diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/thbrd10.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/thbrd10.txt | 11717 |
1 files changed, 11717 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/thbrd10.txt b/old/thbrd10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..09b9d7f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/thbrd10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11717 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Border Legion, by Zane Grey +(#14 in our series by Zane Grey) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before distributing this or any other +Project Gutenberg file. + +We encourage you to keep this file, exactly as it is, on your +own disk, thereby keeping an electronic path open for future +readers. Please do not remove this. + +This header should be the first thing seen when anyone starts to +view the etext. Do not change or edit it without written permission. +The words are carefully chosen to provide users with the +information they need to understand what they may and may not +do with the etext. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These Etexts Are Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get etexts, and +further information, is included below. We need your donations. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3) +organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541 + + + +Title: The Border Legion + +Author: Zane Grey + +Release Date: October, 2003 [Etext #4552] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on February 9, 2002] +[Date last updated: August 20, 2005] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Border Legion +by Zane Grey +******This file should be named thbrd10.txt or thbrd10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, thbrd11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, thbrd10a.txt + +Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep etexts in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our etexts one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +etexts, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any Etext before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2001 as we release over 50 new Etext +files per month, or 500 more Etexts in 2000 for a total of 4000+ +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +should reach over 300 billion Etexts given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third +of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 4,000 Etexts. We need +funding, as well as continued efforts by volunteers, to maintain +or increase our production and reach our goals. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of November, 2001, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Arkansas, Connecticut, Delaware, +Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, +Louisiana, Maine, Michigan, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Oklahoma, Oregon, +Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, +Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, +and Wyoming. + +*In Progress + +We have filed in about 45 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +All donations should be made to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fundraising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fundraising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etexts, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this etext, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the etext, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* + + + + +Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +THE BORDER LEGION + +Zane Grey + + + +1 + +Joan Randle reined in her horse on the crest of the cedar ridge, and +with remorse and dread beginning to knock at her heart she gazed +before her at the wild and looming mountain range. + +"Jim wasn't fooling me," she said. "He meant it. He's going straight +for the border ... Oh, why did I taunt him!" + +It was indeed a wild place, that southern border of Idaho, and that +year was to see the ushering in of the wildest time probably ever +known in the West. The rush for gold had peopled California with a +horde of lawless men of every kind and class. And the vigilantes and +then the rich strikes in Idaho had caused a reflux of that dark tide +of humanity. Strange tales of blood and gold drifted into the camps, +and prospectors and hunters met with many unknown men. + +Joan had quarreled with Jim Cleve, and she was bitterly regretting +it. Joan was twenty years old, tall, strong, dark. She had been born +in Missouri, where her father had been well-to-do and prominent, +until, like many another man of his day, he had impeded the passage +of a bullet. Then Joan had become the protegee of an uncle who had +responded to the call of gold; and the latter part of her life had +been spent in the wilds. + +She had followed Jim's trail for miles out toward the range. And now +she dismounted to see if his tracks were as fresh as she had +believed. He had left the little village camp about sunrise. Someone +had seen him riding away and had told Joan. Then he had tarried on +the way, for it was now midday. Joan pondered. She had become used +to his idle threats and disgusted with his vacillations. That had +been the trouble--Jim was amiable, lovable, but since meeting Joan +he had not exhibited any strength of character. Joan stood beside +her horse and looked away toward the dark mountains. She was daring, +resourceful, used to horses and trails and taking care of herself; +and she did not need anyone to tell her that she had gone far +enough. It had been her hope to come up with Jim. Always he had been +repentant. But this time was different. She recalled his lean, pale +face--so pale that freckles she did not know he had showed through-- +and his eyes, usually so soft and mild, had glinted like steel. Yes, +it had been a bitter, reckless face. What had she said to him? She +tried to recall it. + +The night before at twilight Joan had waited for him. She had given +him precedence over the few other young men of the village, a fact +she resentfully believed he did not appreciate. Jim was +unsatisfactory in every way except in the way he cared for her. And +that also--for he cared too much. + +When Joan thought how Jim loved her, all the details of that night +became vivid. She sat alone under the spruce-trees near the cabin. +The shadows thickened, and then lightened under a rising moon. She +heard the low hum of insects, a distant laugh of some woman of the +village, and the murmur of the brook. Jim was later than usual. Very +likely, as her uncle had hinted, Jim had tarried at the saloon that +had lately disrupted the peace of the village. The village was +growing, and Joan did not like the change. There were too many +strangers, rough, loud-voiced, drinking men. Once it had been a +pleasure to go to the village store; now it was an ordeal. Somehow +Jim had seemed to be unfavorably influenced by these new conditions. +Still, he had never amounted to much. Her resentment, or some +feeling she had, was reaching a climax. She got up from her seat. +She would not wait any longer for him, and when she did see him it +would be to tell him a few blunt facts. + +Just then there was a slight rustle behind her. Before she could +turn someone seized her in powerful arms. She was bent backward in a +bearish embrace, so that she could neither struggle nor cry out. A +dark face loomed over hers--came closer. Swift kisses closed her +eyes, burned her cheeks, and ended passionately on her lips. They +had some strange power over her. Then she was released. + +Joan staggered back, frightened, outraged. She was so dazed she did +not recognize the man, if indeed she knew him. But a laugh betrayed +him. It was Jim. + +"You thought I had no nerve," he said. "What do you think of that?" + +Suddenly Joan was blindly furious. She could have killed him. She +had never given him any right, never made him any promise, never let +him believe she cared. And he had dared--! The hot blood boiled in +her cheeks. She was furious with him, but intolerably so with +herself, because somehow those kisses she had resented gave her +unknown pain and shame. They had sent a shock through all her being. +She thought she hated him. + +"You--you--" she broke out. "Jim Cleve, that ends you with me!" + +"Reckon I never had a beginning with you," he replied, bitterly. "It +was worth a good deal ... I'm not sorry ... By Heaven--I've--kissed +you!" + +He breathed heavily. She could see how pale he had grown in the +shadowy moonlight. She sensed a difference in him--a cool, reckless +defiance. + +"You'll be sorry," she said. "I'll have nothing to do with you any +more." + +"All right. But I'm not, and I won't be sorry." + +She wondered whether he had fallen under the influence of drink. Jim +had never cared for liquor, which virtue was about the only one he +possessed. Remembering his kisses, she knew he had not been +drinking. There was a strangeness about him, though, that she could +not fathom. Had he guessed his kisses would have that power? If he +dared again--! She trembled, and it was not only rage. But she would +teach him a lesson. + +"Joan, I kissed you because I can't be a hangdog any longer," he +said. "I love you and I'm no good without you. You must care a +little for me. Let's marry ... I'll--" + +"Never!" she replied, like flint. "You're no good at all." + +"But I am," he protested, with passion. "I used to do things. But +since--since I've met you I've lost my nerve. I'm crazy for you. You +let the other men run after you. Some of them aren't fit to--to--Oh, +I'm sick all the time! Now it's longing and then it's jealousy. Give +me a chance, Joan." + +"Why?" she queried, coldly. "Why should I? You're shiftless. You +won't work. When you do find a little gold you squander it. You have +nothing but a gun. You can't do anything but shoot." + +"Maybe that'll come in handy," he said, lightly. + +"Jim Cleve, you haven't it in you even to be BAD," she went on, +stingingly. + +At that he made a violent gesture. Then he loomed over her. "Joan +Handle, do you mean that?" he asked. + +"I surely do," she responded. At last she had struck fire from him. +The fact was interesting. It lessened her anger. + +"Then I'm so low, so worthless, so spineless that I can't even be +bad?" + +"Yes, you are." + +"That's what you think of me--after I've ruined myself for love of +you?" + +She laughed tauntingly. How strange and hot a glee she felt in +hurting him! + +"By God, I'll show you!" he cried, hoarsely. + +"What will you do, Jim?" she asked, mockingly. + +"I'll shake this camp. I'll rustle for the border. I'll get in with +Kells and Gulden ... You'll hear of me, Joan Randle!" + +These were names of strange, unknown, and wild men of a growing and +terrible legion on the border. Out there, somewhere, lived +desperados, robbers, road-agents, murderers. More and more rumor had +brought tidings of them into the once quiet village. Joan felt a +slight cold sinking sensation at her heart. But this was only a +magnificent threat of Jim's. He could not do such a thing. She would +never let him, even if he could. But after the incomprehensible +manner of woman, she did not tell him that. + +"Bah! You haven't the nerve!" she retorted, with another mocking +laugh. + +Haggard and fierce, he glared down at her a moment, and then without +another word he strode away. Joan was amazed, and a little sick, a +little uncertain: still she did not call him back. + +And now at noon of the next day she had tracked him miles toward the +mountains. It was a broad trail he had taken, one used by +prospectors and hunters. There was no danger of her getting lost. +What risk she ran was of meeting some of these border ruffians that +had of late been frequent visitors in the village. Presently she +mounted again and rode down the ridge. She would go a mile or so +farther. + +Behind every rock and cedar she expected to find Jim. Surely he had +only threatened her. But she had taunted him in a way no man could +stand, and if there were any strength of character in him he would +show it now. Her remorse and dread increased. After all, he was only +a boy--only a couple of years older than she was. Under stress of +feeling he might go to any extreme. Had she misjudged him? If she +had not, she had at least been brutal. But he had dared to kiss her! +Every time she thought of that a tingling, a confusion, a hot shame +went over her. And at length Joan marveled to find that out of the +affront to her pride, and the quarrel, and the fact of his going and +of her following, and especially out of this increasing remorseful +dread, there had flourished up a strange and reluctant respect for +Jim Cleve. + +She climbed another ridge and halted again. This time she saw a +horse and rider down in the green. Her heart leaped. It must be Jim +returning. After all, then, he had only threatened. She felt +relieved and glad, yet vaguely sorry. She had been right in her +conviction. + +She had not watched long, however, before she saw that this was not +the horse Jim usually rode. She took the precaution then to hide +behind some bushes, and watched from there. When the horseman +approached closer she discerned that instead of Jim it was Harvey +Roberts, a man of the village and a good friend of her uncle's. +Therefore she rode out of her covert and hailed him. It was a +significant thing that at the sound of her voice Roberts started +suddenly and reached for his gun. Then he recognized her. + +"Hello, Joan!" he exclaimed, turning her way. "Reckon you give me a +scare. You ain't alone way out here?" + +"Yes. I was trailing Jim when I saw you," she replied. "Thought you +were Jim." + +"Trailin' Jim! What's up?" + +"We quarreled. He swore he was going to the devil. Over on the +border! I was mad and told him to go. ... But I'm sorry now--and +have been trying to catch up with him." + +"Ahuh! ... So that's Jim's trail. I sure was wonderin'. Joan, it +turns off a few miles back an' takes the trail for the border. I +know. I've been in there." + +Joan glanced up sharply at Roberts. His scarred and grizzled face +seemed grave and he avoided her gaze. + +"You don't believe--Jim'll really go?" she asked, hurriedly. + +"Reckon I do, Joan," he replied, after a pause. "Jim is just fool +enough. He had been gettrn' recklessler lately. An', Joan, the times +ain't provocatin' a young feller to be good. Jim had a bad fight the +other night. He about half killed young Bradley. But I reckon you +know." + +"I've heard nothing," she replied. "Tell me. Why did they fight?" + +"Report was that Bradley talked oncomplementary about you." + +Joan experienced a sweet, warm rush of blood--another new and +strange emotion. She did not like Bradley. He had been persistent +and offensive. + +"Why didn't Jim tell me?" she queried, half to herself. + +"Reckon he wasn't proud of the shape he left Bradley in," replied +Roberts, with a laugh. "Come on, Joan, an' make back tracks for +home." + +Joan was silent a moment while she looked over the undulating green +ridges toward the great gray and black walls. Something stirred deep +within her. Her father in his youth had been an adventurer. She felt +the thrill and the call of her blood. And she had been unjust to a +man who loved her. + +"I'm going after him," she said. + +Roberts did not show any surprise. He looked at the position of the +sun. "Reckon we might overtake him an' get home before sundown," he +said, laconically, as he turned his horse. "We'll make a short cut +across here a few miles, an' strike his trail. Can't miss it." + +Then he set off at a brisk trot and Joan fell in behind. She had a +busy mind, and it was a sign of her preoccupation that she forgot to +thank Roberts. Presently they struck into a valley, a narrow +depression between the foothills and the ridges, and here they made +faster time. The valley appeared miles long. Toward the middle of it +Roberts called out to Joan, and, looking down, she saw they had come +up with Jim's trail. Here Roberts put his mount to a canter, and at +that gait they trailed Jim out of the valley and up a slope which +appeared to be a pass into the mountains. Time flew by for Joan, +because she was always peering ahead in the hope and expectation of +seeing Jim off in the distance. But she had no glimpse of him. Now +and then Roberts would glance around at the westering sun. The +afternoon had far advanced. Joan began to worry about home. She had +been so sure of coming up with Jim and returning early in the day +that she had left no word as to her intentions. Probably by this +time somebody was out looking for her. + +The country grew rougher, rock-strewn, covered with cedars and +patches of pine. Deer crashed out of the thickets and grouse whirred +up from under the horses. The warmth of the summer afternoon +chilled. + +"Reckon we'd better give it up," called Roberts back to her. + +"No--no. Go on," replied Joan. + +And they urged their horses faster. Finally they reached the summit +of the slope. From that height they saw down into a round, shallow +valley, which led on, like all the deceptive reaches, to the ranges. +There was water down there. It glinted like red ribbon in the +sunlight. Not a living thing was in sight. Joan grew more +discouraged. It seemed there was scarcely any hope of overtaking Jim +that day. His trail led off round to the left and grew difficult to +follow. Finally, to make matters worse, Roberts's horse slipped in a +rocky wash and lamed himself. He did not want to go on, and, when +urged, could hardly walk. + +Roberts got off to examine the injury. "Wal, he didn't break his +leg," he said, which was his manner of telling how bad the injury +was. "Joan, I reckon there'll be some worryin' back home tonight. +For your horse can't carry double an' I can't walk." + +Joan dismounted. There was water in the wash, and she helped Roberts +bathe the sprained and swelling joint. In the interest and sympathy +of the moment she forgot her own trouble. + +"Reckon we'll have to make camp right here," said Roberts, looking +around. "Lucky I've a pack on that saddle. I can make you +comfortable. But we'd better be careful about a fire an' not have +one after dark." + +"There's no help for it," replied Joan. "Tomorrow we'll go on after +Jim. He can't be far ahead now." She was glad that it was impossible +to return home until the next day. + +Roberts took the pack off his horse, and then the saddle. And he was +bending over in the act of loosening the cinches of Joan's saddle +when suddenly he straightened up with a jerk. + +"What's that?" + +Joan heard soft, dull thumps on the turf and then the sharp crack of +an unshod hoof upon stone. Wheeling, she saw three horsemen. They +were just across the wash and coming toward her. One rider pointed +in her direction. Silhouetted against the red of the sunset they +made dark and sinister figures. Joan glanced apprehensively at +Roberts. He was staring with a look of recognition in his eyes. +Under his breath he muttered a curse. And although Joan was not +certain, she believed that his face had shaded gray. + +The three horsemen halted on the rim of the wash. One of them was +leading a mule that carried a pack and a deer carcass. Joan had seen +many riders apparently just like these, but none had ever so subtly +and powerfully affected her. + +"Howdy," greeted one of the men. + +And then Joan was positive that the face of Roberts had turned ashen +gray. + + + + +2 + +"It ain't you--KELLS?" + +Roberts's query was a confirmation of his own recognition. And the +other's laugh was an answer, if one were needed. + +The three horsemen crossed the wash and again halted, leisurely, as +if time was no object. They were all young, under thirty. The two +who had not spoken were rough-garbed, coarse-featured, and resembled +in general a dozen men Joan saw every day. Kells was of a different +stamp. Until he looked at her he reminded her of someone she had +known back in Missouri; after he looked at her she was aware, in a +curious, sickening way, that no such person as he had ever before +seen her. He was pale, gray-eyed, intelligent, amiable. He appeared +to be a man who had been a gentleman. But there was something +strange, intangible, immense about him. Was that the effect of his +presence or of his name? Kells! It was only a word to Joan. But it +carried a nameless and terrible suggestion. During the last year +many dark tales had gone from camp to camp in Idaho--some too +strange, too horrible for credence--and with every rumor the fame of +Kells had grown, and also a fearful certainty of the rapid growth of +a legion of evil men out on the border. But no one in the village or +from any of the camps ever admitted having seen this Kells. Had fear +kept them silent? Joan was amazed that Roberts evidently knew this +man. + +Kells dismounted and offered his hand. Roberts took it and shook it +constrainedly. + +"Where did we meet last?" asked Kells. + +"Reckon it was out of Fresno," replied Roberts, and it was evident +that he tried to hide the effect of a memory. + +Then Kells touched his hat to Joan, giving her the fleetest kind of +a glance. "Rather off the track aren't you?" he asked Roberts. + +"Reckon we are," replied Roberts, and he began to lose some of his +restraint. His voice sounded clearer and did not halt. "Been +trailin' Miss Randle's favorite hoss. He's lost. An' we got farther +'n we had any idee. Then my hoss went lame. 