. There's going to be trouble." They stood on tiptoe, and watched eagerly.
"Gentlemen," announced Burrell, standing near the ashen-gray wretch, and facing the tentful of men, "this man is a thief, but you can't kill him!"
Stark leaned across the bar, his eyes blazing, and touched the Lieutenant on the shoulder.
"Do you mean to take a hand in all of my affairs?"
"This isn't your affair; it's mine," said the officer. "This is what I was sent here for, and it's my particular business. You seem to have overlooked that important fact."
"He stole my stuff, and he'll take his medicine."
For the second time in their brief acquaintance these two men looked fair into each other's eyes. Few men had dared to look at Stark thus and live; for when a man has once shed the blood of his fellow, a mania obsesses him, a disease obtains that is incurable. There is an excitation of every sense when a hunter stands up before big game; it causes a thrill and flutter of undiscovered nerves, which nothing else can conjure up, and which once lived leaves an incessant hunger. But the biggest game of all is man, and the fiercest sensation is hate. Stark had been a killer, and his brain had been seared with the flame till the scar was ineradicable. He had lived those lurid seconds when a man gambles his life against his enemy's, and, having felt the great sensation, it could never die; yet with it all he was a cautious man, given more to brooding on his injuries and building up a quarrel than to reckless paroxysms of passion, and experience had taught him the value of a well-handled temper as well as the wisdom of knowing when to use it and put it in action. He knew intuitively that his hour with Burrell had not yet come.