ringing down the cañon as I lay beside the tree, and my heart turned cold as I heard it.
"Life for gold," he cried, "a life for gold. The blood and the life of an enemy for every pound of gold."
A man stepped out and raised one hand, and with the other flung a bright lump of something into the pan of the scales, which clanged down, and Smith muttered something in his ear. Then he cried again:
"Blood for gold; for a pound of gold, the life of an enemy. For every pound of gold upon the scales, a life."
One by one the men came forward, each lifting up his right hand; and the gold was weighed in the scales, and each time Smith leaned forward and spoke to each man in his ear. Then he cried again:—
"Desire and lust, for gold on the scales. For every pound of gold, enjoyment of desire."
I saw the same thing happen as before; the uplifted hand, and the metal weighed, and the mouth whispering, and black passion on every face.
Then, one by one, I saw the men again step up to Smith. A muttered conversation seemed to take place; I could see that Smith was explaining and directing, and I noticed that he gesticulated a little as one who points out the way, and once or twice he moved his hands quickly as if he would show that the path was clear and could not be missed. I kept my eyes so intently on his figure that I noted little else, and at last it was with a start that I realized that the cañon was empty. A moment before I thought I had seen the group of villainous faces, and the two