'Fraid we can't start +home to-night." + +"Where are you from?" + +"Hoadley. Bill Hoadley's town, back thirty miles or so." + +"Well, Roberts, if you've no objection we'll camp here with you," +continued Kells. "We've got some fresh meat." + +With that he addressed a word to his comrades, and they repaired to +a cedar-tree near-by, where they began to unsaddle and unpack. + +Then Roberts, bending nearer Joan, as if intent on his own pack, +began to whisper, hoarsely: "That's Jack Kells, the California road- +agent. He's a gun fighter--a hell-bent rattlesnake. When I saw him +last he had a rope round his neck an' was bein' led away to be +hanged. I heerd afterward he was rescued by pals. Joan, if the idee +comes into his head he'll kill me. I don't know what to do. For +God's sake think of somethin'! ... Use your woman's wits! ... We +couldn't be in a wuss fix!" + +Joan felt rather unsteady on her feet, so that it was a relief to +sit down. She was cold and sick inwardly, almost stunned. Some great +peril menaced her. Men like Roberts did not talk that way without +cause. She was brave; she was not unused to danger. But this must be +a different kind, compared with which all she had experienced was +but insignificant. She could not grasp Roberts's intimation. Why +should he be killed? They had no gold, no valuables. Even their +horses were nothing to inspire robbery. It must be that there was +peril to Roberts and to her because she was a girl, caught out in +the wilds, easy prey for beasts of evil men. She had heard of such +things happening. Still, she could not believe it possible for her. +Roberts could protect her. Then this amiable, well-spoken Kells, he +was no Western rough--he spoke like an educated man; surely he would +not harm her. So her mind revolved round fears, conjectures, +possibilities; she could not find her wits. She could not think how +to meet the situation, even had she divined what the situation was +to be. + +While she sat there in the shade of a cedar the men busied +themselves with camp duties. None of them appeared to pay any +attention to Joan. They talked while they worked, as any other group +of campers might have talked, and jested and laughed. Kells made a +fire, and carried water, then broke cedar boughs for later camp-fire +use; one of the strangers whom they called Bill hobbled the horses; +the other unrolled the pack, spread a tarpaulin, and emptied the +greasy sacks; Roberts made biscuit dough for the oven. + +The sun sank red and a ruddy twilight fell. It soon passed. Darkness +had about set in when Roberts came over to Joan, carrying bread, +coffee, and venison. + +"Here's your supper, Joan," he called, quite loud and cheerily, and +then he whispered: "Mebbe it ain't so bad. They-all seem friendly. +But I'm scared, Joan. If you jest wasn't so dam' handsome, or if +only he hadn't seen you!" + +"Can't we slip off in the dark?" she whispered in return. + +"We might try. But it'd be no use if they mean bad. I can't make up +my mind yet what's comin' off. It's all right for you to pretend +you're bashful. But don't lose your nerve." + +Then he returned to the camp-fire. Joan was hungry. She ate and +drank what had been given her, and that helped her to realize +reality. And although dread abided with her, she grew curious. +Almost she imagined she was fascinated by her predicament. She had +always been an emotional girl of strong will and self-restraint. She +had always longed for she knew not what--perhaps freedom. Certain +places had haunted her. She had felt that something should have +happened to her there. Yet nothing ever had happened. Certain books +had obsessed her, even when a child, and often to her mother's +dismay; for these books had been of wild places and life on the sea, +adventure, and bloodshed. It had always been said of her that she +should have been a boy. + +Night settled down black. A pale, narrow cloud, marked by a train of +stars, extended across the dense blue sky. The wind moaned in the +cedars and roared in the replenished camp-fire. Sparks flew away +into the shadows. And on the puffs of smoke that blew toward her +came the sweet, pungent odor of burning cedar. Coyotes barked off +under the brush, and from away on the ridge drifted the dismal +defiance of a wolf. + +Camp-life was no new thing to Joan. She had crossed the plains in a +wagon-train, that more than once had known the long-drawn yell of +hostile Indians. She had prospected and hunted in the mountains with +her uncle, weeks at a time. But never before this night had the +wildness, the loneliness, been so vivid to her. + +Roberts was on his knees, scouring his oven with wet sand. His big, +shaggy head nodded in the firelight. He seemed pondering and thick +and slow. There was a burden upon him. The man Bill and his +companion lay back against stones and conversed low. Kells stood up +in the light of the blaze. He had a pipe at which he took long pulls +and then sent up clouds of smoke. There was nothing imposing in his +build or striking in his face, at that distance; but it took no +second look to see here was a man remarkably out of the ordinary. +Some kind of power and intensity emanated from him. From time to +time he appeared to glance in Joan's direction; still, she could not +be sure, for his eyes were but shadows. He had cast aside his coat. +He wore a vest open all the way, and a checked soft shirt, with a +black tie hanging untidily. A broad belt swung below his hip and in +the holster was a heavy gun. That was a strange place to carry a +gun, Joan thought. It looked awkward to her. When he walked it might +swing round and bump against his leg. And he certainly would have to +put it some other place when he rode. + +"Say, have you got a blanket for that girl?" asked Kells, removing +his pipe from his lips to address Roberts. + +"I got saddle-blankets," responded Roberts. "You see, we didn't +expect to be caught out." + +"I'll let you have one," said Kells, walking away from the fire. "It +will be cold." He returned with a blanket, which he threw to +Roberts. + +"Much obliged," muttered Roberts. + +"I'll bunk by the fire," went on the other, and with that he sat +down and appeared to become absorbed in thought. + +Roberts brought the borrowed blanket and several saddle-blankets +over to where Joan was, and laying them down he began to kick and +scrape stones and brush aside. + +"Pretty rocky place, this here is," he said. "Reckon you'll sleep +some, though." + +Then he began arranging the blankets into a bed. Presently Joan felt +a tug at her riding-skirt. She looked down. + +"I'll be right by you," he whispered, with his big hand to his +mouth, "an' I ain't a-goin' to sleep none." + +Whereupon he returned to the camp-fire. Presently Joan, not because +she was tired or sleepy, but because she wanted to act naturally, +lay down on the bed and pulled a blanket up over her. There was no +more talking among the men. Once she heard the jingle of spurs and +the rustle of cedar brush. By and by Roberts came back to her, +dragging his saddle, and lay down near her. Joan raised up a little +to see Kells motionless and absorbed by the fire. He had a strained +and tense position. She sank back softly and looked up at the cold +bright stars. What was going to happen to her? Something terrible! +The very night shadows, the silence, the presence of strange men, +all told her. And a shudder that was a thrill ran over and over her. + +She would lie awake. It would be impossible to sleep. And suddenly +into her full mind flashed an idea to slip away in the darkness, +find her horse, and so escape from any possible menace. This plan +occupied her thoughts for a long while. If she had not been used to +Western ways she would have tried just that thing. But she rejected +it. She was not sure that she could slip away, or find her horse, or +elude pursuit, and certainly not sure of her way home. It would be +best to stay with Roberts. + +When that was settled her mind ceased to race. She grew languid and +sleepy. The warmth of the blankets stole over her. She had no idea +of sleeping, yet she found sleep more and more difficult to resist. +Time that must have been hours passed. The fire died down and then +brightened; the shadows darkened and then lightened. Someone now and +then got up to throw on wood. The thump of hobbled hoofs sounded out +in the darkness. The wind was still and the coyotes were gone. She +could no longer open her eyes. They seemed glued shut. And then +gradually all sense of the night and the wild, of the drowsy warmth, +faded. + +When she awoke the air was nipping cold. Her eyes snapped open clear +and bright. The tips of the cedars were ruddy in the sunrise. A +camp-fire crackled. Blue smoke curled upward. Joan sat up with a +rush of memory. Roberts and Kells were bustling round the fire. The +man Bill was carrying water. The other fellow had brought in the +horses and was taking off the hobbles. No one, apparently, paid any +attention to Joan. She got up and smoothed out her tangled hair, +which she always wore in a braid down her back when she rode. She +had slept, then, and in her boots! That was the first time she had +ever done that. When she went down to the brook to bathe her face +and wash her hands, the men still, apparently, took no notice of +her. She began to hope that Roberts had exaggerated their danger. +Her horse was rather skittish and did not care for strange hands. He +broke away from the bunch. Joan went after him, even lost sight of +camp. Presently, after she caught him, she led him back to camp and +tied him up. And then she was so far emboldened as to approach the +fire and to greet the men. + +"Good morning," she said, brightly. + +Kells had his back turned at the moment. He did not move or speak or +give any sign he had heard. The man Bill stared boldly at her, but +without a word. Roberts returned her greeting, and as she glanced +quickly at him, drawn by his voice, he turned away. But she had seen +that his face was dark, haggard, worn. + +Joan's cheer and hope sustained a sudden and violent check. There +was something wrong in this group, and she could not guess what it +was. She seemed to have a queer, dragging weight at her limbs. She +was glad to move over to a stone and sink down upon it. Roberts +brought her breakfast, but he did not speak or look at her. His +hands shook. And this frightened Joan. What was going to happen? +Roberts went back to the camp-fire. Joan had to force herself to +eat. There was one thing of which she was sure--that she would need +all the strength and fortitude she could summon. + +Joan became aware, presently, that Kells was conversing with +Roberts, but too low for her to hear what was said. She saw Roberts +make a gesture of fierce protest. About the other man there was an +air cool, persuading, dominant. He ceased speaking, as if the +incident were closed. Roberts hurried and blundered through his task +with his pack and went for his horse. The animal limped slightly, +but evidently was not in bad shape. Roberts saddled him, tied on the +pack. Then he saddled Joan's horse. That done, he squared around +with the front of a man who had to face something he dreaded. + +"Come on, Joan. We're ready," he called. His voice was loud, but not +natural. + +Joan started to cross to him when Kells strode between them. She +might not have been there, for all the sign this ominous man gave of +her presence. He confronted Roberts in the middle of the camp- +circle, and halted, perhaps a rod distant. + +"Roberts, get on your horse and clear out," he said. + +Roberts dropped his halter and straightened up. It was a bolder +action than any he had heretofore given. Perhaps the mask was off +now; he was wholly sure of what he had only feared; subterfuge and +blindness were in vain; and now he could be a man. Some change +worked in his face--a blanching, a setting. + +"No, I won't go without the girl," he said. + +"But you can't take her!" + +Joan vibrated to a sudden start. So this was what was going to +happen. Her heart almost stood still. Breathless and quivering, she +watched these two men, about whom now all was strangely magnified. + +"Reckon I'll go along with you, then," replied Roberts. + +"Your company's not wanted." + +"Wal, I'll go anyway." + +This was only play at words, Joan thought. She divined in Roberts a +cold and grim acceptance of something he had expected. And the voice +of Kells--what did that convey? Still the man seemed slow, easy, +kind, amiable. + +"Haven't you got any sense, Roberts?" he asked. + +Roberts made no reply to that. + +"Go on home. Say nothing or anything--whatever you like," continued +Kells. "You did me a favor once over in California. I like to +remember favors. Use your head now. Hit the trail." + +"Not without her. I'll fight first," declared Roberts, and his hands +began to twitch and jerk. + +Joan did not miss the wonderful intentness of the pale-gray eyes +that watched Roberts--his face, his glance, his hands. + +"What good will it do to fight?" asked Kells. He laughed coolly. +"That won't help her ... You ought to know what you'll get." + +"Kells--I'll die before I leave that girl in your clutches," flashed +Roberts. "An' I ain't a-goin' to stand here an' argue with you. Let +her come--or--" + +"You don't strike me as a fool," interrupted Kells. His voice was +suave, smooth, persuasive, cool. What strength--what certainty +appeared behind it! "It's not my habit to argue with fools. Take the +chance I offer you. Hit the trail. Life is precious, man! ... You've +no chance here. And what's one girl more or less to you?" + +"Kells, I may be a fool, but I'm a man," passionately rejoined +Roberts. "Why, you're somethin' inhuman! I knew that out in the +gold-fields. But to think you can stand there--an' talk sweet an' +pleasant--with no idee of manhood! ... Let her come now--or--or I'm +a-goin' for my gun!" + +"Roberts, haven't you a wife--children?" + +"Yes, I have," shouted Roberts, huskily. "An' that wife would disown +me if I left Joan Randle to you. An' I've got a grown girl. Mebbe +some day she might need a man to stand between her an' such as you, +Jack Kells!" + +All Roberts' pathos and passion had no effect, unless to bring out +by contrast the singular and ruthless nature of Jack Kells. + +"Will you hit the trail?" + +"No!" thundered Roberts, + +Until then Joan Randle had been fascinated, held by the swift +interchange between her friend and enemy. But now she had a +convulsion of fear. She had seen men fight, but never to the death. +Roberts crouched like a wolf at bay. There was a madness upon him. +He shook like a rippling leaf. Suddenly his shoulder lurched--his +arm swung. + +Joan wheeled away in horror, shutting her eyes, covering her ears, +running blindly. Then upon her muffled hearing burst the boom of a +gun. + + + + +3 + +Joan ran on, stumbling over rocks and brush, with a darkness before +her eyes, the terror in her soul. She was out in the cedars when +someone grasped her from behind. She felt the hands as the coils of +a snake. Then she was ready to faint, but she must not faint. She +struggled away, stood free. It was the man Bill who had caught her. +He said something that was unintelligible. She reached for the snag +of a dead cedar and, leaning there, fought her weakness, that cold +black horror which seemed a physical thing in her mind, her blood, +her muscles. + +When she recovered enough for the thickness to leave her sight she +saw Kells coming, leading her horse and his own. At sight of him a +strange, swift heat shot through her. Then she was confounded with +the thought of Roberts. + +"Ro--Roberts?" she faltered. + +Kells gave her a piercing glance. "Miss Randle, I had to take the +fight out of your friend," he said. + +"You--you--Is he--dead?" + +"I just crippled his gun arm. If I hadn't he would have hurt +somebody. He'll ride back to Hoadley and tell your folks about it. +So they'll know you're safe." + +"Safe!" she whispered. + +"That's what I said, Miss Randle. If you're going to ride out into +the border--if it's possible to be safe out there you'll be so with +me." + +"But I want to go home. Oh, please let me go!" + +"I couldn't think of it." + +"Then--what will you--do with me?" + +Again that gray glance pierced her. His eyes were clear, flawless, +like crystal, without coldness, warmth, expression. "I'll get a +barrel of gold out of you." + +"How?" she asked, wonderingly. + +"I'll hold you for ransom. Sooner or later those prospectors over +there are going to strike gold. Strike it rich! I know that. I've +got to make a living some way." + +Kells was tightening the cinch on her saddle while he spoke. His +voice, his manner, the amiable smile on his intelligent face, they +all appeared to come from sincerity. But for those strange eyes Joan +would have wholly believed him. As it was, a half doubt troubled +her. She remembered the character Roberts had given this man. Still, +she was recovering her nerve. It had been the certainty of disaster +to Roberts that had made her weaken. As he was only slightly wounded +and free to ride home safely, she had not the horror of his death +upon her. Indeed, she was now so immensely uplifted that she faced +the situation unflinchingly. + +"Bill," called Kells to the man standing there with a grin on his +coarse red face, "you go back and help Halloway pack. Then take my +trail." + +Bill nodded, and was walking away when Kells called after him: "And +say, Bill, don't say anything to Roberts. He's easily riled." + +"Haw! Haw! Haw!" laughed Bill. + +His harsh laughter somehow rang jarringly in Joan's ears. But she +was used to violent men who expressed mirth over mirthless jokes. + +"Get up, Miss Randle," said Kells as he mounted. "We've a long ride. +You'll need all your strength. So I advise you to come quietly with +me and not try to get away. It won't be any use trying." + +Joan climbed into her saddle and rode after him. Once she looked +back in hope of seeing Roberts, of waving a hand to him. She saw his +horse standing saddled, and she saw Bill struggling under a pack, +but there was no sign of Roberts. Then more cedars intervened and +the camp site was lost to view. When she glanced ahead her first +thought was to take in the points of Kells's horse. She had been +used to horses all her life. Kells rode a big rangy bay--a horse +that appeared to snort speed and endurance. Her pony could never run +away from that big brute. Still Joan had the temper to make an +attempt to escape, if a favorable way presented. + +The morning was rosy, clear, cool; there was a sweet, dry tang in +the air; white-tailed deer bounded out of the open spaces; and the +gray-domed, glistening mountains, with their bold, black-fringed +slopes, overshadowed the close foot-hills. + +Joan was a victim to swift vagaries of thought and conflicting +emotions. She was riding away with a freebooter, a road-agent, to be +held for ransom. The fact was scarcely credible. She could not shake +the dread of nameless peril. She tried not to recall Roberts's +words, yet they haunted her. If she had not been so handsome, he had +said! Joan knew she possessed good looks, but they had never caused +her any particular concern. That Kells had let that influence him-- +as Roberts had imagined--was more than absurd. Kells had scarcely +looked at her. It was gold such men wanted. She wondered what her +ransom would be, where her uncle would get it, and if there really +was a likelihood of that rich strike. Then she remembered her +mother, who had died when she was a little girl, and a strange, +sweet sadness abided with her. It passed. She saw her uncle--that +great, robust, hearty, splendid old man, with his laugh and his +kindness, and his love for her, and his everlasting unquenchable +belief that soon he would make a rich gold-strike. What a roar and a +stampede he would raise at her loss! The village camp might be +divided on that score, she thought, because the few young women in +that little settlement hated her, and the young men would have more +peace without her. Suddenly her thought shifted to Jim Cleve, the +cause of her present misfortune. She had forgotten Jim. In the +interval somehow he had grown. Sweet to remember how he had fought +for her and kept it secret! After all, she had misjudged him. She +had hated him because she liked him. Maybe she did more! That gave +her a shock. She recalled his kisses and then flamed all over. If +she did not hate him she ought to. He had been so useless; he ran +after her so; he was the laughing-stock of the village; his actions +made her other admirers and friends believe she cared for him, was +playing fast-and-loose with him. Still, there was a difference now. +He had terribly transgressed. He had frightened her with threats of +dire ruin to himself. And because of that she had trailed him, to +fall herself upon a hazardous experience. Where was Jim Cleve now? +Like a flash then occurred to her the singular possibility. Jim had +ridden for the border with the avowed and desperate intention of +finding Kells and Gulden and the bad men of that trackless region. +He would do what he had sworn he would. And here she was, the cause +of it all, a captive of this notorious Kells! She was being led into +that wild border country. Somewhere out there Kells and Jim Cleve +would meet. Jim would find her in Kells's hands. Then there would be +hell, Joan thought. The possibility, the certainty, seemed to strike +deep into her, reviving that dread and terror. Yet she thrilled +again; a ripple that was not all cold coursed through her. Something +had a birth in her then, and the part of it she understood was that +she welcomed the adventure with a throbbing heart, yet looked with +awe and shame and distrust at this new, strange side of her nature. + +And while her mind was thus thronged the morning hours passed +swiftly, the miles of foot-hills were climbed and descended. A green +gap of canon, wild and yellow-walled, yawned before her, opening +into the mountain. + +Kells halted on the grassy bank of a shallow brook. "Get down. We'll +noon here and rest the horses," he said to Joan. "I can't say that +you're anything but game. We've done perhaps twenty-five miles this +morning." + +The mouth of this canon was a wild, green-flowered, beautiful place. +There were willows and alders and aspens along the brook. The green +bench was like a grassy meadow. Joan caught a glimpse of a brown +object, a deer or bear, stealing away through spruce-trees on the +slope. She dismounted, aware now that her legs ached and it was +comfortable to stretch them. Looking backward across the valley +toward the last foot-hill, she saw the other men, with horses and +packs, coming. She had a habit of close observation, and she thought +that either the men with the packs had now one more horse than she +remembered, or else she had not seen the extra one. Her attention +shifted then. She watched Kells unsaddle the horses. He was wiry, +muscular, quick with his hands. The big, blue-cylindered gun swung +in front of him. That gun had a queer kind of attraction for her. +The curved black butt made her think of a sharp grip of hand upon +it. Kells did not hobble the horses. He slapped his bay on the +haunch and drove him down toward the brook. Joan's pony followed. +They drank, cracked the stones, climbed the other bank, and began to +roll in the grass. Then the other men with the packs trotted up. +Joan was glad. She had not thought of it before, but now she felt +she would rather not be alone with Kells. She remarked then that +there was no extra horse in the bunch. It seemed strange, her +thinking that, and she imagined she was not clear-headed. + +"Throw the packs, Bill," said Kells. + +Another fire was kindled and preparations made toward a noonday +meal. Bill and Halloway appeared loquacious, and inclined to steal +glances at Joan when Kells could not notice. Halloway whistled a +Dixie tune. Then Bill took advantage of the absence of Kells, who +went down to the brook, and he began to leer at Joan and make bold +eyes at her. Joan appeared not to notice him, and thereafter +averted; her gaze. The men chuckled. + +"She's the proud hussy! But she ain't foolin' me. I've knowed a heap +of wimmen." Whereupon Halloway guffawed, and between them, in lower +tones, they exchanged mysterious remarks. Kells returned with a +bucket of water. + +"What's got into you men?" he queried. + +Both of them looked around, blusteringily innocent. + +"Reckon it's the same that's ailin' you," replied Bill. He showed +that among wild, unhampered men how little could inflame and change. + +"Boss, it's the onaccustomed company," added Halloway, with a +conciliatory smile. "Bill sort of warms up. He jest can't help it. +An' seein' what a thunderin' crab he always is, why I'm glad an' +welcome." + +Kells vouchsafed no reply to this and, turning away, continued his +tasks. Joan had a close look at his eyes and again she was startled. +They were not like eyes, but just gray spaces, opaque openings, with +nothing visible behind, yet with something terrible there. + +The preparations for the meal went on, somewhat constrainedly on the +part of Bill and Halloway, and presently were ended. Then the men +attended to it with appetites born of the open and of action. Joan +sat apart from them on the bank of the brook, and after she had +appeased her own hunger she rested, leaning back in the shade of an +alderbush. A sailing shadow crossed near her, and, looking up, she +saw an eagle flying above the ramparts of the canon. Then she had a +drowsy spell, but she succumbed to it only to the extent of closing +her eyes. Time dragged on. She would rather have been in the saddle. +These men were leisurely, and Kells was provokingly slow. They had +nothing to do with time but waste it. She tried to combat the desire +for hurry, for action; she could not gain anything by worry. +Nevertheless, resignation would not come to her and her hope began +to flag. Something portended evil--something hung in the balance. + +The snort and tramp of horses roused her, and upon sitting up she +saw the men about to pack and saddle again. Kells had spoken to her +only twice so far that day. She was grateful for his silence, but +could not understand it. He seemed to have a preoccupied air that +somehow did not fit the amiableness of his face. He looked gentle, +good-natured; he was soft-spoken; he gave an impression of kindness. +But Joan began to realize that he was not what he seemed. He had +something on his mind. It was not conscience, nor a burden: it might +be a projection, a plan, an absorbing scheme, a something that +gained food with thought. Joan wondered doubtfully if it were the +ransom of gold he expected to get. + +Presently, when all was about in readiness for a fresh start, she +rose to her feet. Kells's bay was not tractable at the moment. Bill +held out Joan's bridle to her and their hands touched. The contact +was an accident, but it resulted in Bill's grasping back at her +hand. She jerked it away, scarcely comprehending. Then all under the +brown of his face she saw creep a dark, ruddy tide. He reached for +her then--put his hand on her breast. It was an instinctive animal +action. He meant nothing. She divined that he could not help it. She +had lived with rough men long enough to know he had no motive--no +thought at all. But at the profanation of such a touch she shrank +back, uttering a cry. + +At her elbow she heard a quick step and a sharp-drawn breath or +hiss. + +"AW, JACK!" cried Bill. + +Then Kells, in lithe and savage swiftness, came between them. He +swung his gun, hitting Bill full in the face. The man fell, limp and +heavy, and he lay there, with a bloody gash across his brow. Kells +stood over him a moment, slowly lowering the gun. Joan feared he +meant to shoot. + +"Oh, don't--don't!" she cried. "He--he didn't hurt me." + +Kells pushed her back. When he touched her she seemed to feel the +shock of an electric current. His face had not changed, but his eyes +were terrible. On the background of gray were strange, leaping red +flecks. + +"Take your horse," he ordered. "No. Walk across the brook. There's a +trail. Go up the canon. I'll come presently. Don't run and don't +hide. It'll be the worse for you if you do. Hurry!" + +Joan obeyed. She flashed past the open-jawed Halloway, and, running +down to the brook, stepped across from stone to stone. She found the +trail and hurriedly followed it. She did not look back. It never +occurred to her to hide, to try to get away. She only obeyed, +conscious of some force that dominated her. Once she heard loud +voices, then the shrill neigh of a horse. The trail swung under the +left wall of the canon and ran along the noisy brook. She thought +she heard shots and was startled, but she could not be sure. She +stopped to listen. Only the babble of swift water and the sough of +wind in the spruces greeted her ears. She went on, beginning to +collect her thoughts, to conjecture on the significance of Kells's +behavior. + +But had that been the spring of his motive? She doubted it--she +doubted all about him, save that subtle essence of violence, of +ruthless force and intensity, of terrible capacity, which hung round +him. + +A halloo caused her to stop and turn. Two pack-horses were jogging +up the trail. Kells was driving them and leading her pony. Nothing +could be seen of the other men. Kells rapidly overhauled her, and +she had to get out of the trail to let the pack-animals pass. He +threw her bridle to her. + +"Get up," he said. + +She complied. And then she bravely faced him. "Where are--the other +men?" + +"We parted company," he replied, curtly. + +"Why?" she persisted. + +"Well, if you're anxious to know, it was because you were winning +their--regard--too much to suit me." + +"Winning their regard!" Joan exclaimed, blankly. + +Here those gray, piercing eyes went through her, then swiftly +shifted. She was quick to divine from that the inference in his +words--he suspected her of flirting with those ruffians, perhaps to +escape him through them. That had only been his suspicion-- +groundless after his swift glance at her. Perhaps unconsciousness of +his meaning, a simulated innocence, and ignorance might serve her +with this strange man. She resolved to try it, to use all her +woman's intuition and wit and cunning. Here was an educated man who +was a criminal--an outcast. Deep within him might be memories of a +different life. They might be stirred. Joan decided in that swift +instant that, if she could understand him, learn his real intentions +toward her, she could cope with him. + +"Bill and his pard were thinking too much of--of the ransom I'm +after," went on Kells, with a short laugh. "Come on now. Ride close +to me." + +Joan turned into the trail with his laugh ringing in her ears. Did +she only imagine a mockery in it? Was there any reason to believe a +word this man said? She appeared as helpless to see through him as +she was in her predicament. + +They had entered a canon, such as was typical of that mountain +range, and the winding trail which ran beneath the yellow walls was +one unused to travel. Joan could not make out any old tracks, except +those of deer and cougar. The crashing of wild animals into the +chaparral, and the scarcely frightened flight of rabbits and grouse +attested to the wildness of the place. They passed an old tumbledown +log cabin, once used, no doubt, by prospectors and hunters. Here the +trail ended. Yet Kells kept on up the canon. And for all Joan could +tell the walls grew only the higher and the timber heavier and the +space wilder. + +At a turn, when the second pack-horse, that appeared unused to his +task, came fully into Joan's sight, she was struck with his +resemblance to some horse with which she was familiar. It was +scarcely an impression which she might have received from seeing +Kells's horse or Bill's or any one's a few times. Therefore she +watched this animal, studying his gait and behavior. It did not take +long for her to discover that he was not a pack-horse. He resented +that burden. He did not know how to swing it. This made her deeply +thoughtful and she watched closer than ever. All at once there +dawned on her the fact that the resemblance here was to Roberts's +horse. She caught her breath and felt again that cold gnawing of +fear within her. Then she closed her eyes the better to remember +significant points about Roberts's sorrel--a white left front foot, +an old diamond brand, a ragged forelock, and an unusual marking, a +light bar across his face. When Joan had recalled these, she felt so +certain that she would find them on this pack-horse that she was +afraid to open her eyes. She forced herself to look, and it seemed +that in one glance she saw three of them. Still she clung to hope. +Then the horse, picking his way, partially turning toward her, +disclosed the bar across his face. + +Joan recognized it. Roberts was not on his way home. Kells had lied. +Kells had killed him. How plain and fearful the proof! It verified +Roberts's gloomy prophecy. Joan suddenly grew sick and dizzy. She +reeled in her saddle. It was only by dint of the last effort of +strength and self-control that she kept her seat. She fought the +horror as if it were a beast. Hanging over the pommel, with shut +eyes, letting her pony find the way, she sustained this shock of +discovery and did not let it utterly overwhelm her. And as she +conquered the sickening weakness her mind quickened to the changed +aspect of her situation. She understood Kells and the appalling +nature of her peril. She did not know how she understood him now, +but doubt had utterly fled. All was clear, real, grim, present. Like +a child she had been deceived, for no reason she could see. That +talk of ransom was false. Likewise Kells's assertion that he had +parted company with Halloway and Bill because he would not share the +ransom--that, too, was false. The idea of a ransom, in this light, +was now ridiculous. From that first moment Kells had wanted her; he +had tried to persuade Roberts to leave her, and, failing, had killed +him; he had rid himself of the other two men--and now Joan knew she +had heard shots back there. Kells's intention loomed out of all his +dark brooding, and it stood clear now to her, dastardly, worse than +captivity, or torture, or death--the worst fate that could befall a +woman. + +The reality of it now was so astounding. True--as true as those +stories she had deemed impossible! Because she and her people and +friends had appeared secure in their mountain camp and happy in +their work and trustful of good, they had scarcely credited the +rumors of just such things as had happened to her. The stage held up +by roadagents, a lonely prospector murdered and robbed, fights in +the saloons and on the trails, and useless pursuit of hardriding men +out there on the border, elusive as Arabs, swift as Apaches--these +facts had been terrible enough, without the dread of worse. The +truth of her capture, the meaning of it, were raw, shocking spurs to +Joan Randle's intelligence and courage. Since she still lived, which +was strange indeed in the illuminating light of her later insight +into Kells and his kind, she had to meet him with all that was +catlike and subtle and devilish at the command of a woman. She had +to win him, foil him, kill him--or go to her death. She was no girl +to be dragged into the mountain fastness by a desperado and made a +plaything. Her horror and terror had worked its way deep into the +depths of her and uncovered powers never suspected, never before +required in her scheme of life. She had no longer any fear. She +matched herself against this man. She anticipated him. And she felt +like a woman who had lately been a thoughtless girl, who, in turn, +had dreamed of vague old happenings of a past before she was born, +of impossible adventures in her own future. Hate and wrath and +outraged womanhood were not wholly the secret of Joan Randle's +flaming spirit. + + + + +4 + +Joan Randle rode on and on, through the canon, out at its head and +over a pass into another canon, and never did she let it be possible +for Kells to see her eyes until she knew beyond peradventure of a +doubt that they hid the strength and spirit and secret of her soul. + +The time came when traveling was so steep and rough that she must +think first of her horse and her own safety. Kells led up over a +rock-jumbled spur of range, where she had sometimes to follow on +foot. It seemed miles across that wilderness of stone. Foxes and +wolves trotted over open places, watching stealthily. All around +dark mountain peaks stood up. The afternoon was far advanced when +Kells started to descend again, and he rode a zigzag course on +weathered slopes and over brushy benches, down and down into the +canons again. + +A lonely peak was visible, sunset-flushed against the blue, from the +point where Kells finally halted. That ended the longest ride Joan +had ever made in one day. For miles and miles they had climbed and +descended and wound into the mountains. Joan had scarcely any idea +of direction. She was completely turned around and lost. This spot +was the wildest and most beautiful she had ever seen. A canon headed +here. It was narrow, low-walled, and luxuriant with grass and wild +roses and willow and spruce and balsam. There were deer standing +with long ears erect, motionless, curious, tame as cattle. There +were moving streaks through the long grass, showing the course of +smaller animals slipping away. + +Then under a giant balsam, that reached aloft to the rim-wall, Joan +saw a little log cabin, open in front. It had not been built very +long; some of the log ends still showed yellow. It did not resemble +the hunters' and prospectors' cabins she had seen on her trips with +her uncle. + +In a sweeping glance Joan had taken in these features. Kells had +dismounted and approached her. She looked frankly, but not directly, +at him. + +"I'm tired--almost too tired to get off," she said. + +"Fifty miles of rock and brush, up and down! Without a kick!" he +exclaimed, admiringly. "You've got sand, girl!" + +"Where are we?" + +"This is Lost Canon. Only a few men know of it. And they are-- +attached to me. I intend to keep you here." + +"How long?" She felt the intensity of his gaze. + +"Why--as long as--" he replied, slowly, "till I get my ransom." + +"What amount will you ask?" + +"You're worth a hundred thousand in gold right now ... Maybe later I +might let you go for less." + +Joan's keen-wrought perception registered his covert, scarcely +veiled implication. He was studying her. + +"Oh, poor uncle. He'll never, never get so much." + +"Sure he will," replied Kells, bluntly. + +Then he helped her out of the saddle. She was stiff and awkward, and +she let herself slide. Kells handled her gently and like a +gentleman, and for Joan the first agonizing moment of her ordeal was +past. Her intuition had guided her correctly. Kells might have been +and probably was the most depraved of outcast men; but the presence +of a girl like her, however it affected him, must also have brought +up associations of a time when by family and breeding and habit he +had been infinitely different. His action here, just like the +ruffian Bill's, was instinctive, beyond his control. Just this +slight thing, this frail link that joined Kells to his past and +better life, immeasurably inspirited Joan and outlined the difficult +game she had to play. + +"You're a very gallant robber," she said. + +He appeared not to hear that or to note it; he was eying her up and +down; and he moved closer, perhaps to estimate her height compared +to his own. + +"I didn't know you were so tall. You're above my shoulder." + +"Yes, I'm very lanky." + +"Lanky! Why you're not that. You've a splendid figure--tall, supple, +strong; you're like a Nez Perce girl I knew once. ... You're a +beautiful thing. Didn't you know that?" + +"Not particularly. My friends don't dare flatter me. I suppose I'll +have to stand it from you. But I didn't expect compliments from Jack +Kells of the Border Legion." + +"Border Legion? Where'd you hear that name?" + +"I didn't hear it. I made it up--thought of it myself." + +"Well, you've invented something I'll use. ... And what's your +name--your first name? I heard Roberts use it." + +Joan felt a cold contraction of all her internal being, but +outwardly she never so much as nicked an eyelash. "My name's Joan." + +"Joan!" He placed heavy, compelling hands on her shoulders and +turned her squarely toward him. + +Again she felt his gaze, strangely, like the reflection of sunlight +from ice. She had to look at him. This was her supreme test. For +hours she had prepared for it, steeled herself, wrought upon all +that was sensitive in her; and now she prayed, and swiftly looked up +into his eyes. They were windows of a gray hell. And she gazed into +that naked abyss, at that dark, uncovered soul, with only the timid +anxiety and fear and the unconsciousness of an innocent, ignorant +girl. + +"Joan! You know why I brought you here?" + +"Yes, of course; you told me," she replied, steadily. "You want to +ransom me for gold. ... And I'm afraid you'll have to take me home +without getting any." + +"You know what I mean to do to you," he went on, thickly. + +"Do to me?" she echoed, and she never quivered a muscle. "You--you +didn't say. ... I haven't thought. ... But you won't hurt me, will +you? It's not my fault if there's no gold to ransom me." + +He shook her. His face changed, grew darker. "You KNOW what I mean." + +"I don't." With some show of spirit she essayed to slip out of his +grasp. He held her the tighter. + +"How old are you?" + +It was only in her height and development that Joan looked anywhere +near her age. Often she had been taken for a very young girl. + +"I'm seventeen," she replied. This was not the truth. It was a lie +that did not falter on lips which had scorned falsehood. + +"Seventeen!" he ejaculated in amaze. "Honestly, now?" + +She lifted her chin scornfully and remained silent. + +"Well, I thought you were a woman. I took you to be twenty-five--at +least twenty-two. Seventeen, with that shape! You're only a girl--a +kid. You don't know anything." + +Then he released her, almost with violence, as if angered at her or +himself, and he turned away to the horses. Joan walked toward the +little cabin. The strain of that encounter left her weak, but once +from under his eyes, certain that she had carried her point, she +quickly regained her poise. There might be, probably would be, +infinitely more trying ordeals for her to meet than this one had +been; she realized, however, that never again would she be so near +betrayal of terror and knowledge and self. + +The scene of her isolation had a curious fascination for her. +Something--and she shuddered--was to happen to her here in this +lonely, silent gorge. There were some flat stones made into a rude +seat under the balsam-tree, and a swift, yard-wide stream of clear +water ran by. Observing something white against the tree, Joan went +closer. A card, the ace of hearts, had been pinned to the bark by a +small cluster of bullet-holes, every one of which touched the red +heart, and one of them had obliterated it. Below the circle of +bulletholes, scrawled in rude letters with a lead-pencil, was the +name "Gulden." How little, a few nights back, when Jim Cleve had +menaced Joan with the names of Kells and Gulden, had she imagined +they were actual men she was to meet and fear! And here she was the +prisoner of one of them. She would ask Kells who and what this +Gulden was. The log cabin was merely a shed, without fireplace or +window, and the floor was a covering of balsam boughs, long dried +out and withered. A dim trail led away from it down the canon. If +Joan was any judge of trails, this one had not seen the imprint of a +horse track for many months. Kells had indeed brought her to a +hiding place, one of those, perhaps, that camp gossip said was +inaccessible to any save a border hawk. Joan knew that only an +Indian could follow the tortuous and rocky trail by which Kells had +brought her in. She would never be tracked there by her own people. + +The long ride had left her hot, dusty, scratched, with tangled hair +and torn habit. She went over to her saddle, which Kells had removed +from her pony, and, opening the saddlebag, she took inventory of her +possessions. They were few enough, but now, in view of an unexpected +and enforced sojourn in the wilds, beyond all calculation of value. +And they included towel, soap, toothbrush, mirror and comb and +brush, a red scarf, and gloves. It occurred to her how seldom she +carried that bag on her saddle, and, thinking back, referred the +fact to accident, and then with honest amusement owned that the +motive might have been also a little vanity. Taking the bag, she +went to a flat stone by the brook and, rolling up her sleeves, +proceeded to improve her appearance. With deft fingers she rebraided +her hair and arranged it as she had worn it when only sixteen. Then, +resolutely, she got up and crossed over to where Kells was +unpacking. + +"I'll help you get supper," she said. + +He was on his knees in the midst of a jumble of camp duffle that had +been hastily thrown together. He looked up at her--from her shapely, +strong, brown arms to the face she had rubbed rosy. + +"Say, but you're a pretty girl!" + +He said it enthusiastically, in unstinted admiration, without the +slightest subtlety or suggestion; and if he had been the devil +himself it would have been no less a compliment, given spontaneously +to youth and beauty. + +"I'm glad if it's so, but please don't tell me," she rejoined, +simply. + +Then with swift and business-like movements she set to helping him +with the mess the inexperienced pack-horse had made of that +particular pack. And when that was straightened out she began with +the biscuit dough while he lighted a fire. It appeared to be her +skill, rather than her willingness, that he yielded to. He said very +little, but he looked at her often. And he had little periods of +abstraction. The situation was novel, strange to him. Sometimes Joan +read his mind and sometimes he was an enigma. But she divined when +he was thinking what a picture she looked there, on her knees before +the bread-pan, with flour on her arms; of the difference a girl +brought into any place; of how strange it seemed that this girl, +instead of lying a limp and disheveled rag under a tree, weeping and +praying for home, made the best of a bad situation and unproved it +wonderfully by being a thoroughbred. + +Presently they sat down, cross-legged, one on each side of the +tarpaulin, and began the meal. That was the strangest supper Joan +ever sat down to; it was like a dream where there was danger that +tortured her; but she knew she was dreaming and would soon wake up. +Kells was almost imperceptibly changing. The amiability of his face +seemed to have stiffened. The only time he addressed her was when he +offered to help her to more meat or bread or coffee. After the meal +was finished he would not let her wash the pans and pots, and +attended to that himself. + +Joan went to the seat by the tree, near the camp-fire. A purple +twilight was shadowing the canon. Far above, on the bold peak the +last warmth of the afterglow was fading. There was no wind, no +sound, no movement. Joan wondered where Jim Cleve was then. They had +often sat in the twilight. She felt an unreasonable resentment +toward him, knowing she was to blame, but blaming him for her +plight. Then suddenly she thought of her uncle, of home, of her +kindly old aunt who always worried so about her. Indeed, there was +cause to worry. She felt sorrier for them than for herself. And that +broke her spirit momentarily. Forlorn, and with a wave of sudden +sorrow and dread and hopelessness, she dropped her head upon her +knees and covered her face. Tears were a relief. She forgot Kells +and the part she must play. But she remembered swiftly--at the rude +touch of his hand. + +"Here! Are you crying?" he asked, roughly. + +"Do you think I'm laughing?" Joan retorted. Her wet eyes, as she +raised them, were proof enough. + +"Stop it." + +"I can't help--but cry--a little. I was th--thinking of home--of +those who've been father and mother to me--since I was a baby. I +wasn't crying--for myself. But they--they'll be so miserable. They +loved me so." + +"It won't help matters to cry." + +Joan stood up then, no longer sincere and forgetful, but the girl +with her deep and cunning game. She leaned close to him in the +twilight. + +"Did you ever love any one? Did you ever have a sister--a girl like +me?" + +Kells stalked away into the gloom. + +Joan was left alone. She did not know whether to interpret his +abstraction, his temper, and his action as favorable or not. Still +she hoped and prayed they meant that he had some good in him. If she +could only hide her terror, her abhorrence, her knowledge of him and +his motive! She built up a bright camp-fire. There was an abundance +of wood. She dreaded the darkness and the night. Besides, the air +was growing chilly. So, arranging her saddle and blankets near the +fire, she composed herself in a comfortable seat to await Kells's +return and developments. It struck her forcibly that she had lost +some of her fear of Kells and she did not know why. She ought to +fear him more every hour--every minute. Presently she heard his step +brushing the grass and then he emerged out of the gloom. He had a +load of fire-wood on his shoulder. + +"Did you get over your grief?" he asked, glancing down upon her. + +"Yes," she replied. + +Kells stooped for a red ember, with which he lighted his pipe, and +then he seated himself a little back from the fire. The blaze threw +a bright glare over him, and in it he looked neither formidable nor +vicious nor ruthless. He asked her where she was born, and upon +receiving an answer he followed that up with another question. And +he kept this up until Joan divined that he was not so much +interested in what he apparently wished to learn as he was in her +presence, her voice, her personality. She sensed in him loneliness, +hunger for the sound of a voice. She had heard her uncle speak of +the loneliness of lonely camp-fires and how all men working or +hiding or lost in the wilderness would see sweet faces in the embers +and be haunted by soft voices. After all, Kells was human. And she +talked as never before in her life, brightly, willingly, eloquently, +telling the facts of her eventful youth and girlhood--the sorrow and +the joy and some of the dreams--up to the time she had come to Camp +Hoadley. + +"Did you leave any sweethearts over there at Hoadley?" he asked, +after a silence. + +"Yes." + +"How many?" + +"A whole campful," she replied, with a laugh, "but admirers is a +better name for them." + +"Then there's no one fellow?" + +"Hardly--yet." + +"How would you like being kept here in this lonesome place for-- +well, say for ever?" + +"I wouldn't like that," replied Joan. "I'd like this--camping out +like this now--if my folks only knew I am alive and well and safe. I +love lonely, dreamy places. I've dreamed of being in just such a one +as this. It seems so far away here--so shut in by the walls and the +blackness. So silent and sweet! I love the stars. They speak to me. +And the wind in the spruces. Hear it. ... Very low, mournful! That +whispers to me--to-morrow I'd like it here if I had no worry. I've +never grown up yet. I explore and climb trees and hunt for little +birds and rabbits--young things just born, all fuzzy and sweet, +frightened, piping or squealing for their mothers. But I won't touch +one for worlds. I simply can't hurt anything. I can't spur my horse +or beat him. Oh, I HATE pain!" + +"You're a strange girl to live out here on this border," he said. + +"I'm no different from other girls. You don't know girls." + +"I knew one pretty well. She put a rope round my neck," he replied, +grimly. + +"A rope!" + +"Yes, I mean a halter, a hangman's noose. But I balked her!" + +"Oh! ... A good girl?" + +"Bad! Bad to the core of her black heart--bad as I am!" he +exclaimed, with fierce, low passion. + +Joan trembled. The man, in an instant, seemed transformed, somber as +death. She could not look at him, but she must keep on talking. + +"Bad? You don't seem bad to me--only violent, perhaps, or wild. ... +Tell me about yourself." + +She had stirred him. His neglected pipe fell from his hand. In the +gloom of the camp-fire he must have seen faces or ghosts of his +past. + +"Why not?" he queried, strangely. "Why not do what's been impossible +for years--open my lips? It'll not matter--to a girl who can never +tell! ... Have I forgotten? God!--I have not! Listen, so that you'll +KNOW I'm bad. My name's not Kells. I was born in the East, and went +to school there till I ran away. I was young, ambitious, wild. I +stole. I ran away--came West in 'fifty-one to the gold-fields in +California. There I became a prospector, miner, gambler, robber--and +road-agent. I had evil in me, as all men have, and those wild years +brought it out. I had no chance. Evil and gold and blood--they are +one and the same thing. I committed every crime till no place, bad +as it might be, was safe for me. Driven and hunted and shot and +starved--almost hanged! ... And now I'm--Kells! of that outcast crew +you named 'the Border Legion!' Every black crime but one--the +blackest--and that haunting me, itching my hands to-night." + +"Oh, you speak so--so dreadfully!" cried Joan. "What can I say? I'm +sorry for you. I don't believe it all. What--what black crime haunts +you? Oh! what could be possible tonight--here in this lonely canon-- +with only me?" + +Dark and terrible the man arose. + +"Girl," he said, hoarsely. "To-night--to-night--I'll. ... What have +you done to me? One more day--and I'll be mad to do right by you-- +instead of WRONG. ... Do you understand that?" + +Joan leaned forward in the camp-fire light with outstretched hands +and quivering lips, as overcome by his halting confession of one +last remnant of honor as she was by the dark hint of his passion. + +"No--no--I don't understand--nor believe!" she cried. "But you +frighten me--so! I am all--all alone with you here. You said I'd be +safe. Don't--don't--" + +Her voice broke then and she sank back exhausted in her seat. +Probably Kells had heard only the first words of her appeal, for he +took to striding back and forth in the circle of the camp-fire +light. The scabbard with the big gun swung against his leg. It grew +to be a dark and monstrous thing in Joan's sight. A marvelous +intuition born of that hour warned her of Kells's subjection to the +beast in him, even while, with all the manhood left to him, he still +battled against it. Her girlish sweetness and innocence had availed +nothing, except mock him with the ghost of dead memories. He could +not be won or foiled. She must get her hands on that gun--kill him-- +or--! The alternative was death for herself. And she leaned there, +slowly gathering all the unconquerable and unquenchable forces of a +woman's nature, waiting, to make one desperate, supreme, and final +effort. + + + + +5 + +Kells strode there, a black, silent shadow, plodding with bent head, +as if all about and above him were demons and furies. + +Joan's perceptions of him, of the night, of the inanimate and +imponderable black walls, and of herself, were exquisitely and +abnormally keen. She saw him there, bowed under his burden, gloomy +and wroth and sick with himself because the man in him despised the +coward. Men of his stamp were seldom or never cowards. Their lives +did not breed cowardice or baseness. Joan knew the burning in her +breast--that thing which inflamed and swept through her like a wind +of fire--was hate. Yet her heart held a grain of pity for him. She +measured his forbearance, his struggle, against the monstrous +cruelty and passion engendered by a wild life among wild men at a +wild time. And, considering his opportunities of the long hours and +lonely miles, she was grateful, and did not in the least +underestimate what it cost him, how different from Bill or Halloway +he had been. But all this was nothing, and her thinking of it +useless, unless he conquered himself. She only waited, holding on to +that steel-like control of her nerves, motionless and silent. + +She leaned back against her saddle, a blanket covering her, with +wide-open eyes, and despite the presence of that stalking figure and +the fact of her mind being locked round one terrible and inevitable +thought, she saw the changing beautiful glow of the fire-logs and +the cold, pitiless stars and the mustering shadows under the walls. +She heard, too, the low rising sigh of the wind in the balsam and +the silvery tinkle of the brook, and sounds only imagined or +nameless. Yet a stern and insupportable silence weighed her down. +This dark canon seemed at the ends of the earth. She felt +encompassed by illimitable and stupendous upflung mountains, +insulated in a vast, dark, silent tomb. + +Kells suddenly came to her, treading noiselessly, and he leaned over +her. His visage was a dark blur, but the posture of him was that of +a wolf about to spring. Lower he leaned--slowly--and yet lower. Joan +saw the heavy gun swing away from his leg; she saw it black and +clear against the blaze; a cold, blue light glinted from its handle. +And then Kells was near enough for her to see his face and his eyes +that were but shadows of flames. She gazed up at him steadily, open- +eyed, with no fear or shrinking. His breathing was quick and loud. +He looked down at her for an endless moment, then, straightening his +bent form, he resumed his walk to and fro. + +After that for Joan time might have consisted of moments or hours, +each of which was marked by Kells looming over her. He appeared to +approach her from all sides; he round her wide-eyed, sleepless; his +shadowy glance gloated over her lithe, slender shape; and then he +strode away into the gloom. Sometimes she could no longer hear his +steps and then she was quiveringly alert, listening, fearful that he +might creep upon her like a panther. At times he kept the camp-fire +blazing brightly; at others he let it die down. And these dark +intervals were frightful for her. The night seemed treacherous, in +league with her foe. It was endless. She prayed for dawn--yet with a +blank hopelessness for what the day might bring. Could she hold out +through more interminable hours? Would she not break from sheer +strain? There were moments when she wavered and shook like a leaf in +the wind, when the beating of her heart was audible, when a child +could have seen her distress. There were other moments when all was +ugly, unreal, impossible like things in a nightmare. But when Kells +was near or approached to look at her, like a cat returned to watch +a captive mouse, she was again strong, waiting, with ever a strange +and cold sense of the nearness of that swinging gun. Late in the +night she missed him, for how long she had no idea. She had less +trust in his absence than his presence. The nearer he came to her +the stronger she grew and the clearer of purpose. At last the black +void of canon lost its blackness and turned to gray. Dawn was at +hand. The horrible endless night, in which she had aged from girl to +woman, had passed. Joan had never closed her eyes a single instant. + +When day broke she got up. The long hours in which she had rested +motionlessly had left her muscles cramped and dead. She began to +walk off the feeling. Kells had just stirred from his blanket under +the balsam-tree. His face was dark, haggard, lined. She saw him go +down to the brook and plunge his hands into the water and bathe his +face with a kind of fury. Then he went up to the smoldering fire. +There was a gloom, a somberness, a hardness about him that had not +been noticeable the day before. + +Joan found the water cold as ice, soothing to the burn beneath her +skin. She walked away then, aware that Kells did not appear to care, +and went up to where the brook brawled from under the cliff. This +was a hundred paces from camp, though in plain sight. Joan looked +round for her horse, but he was not to be seen. She decided to slip +away the first opportunity that offered, and on foot or horseback, +any way, to get out of Kells's clutches if she had to wander, lost +in the mountains, till she starved. Possibly the day might be +endurable, but another night would drive her crazy. She sat on a +ledge, planning and brooding, till she was startled by a call from +Kells. Then slowly she retraced her steps. + +"Don't you want to eat?" he asked. + +"I'm not hungry," she replied. + +"Well, eat anyhow--if it chokes you," he ordered. + +Joan seated herself while he placed food and drink before her. She +did not look at him and did not feel his gaze upon her. Far asunder +as they had been yesterday the distance between them to-day was +incalculably greater. She ate as much as she could swallow and +pushed the rest away. Leaving the camp-fire, she began walking +again, here and there, aimlessly, scarcely seeing what she looked +at. There was a shadow over her, an impending portent of +catastrophe, a moment standing dark and sharp out of the age-long +hour. She leaned against the balsam and then she rested in the stone +seat, and then she had to walk again. It might have been long, that +time; she never knew how long or short. There came a strange +flagging, sinking of her spirit, accompanied by vibrating, restless, +uncontrollable muscular activity. Her nerves were on the verge of +collapse. + +It was then that a call from Kells, clear and ringing, thrilled all +the weakness from her in a flash, and left her limp and cold. She +saw him coming. His face looked amiable again, bright against what +seemed a vague and veiled background. Like a mountaineer he strode. +And she looked into his strange, gray glance to see unmasked the +ruthless power, the leaping devil, the ungovernable passion she had +sensed in him. + +He grasped her arm and with a single pull swung her to him. "YOU'VE +got to pay that ransom!" + +He handled her as if he thought she resisted, but she was +unresisting. She hung her head to hide her eyes. Then he placed an +arm round her shoulders and half led, half dragged her toward the +cabin. + + + +Joan saw with startling distinctness the bits of balsam and pine at +her feet and pale pink daisies in the grass, and then the dry +withered boughs. She was in the cabin. + +"Girl! ... I'm hungry--for you!" he breathed, hoarsely. And turning +her toward him, he embraced her, as if his nature was savage and he +had to use a savage force. + +If Joan struggled at all, it was only slightly, when she writhed and +slipped, like a snake, to get her arm under his as it clasped her +neck. Then she let herself go. He crushed her to him. He bent her +backward--tilted her face with hard and eager hand. Like a madman, +with hot working lips, he kissed her. She felt blinded--scorched. +But her purpose was as swift and sure and wonderful as his passion +was wild. The first reach of her groping hand found his gun-belt. +Swift as light her hand slipped down. Her fingers touched the cold +gun--grasped with thrill on thrill--slipped farther down, strong and +sure to raise the hammer. Then with a leaping, strung intensity that +matched his own she drew the gun. She raised it while her eyes were +shut. She lay passive under his kisses--the devouring kisses of one +whose manhood had been denied the sweetness, the glory, the fire, +the life of woman's lips. It was a moment in which she met his +primitive fury of possession with a woman's primitive fury of +profanation. She pressed the gun against his side and pulled the +trigger. + +A thundering, muffled, hollow boom! The odor of burned powder stung +her nostrils. Kells's hold on her tightened convulsively, loosened +with strange, lessening power. She swayed back free of him, still +with tight-shut eyes. A horrible cry escaped him--a cry of mortal +agony. It wrenched her. And she looked to see him staggering amazed, +stricken, at bay, like a wolf caught in cruel steel jaws. His hands +came away from both sides, dripping with blood. They shook till the +crimson drops spattered on the wall, on the boughs. Then he seemed +to realize and he clutched at her with these bloody hands. + +"God Almighty!" he panted. "You shot me! ... You--you girl! ... You +she-cat... You knew--all the time... You she-cat! ... Give me--that +gun!" + +"Kells, get back! I'll kill you!" she cried. The big gun, +outstretched between them, began to waver. + +Kells did not see the gun. In his madness he tried to move, to reach +her, but he could not; he was sinking. His legs sagged under him, +let him down to his knees, and but for the wall he would have +fallen. Then a change transformed him. The black, turgid, convulsed +face grew white and ghastly, with beads of clammy sweat and lines of +torture. His strange eyes showed swiftly passing thought--wonder, +fear, scorn--even admiration. + +"Joan, you've done--for me!" he gasped. "You've broken my back! ... +It'll kill me! Oh the pain--the pain! And I can't stand pain! You-- +you girl! You innocent seventeen-year-old girl! You that couldn't +hurt any creature! You so tender--so gentle! ... Bah! you fooled me. +The cunning of a woman! I ought--to know. A good woman's--more +terrible than a--bad woman. ... But I deserved this. Once I used--to +be. ... Only, the torture! ... Why didn't you--kill me outright? ... +Joan--Randle--watch me--die! Since I had--to die--by rope or bullet-- +I'm glad you--you--did for me. ... Man or beast--I believe--I loved +you!" + +Joan dropped the gun and sank beside him, helpless, horror-stricken, +wringing her hands. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, that he +drove her to it, that he must let her pray for him. But she could +not speak. Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth and she seemed +strangling. + +Another change, slower and more subtle, passed over Kells. He did +not see Joan. He forgot her. The white shaded out of his face, +leaving a gray like that of his somber eyes. Spirit, sense, life, +were fading from him. The quivering of a racked body ceased. And all +that seemed left was a lonely soul groping on the verge of the dim +borderland between life and death. Presently his shoulders slipped +along the wall and he fell, to lie limp and motionless before Joan. +Then she fainted. + + + + +6 + +When Joan returned to consciousness she was lying half outside the +opening of the cabin and above her was a drift of blue gun-smoke, +slowly floating upward. Almost as swiftly as perception of that +smoke came a shuddering memory. She lay still, listening. She did +not hear a sound except the tinkle and babble and gentle rush of the +brook. Kells was dead, then. And overmastering the horror of her act +was a relief, a freedom, a lifting of her soul out of the dark +dread, a something that whispered justification of the fatal deed. + +She got up and, avoiding to look within the cabin, walked away. The +sun was almost at the zenith. Where had the morning hours gone? + +"I must get away," she said, suddenly. The thought quickened her. +Down the canon the horses were grazing. She hurried along the trail, +trying to decide whether to follow this dim old trail or endeavor to +get out the way she had been brought in. She decided upon the +latter. If she traveled slowly, and watched for familiar landmarks, +things she had seen once, and hunted carefully for the tracks, she +believed she might be successful. She had the courage to try. Then +she caught her pony and led him back to camp. + +"What shall I take?" she pondered. She decided upon very little--a +blanket, a sack of bread and meat, and a canteen of water. She might +need a weapon, also. There was only one, the gun with which she had +killed Kells. It seemed utterly impossible to touch that hateful +thing. But now that she had liberated herself, and at such cost, she +must not yield to sentiment. Resolutely she started for the cabin, +but when she reached it her steps were dragging. The long, dull-blue +gun lay where she had dropped it. And out of the tail of averted +eyes she saw a huddled shape along the wall. It was a sickening +moment when she reached a shaking hand for the gun. And at that +instant a low moan transfixed her. + +She seemed frozen rigid. Was the place already haunted? Her heart +swelled in her throat and a dimness came before her eyes. But +another moan brought a swift realization--Kells was alive. And the +cold, clamping sickness, the strangle in her throat, all the +feelings of terror, changed and were lost in a flood of instinctive +joy. He was not dead. She had not killed him. She did not have blood +on her hands. She was not a murderer. + +She whirled to look at him. There he lay, ghastly as a corpse. And +all her woman's gladness fled. But there was compassion left to her, +and, forgetting all else, she knelt beside him. He was as cold as +stone. She felt no stir, no beat of pulse in temple or wrist. Then +she placed her ear against his breast. His heart beat weakly. + +"He's alive," she whispered. "But--he's dying. ... What shall I do?" + +Many thoughts flashed across her mind. She could not help him now; +he would be dead soon; she did not need to wait there beside him; +there was a risk of some of his comrades riding into that +rendezvous. Suppose his back was not broken after all! Suppose she +stopped the flow of blood, tended him, nursed him, saved his life? +For if there were one chance of his living, which she doubted, it +must be through her. Would he not be the same savage the hour he was +well and strong again? What difference could she make in such a +nature? The man was evil. He could not conquer evil. She had been +witness to that. He had driven Roberts to draw and had killed him. +No doubt he had deliberately and coldly murdered the two ruffians, +Bill and Halloway, just so he could be free of their glances at her +and be alone with her. He deserved to die there like a dog. + +What Joan Randle did was surely a woman's choice. Carefully she +rolled Kells over. The back of his vest and shirt was wet with +blood. She got up to find a knife, towel, and water. As she returned +to the cabin he moaned again. + +Joan had dressed many a wound. She was not afraid of blood. The +difference was that she had shed it. She felt sick, but her hands +were firm as she cut open the vest and shirt, rolled them aside, and +bathed his back. The big bullet had made a gaping wound, having +apparently gone through the small of his back. The blood still +flowed. She could not tell whether or not Kell's spine was broken, +but she believed that the bullet had gone between bone and muscle, +or had glanced. There was a blue welt just over his spine, in line +with the course of the wound. She tore her scarf into strips and +used it for compresses and bandages. Then she laid him back upon a +saddle-blanket. She had done all that was possible for the present, +and it gave her a strange sense of comfort. She even prayed for his +life, and, if that must go, for his soul. Then she got up. He was +unconscious, white, death-like. It seemed that his torture, his near +approach to death, had robbed his face of ferocity, of ruthlessness, +and of that strange amiable expression. But then, his eyes, those +furnace-windows, were closed. + +Joan waited for the end to come. The afternoon passed and she did +not leave the cabin. It was possible that he might come to and want +water. She had once administered to a miner who had been fatally +crushed in an avalanche; and never could forget his husky call for +water and the gratitude in his eyes. + +Sunset, twilight, and night fell upon the canon. And she began to +feel solitude as something tangible. Bringing saddle and blankets +into the cabin, she made a bed just inside, and, facing the opening +and the stars, she lay down to rest, if not to sleep. The darkness +did not keep her from seeing the prostrate figure of Kells. He lay +there as silent as if he were already dead. She was exhausted, weary +for sleep, and unstrung. In the night her courage fled and she was +frightened at shadows. The murmuring of insects seemed augmented +into a roar; the mourn of wolf and scream of cougar made her start; +the rising wind moaned like a lost spirit. Dark fancies beset her. +Troop on troop of specters moved out of the black night, assembling +there, waiting for Kells to join them. She thought she was riding +homeward over the back trail, sure of her way, remembering every rod +of that rough travel, until she got out of the mountains, only to be +turned back by dead men. Then fancy and dream, and all the haunted +gloom of canon and cabin, seemed slowly to merge into one immense +blackness. + +The sun, rimming the east wall, shining into Joan's face, awakened +her. She had slept hours. She felt rested, stronger. Like the night, +something dark had passed away from her. It did not seem strange to +her that she should feel that Kells still lived. She knew it. And +examination proved her right. In him there had been no change except +that he had ceased to bleed. There was just a flickering of life in +him, manifest only in his slow, faint heart-beats. + +Joan spent most of that day in sitting beside Kells. The whole day +seemed only an hour. Sometimes she would look down the canon trail, +half expecting to see horsemen riding up. If any of Kells's comrades +happened to come, what could she tell them? They would be as bad as +he, without that one trait which had kept him human for a day. Joan +pondered upon this. It would never do to let them suspect she had +shot Kells. So, carefully cleaning the gun, she reloaded it. If any +men came, she would tell them that Bill had done the shooting. + +Kells lingered. Joan began to feel that he would live, though +everything indicated the contrary. Her intelligence told her he +would die, and her feeling said he would not. At times she lifted +his head and got water into his mouth with a spoon. When she did +this he would moan. That night, during the hours she lay awake, she +gathered courage out of the very solitude and loneliness. She had +nothing to fear, unless someone came to the canon. The next day in +no wise differed from the preceding. And then there came the third +day, with no change in Kells till near evening, when she thought he +was returning to consciousness. But she must have been mistaken. For +hours she watched patiently. He might return to consciousness just +before the end, and want to speak, to send a message, to ask a +prayer, to feel a human hand at the last. + +That night the crescent moon hung over the canon. In the faint light +Joan could see the blanched face of Kells, strange and sad, no +longer seeming evil. The time came when his lips stirred. He tried +to talk. She moistened his lips and gave him a drink. He murmured +incoherently, sank again into a stupor, to rouse once more and +babble tike a madman. Then he lay quietly for long--so long that +sleep was claiming Joan. Suddenly he startled her by calling very +faintly but distinctly: "Water! Water!" + +Joan bent over him, lifting his head, helping him to drink. She +could see his eyes, like dark holes in something white. + +"Is--that--you--mother?" he whispered. + +"Yes," replied Joan. + +He sank immediately into another stupor or sleep, from which he did +not rouse. That whisper of his--mother--touched Joan. Bad men had +mothers just the same as any other kind of men. Even this Kells had +a mother. He was still a young man. He had been youth, boy, child, +baby. Some mother had loved him, cradled him, kissed his rosy baby +hands, watched him grow with pride and glory, built castles in her +dreams of his manhood, and perhaps prayed for him still, trusting he +was strong and honored among men. And here he lay, a shattered +wreck, dying for a wicked act, the last of many crimes. It was a +tragedy. It made Joan think of the hard lot of mothers, and then of +this unsettled Western wild, where men flocked in packs like wolves, +and spilled blood like water, and held life nothing. + +Joan sought her rest and soon slept. In the morning she did not at +once go to Kells. Somehow she dreaded finding him conscious, almost +as much as she dreaded the thought of finding him dead. When she did +bend over him he was awake, and at sight of her he showed a faint +amaze. + +"Joan!" he whispered. + +"Yes," she replied. + +"Are you--with me still?" + +"Of course, I couldn't leave you." + +The pale eyes shadowed strangely, darkly. "I'm alive yet. And you +stayed! ... Was it yesterday--you threw my gun--on me?" + +"No. Four days ago." + +"Four! Is my back broken?" + +"I don't know. I don't think so. It's a terrible wound. I--I did all +I could." + +"You tried to kill me--then tried to save me?" + +She was silent to that. + +"You're good--and you've been noble," he said. "But I wish--you'd +only been bad. Then I'd curse you--and strangle you--presently." + +"Perhaps you had best be quiet," replied Joan. + +"No. I've been shot before. I'll get over this--if my back's not +broken. How can we tell?" + +"I've no idea." + +"Lift me up." + +"But you might open your wound," protested Joan. + +"Lift me up!" The force of the man spoke even in his low whisper. + +"But why--why?" asked Joan. + +"I want to see--if I can sit up. If I can't--give me my gun." + +"I won't let you have it," replied Joan. Then she slipped her arms +under his and, carefully raising him to a sitting posture, released +her hold. + +"I'm--a--rank coward--about pain," he gasped, with thick drops +standing out on his white face. "I can't--stand it." + +But tortured or not, he sat up alone, and even had the will to bend +his back. Then with a groan he fainted and fell into Joan's arms. +She laid him down and worked over him for some time before she could +bring him to. Then he was wan, suffering, speechless. But she +believed he would live and told him so. He received that with a +strange smile. Later, when she came to him with broth, he drank it +gratefully. + +"I'll beat this out," he said, weakly. "I'll recover. My back's not +broken. I'll get well. Now you bring water and food in here--then +go." + +"Go?" she echoed. + +"Yes. Don't go down the canon. You'd be worse off. ... Take the back +trail. You've got a chance to get out. ... Go!" + +"Leave you here? So weak you can't lift a cup! I won't." + +"I'd rather you did." + +"Why?" + +"Because in a few days I'll begin to mend. Then I'll grow like-- +myself. ... I think--I'm afraid I loved you. ... It could only be +hell for you. Go now, before it's too late! ... If you stay--till I'm +well--I'll never let you go!" + +"Kells, I believe it would be cowardly for me to leave you here +alone," she replied, earnestly. "You can't help yourself. You'd +die." + +"All the better. But I won't die. I'm hard to kill. Go, I tell you." + +She shook her head. "This is bad for you--arguing. You're excited. +Please be quiet." + +"Joan Randle, if you stay--I'll halter you--keep you naked in a +cave--curse you--beat you--murder you! Oh, it's in me! ... Go, I tell +you!" + +"You're out of your head. Once for all--no!" she replied, firmly. + +"You--you--" His voice failed in a terrible whisper. ... + +In the succeeding days Kells did not often speak. His recovery was +slow--a matter of doubt. Nothing was any plainer than the fact that +if Joan had left him he would not have lived long. She knew it. And +he knew it. When he was awake, and she came to him, a mournful and +beautiful smile lit his eyes. The sight of her apparently hurt him +and uplifted him. But he slept twenty hours out of every day, and +while he slept he did not need Joan. + +She came to know the meaning of solitude. There were days when she +did not hear the sound of her own voice. A habit of silence, one of +the significant forces of solitude, had grown upon her. Daily she +thought less and felt more. For hours she did nothing. When she +roused herself, compelled herself to think of these encompassing +peaks of the lonely canon walls, the stately trees, all those +eternally silent and changless features of her solitude, she hated +them with a blind and unreasoning passion. She hated them because +she was losing her love for them, because they were becoming a part +of her, because they were fixed and content and passionless. She +liked to sit in the sun, feel its warmth, see its brightness; and +sometimes she almost forgot to go back to her patient. She fought at +times against an insidious change--a growing older--a going +backward; at other times she drifted through hours that seemed quiet +and golden, in which nothing happened. And by and by when she +realized that the drifting hours were gradually swallowing up the +restless and active hours, then strangely, she remembered Jim Cleve. +Memory of him came to save her. She dreamed of him during the long, +lonely, solemn days, and in the dark, silent climax of unbearable +solitude--the night. She remembered his kisses, forgot her anger and +shame, accepted the sweetness of their meaning, and so in the +interminable hours of her solitude she dreamed herself into love for +him. + +Joan kept some record of days, until three weeks or thereabout +passed, and then she lost track of time. It dragged along, yet +looked at as the past, it seemed to have sped swiftly. The change in +her, the growing old, the revelation and responsibility of serf, as +a woman, made this experience appear to have extended over months. + +Kells slowly became convalescent and then he had a relapse. +Something happened, the nature of which Joan could not tell, and he +almost died. There were days when his life hung in the balance, when +he could not talk; and then came a perceptible turn for the better. + +The store of provisions grew low, and Joan began to face another +serious situation. Deer and rabbit were plentiful in the canon, but +she could not kill one with a revolver. She thought she would be +forced to sacrifice one of the horses. The fact that Kells suddenly +showed a craving for meat brought this aspect of the situation to a +climax. And that very morning while Joan was pondering the matter +she saw a number of horsemen riding up the canon toward the cabin. +At the moment she was relieved, and experienced nothing of the dread +she had formerly felt while anticipating this very event. + +"Kells," she said, quickly, "there are men riding up the trail." + +"Good," he exclaimed, weakly, with a light on his drawn face. +"They've been long in--getting here. How many?" + +Joan counted them--five riders, and several pack-animals. + +"Yes. It's Gulden." + +"Gulden!" cried Joan, with a start. + +Her exclamation and tone made Kells regard her attentively. + +"You've heard of him? He's the toughest nut--on this border. ... I +never saw his like. You won't be safe. I'm so helpless. ... What to +say--to tell him! ... Joan, if I should happen to croak--you want +to get away quick ... or shoot yourself." + +How strange to hear this bandit warn her of peril the like of which +she had encountered through him! Joan secured the gun and hid it in +a niche between the logs. Then she looked out again. + +The riders were close at hand now. The foremost one, a man of +Herculean build, jumped his mount across the brook, and leaped off +while he hauled the horse to a stop. The second rider came close +behind him; the others approached leisurely, with the gait of the +pack-animals. + +"Ho, Kells!" called the big man. His voice had a loud, bold, +sonorous kind of ring. + +"Reckon he's here somewheres," said the other man, presently. + +"Sure. I seen his hoss. Jack ain't goin' to be far from thet hoss." + +Then both of them approached the cabin. Joan had never before seen +two such striking, vicious-looking, awesome men. The one was huge-- +so wide and heavy and deep-set that he looked short--and he +resembled a gorilla. The other was tall, slim, with a face as red as +flame, and an expression of fierce keenness. He was stoop +shouldered, yet he held his head erect in a manner that suggested a +wolf scenting blood. + +"Someone here, Pearce," boomed the big man. + +"Why, Gul, if it ain't a girl!" + +Joan moved out of the shadow of the wall of the cabin, and she +pointed to the prostrate figure on the blankets. + +"Howdy boys!" said Kells, wanly. + +Gulden cursed in amaze while Pearce dropped to his knee with an +exclamation of concern. Then both began to talk at once. Kells +interrupted them by lifting a weak hand. + +"No, I'm not going--to cash," he said. "I'm only starved--and in +need of stimulants. Had my back half shot off." + +"Who plugged you, Jack?" + +"Gulden, it was your side-partner, Bill." + +"Bill?" Gulden's voice held a queer, coarse constraint. Then he +added, gruffly. "Thought you and him pulled together." + +"Well, we didn't." + +"And--where's Bill now?" This time Joan heard a slow, curious, cold +note in the heavy voice, and she interpreted it as either doubt or +deceit. + +"Bill's dead and Halloway, too," replied Kells. + +Gulden turned his massive, shaggy head in the direction of Joan. She +had not the courage to meet the gaze upon her. The other man spoke: + +"Split over the girl, Jack?" + +"No," replied Kells, sharply. "They tried to get familiar with--MY +WIFE--and I shot them both." + +Joan felt a swift leap of hot blood all over her and then a +coldness, a sickening, a hateful weakness. + +"Wife!" ejaculated Gulden. + +"Your real wife, Jack?" queried Pearce. + +"Well, I guess, I'll introduce you ... Joan, here are two of my +friends--Sam Gulden and Red Pearce." + +Gulden grunted something. + +"Mrs. Kells, I'm glad to meet you," said Pearce. + +Just then the other three men entered the cabin and Joan took +advantage of the commotion they made to get out into the air. She +felt sick, frightened, and yet terribly enraged. She staggered a +little as she went out, and she knew she was as pale as death. These +visitors thrust reality upon her with a cruel suddenness. There was +something terrible in the mere presence of this Gulden. She had not +yet dared to take a good look at him. But what she felt was +overwhelming. She wanted to run. Yet escape now was infinitely more +of a menace than before. If she slipped away it would be these new +enemies who would pursue her, track her like hounds. She understood +why Kells had introduced her as his wife. She hated the idea with a +shameful and burning hate, but a moment's reflection taught her that +Kells had answered once more to a good instinct. At the moment he +had meant that to protect her. And further reflection persuaded Joan +that she would be wise to act naturally and to carry out the +deception as far as it was possible for her. It was her only hope. +Her position had again grown perilous. She thought of the gun she +had secreted, and it gave her strength to control her agitation and +to return to the cabin outwardly calm. + +The men had Kells half turned over with the flesh of his back +exposed. + +"Aw, Gul, it's whisky he needs," said one. + +"If you let out any more blood he'll croak sure," protested another. + +"Look how weak he is," said Red Pearce. + +"It's a hell of a lot you know," roared Gulden. "I served my time-- +but that's none of your business. ... Look here! See that blue +spot!" Gulden pressed a huge finger down upon the blue welt on +Kells's back. The bandit moaned. "That's lead--that's the bullet," +declared Gulden. + +"Wall, if you ain't correct!" exclaimed Pearce. + +Kells turned his head. "When you punched that place--it made me numb +all over. Gul, if you've located the bullet, cut it out." + +Joan did not watch the operation. As she went away to the seat under +the balsam she heard a sharp cry and then cheers. Evidently the grim +Gulden had been both swift and successful. + +Presently the men came out of the cabin and began to attend to their +horses and the pack-train. + +Pearce looked for Joan, and upon seeing her called out, "Kells wants +you." + +Joan found the bandit half propped up against a saddle with a damp +and pallid face, but an altogether different look. + +"Joan, that bullet was pressing on my spine," he said. "Now it's +out, all that deadness is gone. I feel alive. I'll get well, soon. ... +Gulden was curious over the bullet. It's a forty-four caliber, +and neither Bill Bailey nor Halloway used that caliber of gun. +Gulden remembered. He's cunning. Bill was as near being a friend to +this Gulden as any man I know of. I can't trust any of these men, +particularly Gulden. You stay pretty close by me." + +"Kells, you'll let me go soon--help me to get home?" implored Joan +in a low voice. + +"Girl, it'd never be safe now," he replied. + +"Then later--soon--when it is safe?" + +"We'll see. ... But you're my wife now!" + +With the latter words the man subtly changed. Something of the power +she had felt in him before his illness began again to be manifested. +Joan divined that these comrades had caused the difference in him. + +"You won't dare--!" Joan was unable to conclude her meaning. A tight +band compressed her breast and throat, and she trembled. + +"Will you dare go out there and tell them you're NOT my wife?" he +queried. His voice had grown stronger and his eyes were blending +shadows of thought. + +Joan knew that she dared not. She must choose the lesser of two +evils. "No man--could be such a beast to a woman--after she'd saved +his life," she whispered. + +"I could be anything. You had your chance. I told you to go. I said +if I ever got well I'd be as I was--before." + +"But you'd have died." + +"That would have been better for you .. ... Joan, I'll do this. +Marry you honestly and leave the country. I've gold. I'm young. I +love you. I intend to have you. And I'll begin life over again. What +do you say?" + +"Say? I'd die before--I'd marry you!" she panted, + +"All right, Joan Randle," he replied, bitterly. "For a moment I saw +a ghost. My old dead better self! ... It's gone. ... And you stay +with me." + + + + +7 + +After dark Kells had his men build a fire before the open side of +the cabin. He lay propped up on blankets and his saddle, while the +others lounged or sat in a half-circle in the light, facing him. + +Joan drew her blankets into a corner where the shadows were thick +and she could see without being seen. She wondered how she would +ever sleep near all these wild men--if she could ever sleep again. +Yet she seemed more curious and wakeful than frightened. She had no +way to explain it, but she felt the fact that her presence in the +camp had a subtle influence, at once restraining and exciting. So +she looked out upon the scene with wide-open eyes. + +And she received more strongly than ever an impression of wildness. +Even the camp-fire seemed to burn wildly; it did not glow and +sputter and pale and brighten and sing like an honest camp-fire. It +blazed in red, fierce, hurried flames, wild to consume the logs. It +cast a baleful and sinister color upon the hard faces there. Then +the blackness of the enveloping night was pitchy, without any bold +outline of canon wall or companionship of stars. The coyotes were +out in force and from all around came their wild sharp barks. The +wind rose and mourned weirdly through the balsams. + +But it was in the men that Joan felt mostly that element of +wildness. Kells lay with his ghastly face clear in the play of the +moving flare of light. It was an intelligent, keen, strong face, but +evil. Evil power stood out in the lines, in the strange eyes, +stranger then ever, now in shadow; and it seemed once more the face +of an alert, listening, implacable man, with wild projects in mind, +driving him to the doom he meant for others. Pearce's red face shone +redder in that ruddy light. It was hard, lean, almost fleshless, a +red mask stretched over a grinning skull. The one they called +Frenchy was little, dark, small-featured, with piercing gimlet-like +eyes, and a mouth ready to gush forth hate and violence. The next +two were not particularly individualized by any striking aspect, +merely looking border ruffians after the type of Bill and Halloway. +But Gulden, who sat at the end of the half-circle, was an object +that Joan could scarcely bring her gaze to study. Somehow her first +glance at him put into her mind a strange idea--that she was a woman +and therefore of all creatures or things in the world the farthest +removed from him. She looked away, and found her gaze returning, +fascinated, as if she were a bird and he a snake. The man was of +huge frame, a giant whose every move suggested the acme of physical +power. He was an animal--a gorilla with a shock of light instead of +black hair, of pale instead of black skin. His features might have +been hewn and hammered out with coarse, dull, broken chisels. And +upon his face, in the lines and cords, in the huge caverns where his +eyes hid, and in the huge gash that held strong, white fangs, had +been stamped by nature and by life a terrible ferocity. Here was a +man or a monster in whose presence Joan felt that she would rather +be dead. He did not smoke; he did not indulge in the coarse, good- +natured raillery, he sat there like a huge engine of destruction +that needed no rest, but was forced to rest because of weaker +attachments. On the other hand, he was not sullen or brooding. It +was that he did not seem to think. + +Kells had been rapidly gaining strength since the extraction of the +bullet, and it was evident that his interest was growing +proportionately. He asked questions and received most of his replies +from Red Pearce. Joan did not listen attentively at first, but +presently she regretted that she had not. She gathered that Kells's +fame as the master bandit of the whole gold region of Idaho, Nevada, +and northeastern California was a fame that he loved as much as the +gold he stole. Joan sensed, through the replies of these men and +their attitude toward Kells, that his power was supreme. He ruled +the robbers and ruffians in his bands, and evidently they were +scattered from Bannack to Lewiston and all along the border. He had +power, likewise, over the border hawks not directly under his +leadership. During the weeks of his enforced stay in the canon there +had been a cessation of operations--the nature of which Joan merely +guessed--and a gradual accumulation of idle wailing men in the main +camp. Also she gathered, but vaguely, that though Kells had supreme +power, the organization he desired was yet far from being +consummated. He showed thoughtfulness and irritation by turns, and +it was the subject of gold that drew his intensest interest. + +"Reckon you figgered right, Jack," said Red Pearce, and paused as if +before a long talk, while he refilled his pipe. "Sooner or later +there'll be the biggest gold strike ever made in the West. Wagon- +trains are met every day comin' across from Salt Lake. Prospectors +are workin' in hordes down from Bannack. All the gulches an' valleys +in the Bear Mountains have their camps. Surface gold everywhere an' +easy to get where there's water. But there's diggin's all over. No +big strike yet. It's bound to come sooner or later. An' then when +the news hits the main-traveled roads an' reaches back into the +mountains there's goin' to be a rush that'll make '49 an' '51 look +sick. What do you say, Bate?" + +"Shore will," replied a grizzled individual whom Kells had called +Bate Wood. He was not so young as his companions, more sober, less +wild, and slower of speech. "I saw both '49 and '51. Them was days! +But I'm agreein' with Red. There shore will be hell on this Idaho +border sooner or later. I've been a prospector, though I never +hankered after the hard work of diggin' gold. Gold is hard to dig, +easy to lose, an' easy to get from some other feller. I see the +signs of a comin' strike somewhere in this region. Mebbe it's on +now. There's thousands of prospectors in twos an' threes an' groups, +out in the hills all over. They ain't a-goin' to tell when they do +make a strike. But the gold must be brought out. An' gold is heavy. +It ain't easy hid. Thet's how strikes are discovered. I shore reckon +thet this year will beat '49 an' '51. An' fer two reasons. There's a +steady stream of broken an' disappointed gold-seekers back-trailin' +from California. There's a bigger stream of hopeful an' crazy +fortune hunters travelin' in from the East. Then there's the wimmen +an' gamblers an' such thet hang on. An' last the men thet the war is +drivin' out here. Whenever an' wherever these streams meet, if +there's a big gold strike, there'll be the hellishest time the world +ever saw!" + +"Boys," said Kells, with a ring in his weak voice, "it'll be a +harvest for my Border Legion." + +"Fer what?" queried Bate Wood, curiously. + +All the others except Gulden turned inquiring and interested faces +toward the bandit. + +"The Border Legion," replied Kells. + +"An' what's that?" asked Red Pearce, bluntly. + +"Well, if the time's ripe for the great gold fever you say is +coming, then it's ripe for the greatest band ever organized. I'll +organize. I'll call it the Border Legion." + +"Count me in as right-hand, pard," replied Red, with enthusiasm. + +"An' shore me, boss," added Bate Wood. + +The idea was received vociferously, at which demonstration the giant +Gulden raised his massive head and asked, or rather growled, in a +heavy voice what the fuss was about. His query, his roused presence, +seemed to act upon the others, even Kells, with a strange, +disquieting or halting force, as if here was a character or an +obstacle to be considered. After a moment of silence Red Pearce +explained the project. + +"Huh! Nothing new in that," replied Gulden. "I belonged to one once. +It was in Algiers. They called it the Royal Legion." + +"Algiers. What's thet?" asked Bate Wood. + +"Africa," replied Gulden. + +"Say, Gul, you've been around some," said Red Pearce, admiringly. +"What was the Royal Legion?" + +"Nothing but a lot of devils from all over. The border there was the +last place. Every criminal was safe from pursuit." + +"What'd you do?" + +"Fought among ourselves. Wasn't many in the Legion when I left." + +"Shore thet ain't strange!" exclaimed Wood, significantly. But his +inference was lost upon Gulden. + +"I won't allow fighting in my Legion," said Kells, coolly. "I'll +pick this band myself." + +"Thet's the secret," rejoined Wood. "The right fellers. I've been in +all kinds of bands. Why, I even was a vigilante in '51." + +This elicited a laugh from his fellows, except the wooden-faced +Gulden. + +"How many do we want?" asked Red Pearce. + +"The number doesn't matter. But they must be men I can trust and +control. Then as lieutenants I'll need a few young fellows, like +you, Red. Nervy, daring, cool, quick of wits." + +Red Pearce enjoyed the praise bestowed upon him and gave his +shoulders a swagger. "Speakin' of that, boss," he said, "reminds me +of a chap who rode into Cabin Gulch a few weeks ago. Braced right +into Beard's place, where we was all playin' faro, an' he asks for +Jack Kells. Right off we all thought he was a guy who had a +grievance, an' some of us was for pluggin' him. But I kinda liked +him an' I cooled the gang down. Glad I did that. He wasn't wantin' +to throw a gun. His intentions were friendly. Of course I didn't +show curious about who or what he was. Reckoned he was a young +feller who'd gone bad sudden-like an' was huntin' friends. An' I'm +here to say, boss, that he was wild." + +"What's his name?" asked Kells. + +"Jim Cleve, he said," replied Pearce. + +Joan Randle, hidden back in the shadows, forgotten or ignored by +this bandit group, heard the name Jim Cleve with pain and fear, but +not amaze. From the moment Pearce began his speech she had been +prepared for the revelation of her runaway lover's name. She +trembled, and grew a little sick. Jim had made no idle threat. +What would she have given to live over again the moment that had +alienated him? + +"Jim Cleve," mused Kells. "Never heard of him. And I never forget a +name or a face. What's he like?" + +"Clean, rangy chap, big, but not too big," replied Pearce. "All +muscle. Not more'n twenty three. Hard rider, hard fighter, hard +gambler an' drinker--reckless as hell. If only you can steady him, +boss! Ask Bate what he thinks." + +"Well!" exclaimed Kells in surprise. "Strangers are everyday +occurrences on this border. But I never knew one to impress you +fellows as this Cleve. ... Bate, what do you say? What's this Cleve +done? You're an old head. Talk, sense, now." + +"Done?" echoed Wood, scratching his grizzled head. "What in the hell +ain't he done? ... He rode in brazener than any feller thet ever +stacked up against this outfit. An' straight-off he wins the outfit. +I don't know how he done it. Mebbe it was because you seen he didn't +care fer anythin' or anybody on earth. He stirred us up. He won all +the money we had in camp--broke most of us--an' give it all back. He +drank more'n the whole outfit, yet didn't get drunk. He threw his +gun on Beady Jones fer cheatin' an' then on Beady's pard, Chick +Williams. Didn't shoot to kill--jest winged 'em. But say, he's the +quickest and smoothest hand to throw a gun thet ever hit this +border. Don't overlook thet. ... Kells, this Jim Cleve's a great +youngster goin' bad quick. An' I'm here to add that he'll take some +company along." + +"Bate, you forgot to tell how he handled Luce," said Red Pearee. +"You was there. I wasn't. Tell Kells that." + +"Luce. I know the man. Go ahead, Bate," responded Kells. + +"Mebbe it ain't any recommendation fer said Jim Cleve," replied +Wood. "Though it did sorta warm me to him. ... Boss, of course, you +recollect thet little Brander girl over at Bear Lake village. She's +old Brander's girl--worked in his store there. I've seen you talk +sweet to her myself. Wal, it seems the old man an' some of his boys +took to prospectin' an' fetched the girl along. Thet's how I +understood it. Luce came bracin' in over at Cabin Gulch one day. As +usual, we was drinkin' an' playin'. But young Cleve wasn't doin' +neither. He had a strange, moody spell thet day, as I recollect. +Luce sprung a job on us. We never worked with him or his outfit, but +mebbe--you can't tell what'd come off if it hadn't been for Cleve. +Luce had a job put up to ride down where ole Brander was washin' fer +gold, take what he had--AN' the girl. Fact was the gold was only +incidental. When somebody cornered Luce he couldn't swear there was +gold worth goin' after. An' about then Jim Cleve woke up. He cussed +Luce somethin' fearful. An' when Luce went for his gun, natural- +like, why this Jim Cleve took it away from him. An' then he jumped +Luce. He knocked an' threw him around an' he near beat him to death +before we could interfere. Luce was shore near dead. All battered +up--broken bones--an' what-all I can't say. We put him to bed an' +he's there yet, an' he'll never be the same man he was." + +A significant silence fell upon the group at the conclusion of +Wood's narrative. Wood had liked the telling, and it made his +listeners thoughtful. All at once the pale face of Kells turned +slightly toward Gulden. + +"Gulden, did you hear that?" asked Kells. + +"Yes," replied the man. + +"What do you think about this Jim Cleve--and the job he prevented?" + +"Never saw Cleve. I'll look him up when we get back to camp. Then +I'll go after the Brander girl." + +How strangely his brutal assurance marked a line between him and his +companions! There was something wrong, something perverse in this +Gulden. Had Kells meant to bring that point out or to get an +impression of Cleve? + +Joan could not decide. She divined that there was antagonism between +Gulden and all the others. And there was something else, vague and +intangible, that might have been fear. Apparently Gulden was a +criminal for the sake of crime. Joan regarded him with a growing +terror--augmented the more because he alone kept eyes upon the +corner where she was hidden--and she felt that compared with him the +others, even Kells, of whose cold villainy she was assured, were but +insignificant men of evil. She covered her head with a blanket to +shut out sight of that shaggy, massive head and the great dark caves +of eyes. + +Thereupon Joan did not see or hear any more of the bandits. +Evidently the conversation died down, or she, in the absorption of +new thoughts, no longer heard. She relaxed, and suddenly seemed to +quiver all over with the name she whispered to herself. "Jim! Jim! +Oh, Jim!" And the last whisper was an inward sob. What he had done +was terrible. It tortured her. She had not believed it in him. Yet, +now she thought, how like him. All for her--in despair and spite--he +had ruined himself. He would be killed out there in some drunken +brawl, or, still worse, he would become a member of this bandit crew +and drift into crime. That was a great blow to Joan--that the curse +she had put upon him. How silly, false, and vain had been her +coquetry, her indifference! She loved Jim Cleve. She had not known +that when she started out to trail him, to fetch him back, but she +knew it now. She ought to have known before. + +The situation she had foreseen loomed dark and monstrous and +terrible in prospect. Just to think of it made her body creep and +shudder with cold terror. Yet there was that strange, inward, +thrilling burn round her heart. Somewhere and soon she was coming +face to face with this changed Jim Cleve--this boy who had become a +reckless devil. What would he do? What could she do? Might he not +despise her, scorn her, curse her, taking her at Kells's word, the +wife of a bandit? But no! he would divine the truth in the flash of +an eye. And then! She could not think what might happen, but it must +mean blood-death. If he escaped Kells, how could he ever escape this +Gulden--this huge vulture of prey? + +Still, with the horror thick upon her, Joan could not wholly give +up. The moment Jim Cleve's name and his ruin burst upon her ears, in +the gossip of these bandits, she had become another girl--a girl +wholly become a woman, and one with a driving passion to save if it +cost her life. She lost her fear of Kells, of the others, of all +except Gulden. He was not human, and instinctively she knew she +could do nothing with him. She might influence the others, but never +Gulden. + +The torment in her brain eased then, and gradually she quieted down, +with only a pang and a weight in her breast. The past seemed far +away. The present was nothing. Only the future, that contained Jim +Cleve, mattered to her. She would not have left the clutches of +Kells, if at that moment she could have walked forth free and safe. +She was going on to Cabin Gulch. And that thought was the last one +in her weary mind as she dropped to sleep. + + + + +8 + +In three days--during which time Joan attended Kells as faithfully +as if she were indeed his wife--he thought that he had gained +sufficiently to undertake the journey to the main camp, Cabin Gulch. +He was eager to get back there and imperious in his overruling of +any opposition. The men could take turns at propping him in a +saddle. So on the morning of the fourth day they packed for the +ride. + +During these few days Joan had verified her suspicion that Kells had +two sides to his character; or it seemed, rather, that her presence +developed a latent or a long-dead side. When she was with him, +thereby distracting his attention, he was entirely different from +what he was when his men surrounded him. Apparently he had no +knowledge of this. He showed surprise and gratitude at Joan's +kindness though never pity or compassion for her. That he had become +infatuated with her Joan could no longer doubt. His strange eyes +followed her; there was a dreamy light in them; he was mostly silent +with her. + +Before those few days had come to an end he had developed two +things--a reluctance to let Joan leave his sight and an intolerance +of the presence of the other men, particularly Gulden. Always Joan +felt the eyes of these men upon her, mostly in unobtrusive glances, +except Gulden's. The giant studied her with slow, cavernous stare, +without curiosity or speculation or admiration. Evidently a woman +was a new and strange creature to him and he was experiencing +unfamiliar sensations. Whenever Joan accidentally met his gaze--for +she avoided it as much as possible--she shuddered with sick memory +of a story she had heard--how a huge and ferocious gorilla had +stolen into an African village and run off with a white woman. She +could not shake the memory. And it was this that made her kinder to +Kells than otherwise would have been possible. + +All Joan's faculties sharpened in this period. She felt her own +development--the beginning of a bitter and hard education--an +instinctive assimilation of all that nature taught its wild people +and creatures, the first thing in elemental life--self-preservation. +Parallel in her heart and mind ran a hopeless despair and a driving, +unquenchable spirit. The former was fear, the latter love. She +believed beyond a doubt that she had doomed herself along with Jim +Cleve; she felt that she had the courage, the power, the love to +save him, if not herself. And the reason that she did not falter and +fail in this terrible situation was because her despair, great as it +was, did not equal her love. + +That morning, before being lifted upon his horse, Kells buckled on +his gun-belt. The sheath and full round of shells and the gun made +this belt a burden for a weak man. And so Red Pearce insisted. But +Kells laughed in his face. The men, always excepting Gulden, were +unfailing in kindness and care. Apparently they would have fought +for Kells to the death. They were simple and direct in their rough +feelings. But in Kells, Joan thought, was a character who was a +product of this border wildness, yet one who could stand aloof from +himself and see the possibilities, the unexpected, the meaning of +that life. Kells knew that a man and yet another might show kindness +and faithfulness one moment, but the very next, out of a manhood +retrograded to the savage, out of the circumstance or chance, might +respond to a primitive force far sundered from thought or reason, +and rise to unbridled action. Joan divined that Kells buckled on his +gun to be ready to protect her. But his men never dreamed his +motive. Kells was a strong, bad man set among men like him, yet he +was infinitely different because he had brains. + +On the start of the journey Joan was instructed to ride before Kells +and Pearce, who supported the leader in his saddle. The pack-drivers +and Bate Wood and Frenchy rode ahead; Gulden held to the rear. And +this order was preserved till noon, when the cavalcade halted for a +rest in a shady, grassy, and well-watered nook. Kells was haggard, +and his brow wet with clammy dew, and lined with pain. Yet he was +cheerful and patient. Still he hurried the men through their tasks. + +In an hour the afternoon travel was begun. The canon and its +surroundings grew more rugged and of larger dimensions. Yet the +trail appeared to get broader and better all the time. Joan noticed +intersecting trails, running down from side canons and gulches. The +descent was gradual, and scarcely evident in any way except in the +running water and warmer air. + +Kells, tired before the middle of the afternoon, and he would have +fallen from his saddle but for the support of his fellows. One by +one they held him up. And it was not easy work to ride alongside, +holding him up. Joan observed that Gulden did not offer his +services. He seemed a part of this gang, yet not of it. Joan never +lost a feeling of his presence behind her, and from time to time, +when he rode closer, the feeling grew stronger. Toward the close of +that afternoon she became aware of Gulden's strange attention. And +when a halt was made for camp she dreaded something nameless. + +This halt occurred early, before sunset, and had been necessitated +by the fact that Kells was fainting. They laid him out on blankets, +with his head in his saddle. Joan tended him, and he recovered +somewhat, though he lacked the usual keenness. + +It was a busy hour with saddles, packs, horses, with wood to cut and +fire to build and meal to cook. Kells drank thirstily, but refused +food. + +"Joan," he whispered, at an opportune moment, "I'm only tired--dead +for sleep. You stay beside me. Wake me quick--if you want to!" + +He closed his eyes wearily, without explaining, and soon slumbered. +Joan did not choose to allow these men to see that she feared them +or distrusted them or disliked them. She ate with them beside the +fire. And this was their first opportunity to be close to her. The +fact had an immediate and singular influence. Joan had no vanity, +though she knew she was handsome. She forced herself to be pleasant, +agreeable, even sweet. Their response was instant and growing. At +first they were bold, then familiar and coarse. For years she had +been used to rough men of the camps. These however, were different, +and their jokes and suggestions had no effect because they were +beyond her. And when this became manifest to them that aspect of +their relation to her changed. She grasped the fact intuitively, and +then she verified it by proof. Her heart beat strong and high. If +she could hide her hate, her fear, her abhorrence, she could +influence these wild men. But it all depended upon her charm, her +strangeness, her femininity. Insensibly they had been influenced, +and it proved that in the worst of men there yet survived some good. +Gulden alone presented a contrast and a problem. He appeared aware +of her presence while he sat there eating like a wolf, but it was as +if she were only an object. The man watched as might have an animal. + +Her experience at the camp-fire meal inclined her to the belief +that, if there were such a possibility as her being safe at all, it +would be owing to an unconscious and friendly attitude toward the +companions she had been forced to accept. Those men were pleased, +stirred at being in her vicinity. Joan came to a melancholy and +fearful cognizance of her attraction. While at home she seldom had +borne upon her a reality--that she was a woman. Her place, her +person were merely natural. Here it was all different. To these wild +men, developed by loneliness, fierce-blooded, with pulses like +whips, a woman was something that thrilled, charmed, soothed, that +incited a strange, insatiable, inexplicable hunger for the very +sight of her. They did not realize it, but Joan did. + +Presently Joan finished her supper and said: "I'll go hobble my +horse. He strays sometimes." + +"Shore I'll go, miss," said Bate Wood. He had never called her Mrs. +Kells, but Joan believed he had not thought of the significance. +Hardened old ruffian that he was. Joan regarded him as the best of a +bad lot. He had lived long, and some of his life had not been bad. + +"Let me go," added Pearce. + +"No, thanks. I'll go myself," she replied. + +She took the rope hobble off her saddle and boldly swung down the +trail. Suddenly she heard two or more of the men speak at once, and +then, low and clear: "Gulden, where'n hell are you goin'?" This was +Red Pearce's voice. + +Joan glanced back. Gulden had started down the trail after her. Her +heart quaked, her knees shook, and she was ready to run back. Gulden +halted, then turned away, growling. He acted as if caught in +something surprising to himself. + +"We're on to you, Gulden," continued Pearce, deliberately. "Be +careful or we'll put Kells on." + +A booming, angry curse was the response. The men grouped closer and +a loud altercation followed. Joan almost ran down the trail and +heard no more. If any one of them had started her way now she would +have plunged into the thickets like a frightened deer. Evidently, +however, they meant to let her alone. Joan found her horse, and +before hobbling him she was assailed by a temptation to mount him +and ride away. This she did not want to do and would not do under +any circumstances; still, she could not prevent the natural +instinctive impulse of a woman. + +She crossed to the other side of the brook and returned toward camp +under the spruce and balsam trees, She did not hurry. It was good to +be alone, out of sight of those violent men, away from that constant +wearing physical proof of catastrophe. Nevertheless, she did not +feel free or safe for a moment; she peered fearfully into the +shadows of the rocks and trees; and presently it was a relief to get +back to the side of the sleeping Kells. He lay in a deep slumber of +exhaustion. She arranged her own saddle and blankets near him, and +prepared to meet the night as best she could. Instinctively she took +a position where in one swift snatch she could get possession of +Kells's gun. + +It was about time of sunset, warm and still in the canon, with rosy +lights fading upon the peaks. The men were all busy with one thing +and another. Strange it was to see that Gulden, who Joan thought +might be a shirker, did twice the work of any man, especially the +heavy work. He seemed to enjoy carrying a log that would have +overweighted two ordinary men. He was so huge, so active, so +powerful that it was fascinating to watch him. They built the camp- +fire for the night uncomfortably near Joan's position; however, +remembering how cold the air would become later, she made no +objection. Twilight set in and the men, through for the day, +gathered near the fire. + +Then Joan was not long in discovering that the situation had begun +to impinge upon the feelings of each of these men. They looked at +her differently. Some of them invented pretexts to approach her, to +ask something, to offer service--anything to get near her. A +personal and individual note had been injected into the attitude of +each. Intuitively Joan guessed that Gulden's arising to follow her +had turned their eyes inward. Gulden remained silent and inactive at +the edge of the camp-fire circle of light, which flickered fitfully +around him, making him seem a huge, gloomy ape of a man. So far as +Joan could tell, Gulden never cast his eyes in her direction. That +was a difference which left cause for reflection. Had that hulk of +brawn and bone begun to think? Bate Wood's overtures to Joan were +rough, but inexplicable to her because she dared not wholly trust +him. + +"An' shore, miss," he had concluded, in a hoarse whisper, "we-all +know you ain't Kells's wife. Thet bandit wouldn't marry no woman. +He's a woman-hater. He was famous fer thet over in California. He's +run off with you--kidnapped you, thet's shore. ... An' Gulden swears +he shot his own men an' was in turn shot by you. Thet bullet-hole in +his back was full of powder. There's liable to be a muss-up any +time. ... Shore, miss, you'd better sneak off with me tonight when +they're all asleep. I'll git grub an' hosses, an' take you off to +some prospector's camp. Then you can git home." + +Joan only shook her head. Even if she could have felt trust in +Wood--and she was of half a mind to believe him--it was too late. +Whatever befell her mattered little if in suffering it she could +save Jim Cleve from the ruin she had wrought. + +Since this wild experience of Joan's had begun she had been sick so +many times with raw and naked emotions hitherto unknown to her, that +she believed she could not feel another new fear or torture. But +these strange sensations grew by what they had been fed upon. + +The man called Frenchy, was audacious, persistent, smiling, amorous- +eyed, and rudely gallant. He cared no more for his companions than +if they had not been there. He vied with Pearce in his attention, +and the two of them discomfited the others. The situation might have +been amusing had it not been so terrible. Always the portent was a +shadow behind their interest and amiability and jealousy. Except for +that one abrupt and sinister move of Gulden's--that of a natural man +beyond deceit--there was no word, no look, no act at which Joan +could have been offended. They were joking, sarcastic, ironical, and +sullen in their relation to each other; but to Joan each one +presented what was naturally or what he considered his kindest and +most friendly front. A young and attractive woman had dropped into +the camp of lonely wild men; and in their wild hearts was a rebirth +of egotism, vanity, hunger for notice. They seemed as foolish as a +lot of cock grouse preening themselves and parading before a single +female. Surely in some heart was born real brotherhood for a +helpless girl in peril. Inevitably in some of them would burst a +flame of passion as it had in Kells. + +Between this amiable contest for Joan's glances and replies, with +its possibility of latent good to her, and the dark, lurking, +unspoken meaning, such as lay in Gulden's brooding, Joan found +another new and sickening torture. + +"Say, Frenchy, you're no lady's man," declared Red Pearce, "an' you, +Bate, you're too old. Move--pass by--sashay!" Pearce, good- +naturedly, but deliberately, pushed the two men back. + +"Shore she's Kells's lady, ain't she?" drawled Wood. "Ain't you all +forgettin' thet?" + +"Kells is asleep or dead," replied Pearce, and he succeeded in +getting the field to himself. + +"Where'd you meet Kells anyway?" he asked Joan, with his red face +bending near hers. + +Joan had her part to play. It was difficult, because she divined +Pearce's curiosity held a trap to catch her in a falsehood. He knew-- +they all knew she was not Kells's wife. But if she were a prisoner +she seemed a willing and contented one. The query that breathed in +Pearce's presence was how was he to reconcile the fact of her +submission with what he and his comrades had potently felt as her +goodness? + +"That doesn't concern anybody," replied Joan. + +"Reckon not," said Pearce. Then he leaned nearer with intense face. +"What I want to know--is Gulden right? Did you shoot Kells?" + +In the dusk Joan reached back and clasped Kells hand. + +For a man as weak and weary as he had been, it was remarkable how +quickly a touch awakened him. He lifted his head. + +"Hello! Who's that?" he called out, sharply. + +Pearce rose guardedly, startled, but not confused. "It's only me, +boss," he replied. "I was about to turn in, an' I wanted to know how +you are--if I could do anythin'." + +"I'm all right, Red," replied Kells, coolly. "Clear out and let me +alone. All of you." + +Pearce moved away with an amiable good-night and joined the others +at the camp-fire. Presently they sought their blankets, leaving +Gulden hunching there silent in the gloom. + +"Joan, why did you wake me?" whispered Kells. + +"Pearce asked me if I shot you," replied Joan. "I woke you instead +of answering him." + +"He did!" exclaimed Kells under his breath. Then he laughed. "Can't +fool that gang. I guess it doesn't matter. Maybe it'd be well if +they knew you shot me." + +He appeared thoughtful, and lay there with the fading flare of the +fire on his pale face. But he did not speak again. Presently he fell +asleep. + +Joan leaned back, within reach of him, with her head in her saddle, +and pulling a blanket up over her, relaxed her limbs to rest. Sleep +seemed the furthest thing from her. She wondered that she dared to +think of it. The night had grown chilly; the wind was sweeping with +low roar through the balsams; the fire burned dull and red. Joan +watched the black, shapeless hulk that she knew to be Gulden. For a +long time he remained motionless. By and by he moved, approached the +fire, stood one moment in the dying ruddy glow, his great breadth +and bulk magnified, with all about him vague and shadowy, but the +more sinister for that. The cavernous eyes were only black spaces in +that vast face, yet Joan saw them upon her. He lay down then among +the other men and soon his deep and heavy breathing denoted the +tranquil slumber of an ox. + +For hours through changing shadows and starlight Joan lay awake, +while a thousand thoughts besieged her, all centering round that +vital and compelling one of Jim Cleve. + +Only upon awakening, with the sun in her face, did Joan realize that +she had actually slept. + +The camp was bustling with activity. The horses were in, fresh and +quarrelsome, with ears laid back. Kells was sitting upon a rock near +the fire with a cup of coffee in his hand. He was looking better. +When he greeted Joan his voice sounded stronger. She walked by +Pearce and Frenchy and Gulden on her way to the brook, but they took +no notice of her. Bate Wood, however, touched his sombrero and said: +"Mornin', miss." Joan wondered if her memory of the preceding night +were only a bad dream. There was a different atmosphere by daylight, +and it was dominated by Kells. Presently she returned to camp +refreshed and hungry. Gulden was throwing a pack, which action he +performed with ease and dexterity. Pearce was cinching her saddle. +Kells was talking, more like his old self than at any time since his +injury. + +Soon they were on the trail. For Joan time always passed swiftly on +horseback. Movement and changing scene were pleasurable to her. The +passing of time now held a strange expectancy, a mingled fear and +hope and pain, for at the end of this trail was Jim Cleve. In other +days she had flouted him, made fun of him, dominated him, everything +except loved and feared him. And now she was assured of her love and +almost convinced of her fear. The reputation these wild bandits gave +Jim was astounding and inexplicable to Joan. She rode the miles +thinking of Jim, dreading to meet him, longing to see him, and +praying and planning for him. + +About noon the cavalcade rode out of the mouth of a canon into a +wide valley, surrounded by high, rounded foot-hills. Horses and +cattle were grazing on the green levels. A wide, shallow, noisy +stream split the valley. Joan could tell from the tracks at the +crossing that this place, whatever and wherever it was, saw +considerable travel; and she concluded the main rendezvous of the +bandits was close at hand. + +The pack drivers led across the stream and the valley to enter an +intersecting ravine. It was narrow, rough-sided, and floored, but +the trail was good. Presently it opened out into a beautiful V- +shaped gulch, very different from the high-walled, shut-in canons. +It had a level floor, through which a brook flowed, and clumps of +spruce and pine, with here and there a giant balsam. Huge patches of +wild flowers gave rosy color to the grassy slopes. At the upper end +of this gulch Joan saw a number of widely separated cabins. This +place, then, was Cabin Gulch. + +Upon reaching the first cabin the cavalcade split up. There were men +here who hallooed a welcome. Gulden halted with his pack-horse. Some +of the others rode on. Wood drove other pack-animals off to the +right, up the gentle slope. And Red Pearce, who was beside Kells, +instructed Joan to follow them. They rode up to a bench of +straggling spruce-trees, in the midst of which stood a large log +cabin. It was new, as in fact all the structures in the Gulch +appeared to be, and none of them had seen a winter. The chinks +between the logs were yet open. This cabin was of the rudest make of +notched logs one upon another, and roof of brush and earth. It was +low and flat, but very long, and extending before the whole of it +was a porch roof supported by posts. At one end was a corral. There +were doors and windows with nothing in them. Upon the front wall, +outside, hung saddles and bridles. + +Joan had a swift, sharp gaze for the men who rose from their +lounging to greet the travelers. Jim Cleve was not among them. Her +heart left her throat then, and she breathed easier. How could she +meet him? + +Kells was in better shape than at noon of the preceding day. Still, +he had to be lifted off his horse. Joan heard all the men talking at +once. They crowded round Pearce, each lending a hand. However, Kells +appeared able to walk into the cabin. It was Bate Wood who led Joan +inside. + +There was a long room, with stone fireplace, rude benches and a +table, skins and blankets on the floor, and lanterns and weapons on +the wall. At one end Joan saw a litter of cooking utensils and +shelves of supplies. + +Suddenly Kells's impatient voice silenced the clamor of questions. +"I'm not hurt," he said. "I'm all right--only weak and tired. +Fellows, this girl is my wife. ... Joan, you'll find a room there-- +at the back of the cabin. Make yourself comfortable." + +Joan was only too glad to act upon his suggestion. A door had been +cut through the back wall. It was covered with a blanket. When she +swept this aside she came upon several steep steps that led up to a +smaller, lighter cabin of two rooms, separated by a partition of +boughs. She dropped the blanket behind her and went up the steps. +Then she saw that the new cabin had been built against an old one. +It had no door or opening except the one by which she had entered. +It was light because the chinks between the logs were open. The +furnishings were a wide bench of boughs covered with blankets, a +shelf with a blurred and cracked mirror hanging above it, a table +made of boxes, and a lantern. This room was four feet higher than +the floor of the other cabin. And at the bottom of the steps leaned +a half-dozen slender trimmed poles. She gathered presently that +these poles were intended to be slipped under crosspieces above and +fastened by a bar below, which means effectually barricaded the +opening. Joan could stand at the head of the steps and peep under an +edge of the swinging blanket into the large room, but that was the +only place she could see through, for the openings between the logs +of each wall were not level. These quarters were comfortable, +private, and could be shut off from intruders. Joan had not expected +so much consideration from Kells and she was grateful. + +She lay down to rest and think. It was really very pleasant here. +There were birds nesting in the chinks; a ground squirrel ran along +one of the logs and chirped at her; through an opening near her face +she saw a wild rose-bush and the green slope of the gulch; a soft, +warm, fragrant breeze blew in, stirring her hair. How strange that +there could be beautiful and pleasant things here in this robber +den; that time was the same here as elsewhere; that the sun shone +and the sky gleamed blue. Presently she discovered that a lassitude +weighted upon her and she could not keep her eyes open. She ceased +trying, but intended to remain awake--to think, to listen, to wait. +Nevertheless, she did fall asleep and did not awaken till disturbed +by some noise. The color of the western sky told her that the +afternoon was far spent. She had slept hours. Someone was knocking. +She got up and drew aside the blanket. Bate Wood was standing near +the door. + +"Now, miss, I've supper ready," he said, "an' I was reckonin' you'd +like me to fetch yours." + +"Yes, thank you, I would," replied Joan. + +In a few moments Wood returned carrying the top of a box upon which +were steaming pans and cups. He handed this rude tray up to Joan. + +"Shore I'm a first-rate cook, miss, when I've somethin' to cook," he +said with a smile that changed his hard face. + +She returned the smile with her thanks. Evidently Kells had a well- +filled larder, and as Joan had fared on coarse and hard food for +long, this supper was a luxury and exceedingly appetizing. While she +was eating, the blanket curtain moved aside and Kells appeared. He +dropped it behind him, but did not step up into the room. He was in +his shirt-sleeves, had been clean shaven, and looked a different +man. + +"How do you like your--home?" he inquired, with a hint of his former +mockery. + +"I'm grateful for the privacy," she replied. + +"You think you could be worse off, then?" + +"I know it." + +"Suppose Gulden kills me--and rules the gang--and takes you? ... +There's a story about him, the worst I've heard on this border. I'll +tell you some day when I want to scare you bad." + +"Gulden!" Joan shivered as she pronounced the name. "Are you and he +enemies?" + +"No man can have a friend on this border. We flock together like +buzzards. There's safety in numbers, but we fight together, like +buzzards over carrion." + +"Kells, you hate this life?" + +"I've always hated my life, everywhere. The only life I ever loved +was adventure. ... I'm willing to try a new one, if you'll go with +me." + +Joan shook her head. + +"Why not? I'll marry you," he went on, speaking lower. "I've got +gold; I'll get more." + +"Where did you get the gold?" she asked + +"I've relieved a good many overburdened travelers and prospectors," +he replied. + +"Kells, you're a--a villain!" exclaimed Joan, unable to contain her +sudden heat. "You must be utterly mad--to ask me to marry you." + +"No, I'm not mad," he rejoined, with a laugh. "Gulden's the mad one. +He's crazy. He's got a twist in his brain. I'm no fool. ... I've +only lost my head over you. But compare marrying me, living and +traveling among decent people and comfort, to camps like this. If I +don't get drunk I'll be half decent to you. But I'll get shot sooner +or later. Then you'll be left to Gulden." + +"Why do you say HIM?" she queried, in a shudder of curiosity. + +"Well, Gulden haunts me." + +"He does me, too. He makes me lose my sense of proportion. Beside +him you and the others seem good. But you ARE wicked." + +"Then you won't marry me and go away somewhere? ... Your choice is +strange. Because I tell you the truth." + +"Kells! I'm a woman. Something deep in me says you won't keep me +here--you can't be so base. Not now, after I saved your life! It +would be horrible--inhuman. I can't believe any man born of a woman +could do it." + +"But I want you--I love you!" he said, low and hard. + +"Love! That's not love," she replied in scorn. "God only knows what +it is." + +"Call it what you like," he went on, bitterly. "You're a young, +beautiful, sweet woman. It's wonderful to be near you. My life has +been hell. I've had nothing. There's only hell to look forward to-- +and hell at the end. Why shouldn't I keep you here?" + +"But, Kells, listen," she whispered, earnestly, "suppose I am young +and beautiful and sweet--as you said. I'm utterly in your power. I'm +compelled to seek your protection from even worse men. You're +different from these others. You're educated. You must have had--a-- +a good mother. Now you're bitter, desperate, terrible. You hate +life. You seem to think this charm you see in me will bring you +something. Maybe a glimpse of joy! But how can it? You know better. +How can it ... unless I--I love you?" + +Kells stared at her, the evil and hardness of his passion corded in +his face. And the shadows of comprehending thought in his strange +eyes showed the other side of the man. He was still staring at her +while he reached to put aside the curtains; then he dropped his head +and went out. + +Joan sat motionless, watching the door where he had disappeared, +listening to the mounting beats of her heart. She had only been +frank and earnest with Kells. But he had taken a meaning from her +last few words that she had not intended to convey. All that was +woman in her--mounting, righting, hating--leaped to the power she +sensed in herself. If she could be deceitful, cunning, shameless in +holding out to Kells a possible return of his love, she could do +anything with him. She knew it. She did not need to marry him or +sacrifice herself. Joan was amazed that the idea remained an instant +before her consciousness. But something had told her this was +another kind of life than she had known, and all that was precious +to her hung in the balance. Any falsity was justifiable, even +righteous, under the circumstances. Could she formulate a plan that +this keen bandit would not see through? The remotest possibility of +her even caring for Kells--that was as much as she dared hint. But +that, together with all the charm and seductiveness she could +summon, might be enough. Dared she try it? If she tried and failed +Kells would despise her, and then she was utterly lost. She was +caught between doubt and hope. All that was natural and true in her +shrank from such unwomanly deception; all that had been born of her +wild experience inflamed her to play the game, to match Kells's +villainy with a woman's unfathomable duplicity. + +And while Joan was absorbed in thought the sun set, the light +failed, twilight stole into the cabin, and then darkness. All this +hour there had been a continual sound of men's voices in the large +cabin, sometimes low and at other times loud. It was only when Joan +distinctly heard the name Jim Cleve that she was startled out of her +absorption, thrilling and flushing. In her eagerness she nearly fell +as she stepped and gropped through the darkness to the door, and as +she drew aside the blanket her hand shook. + +The large room was lighted by a fire and half a dozen lanterns. +Through a faint tinge of blue smoke Joan saw men standing and +sitting and lounging around Kells, who had a seat where the light +fell full upon him. Evidently a lull had intervened in the talk. The +dark faces Joan could see were all turned toward the door +expectantly. + +"Bring him in, Bate, and let's look him over," said Kells. + +Then Bate Wood appeared, elbowing his way in, and he had his hand on +the arm of a tall, lithe fellow. When they got into the light Joan +quivered as if she had been stabbed. That stranger with Wood was Jim +Cleve--Jim Cleve in frame and feature, yet not the same she knew. + +"Cleve, glad to meet you," greeted Kells, extending his hand. + +"Thanks. Same to you," replied Cleve, and he met the proffered hand. +His voice was cold and colorless, unfamiliar to Joan. Was this man +really Jim Cleve? + +The meeting of Kells and Cleve was significant because of Kells's +interest and the silent attention of the men of his clan. It did not +seem to mean anything to the white-faced, tragic-eyed Cleve. Joan +gazed at him with utter amazement. She remembered a heavily built, +florid Jim Cleve, an overgrown boy with a good-natured, lazy smile +on his full face and sleepy eyes. She all but failed to recognize +him in the man who stood there now, lithe and powerful, with muscles +bulging in his coarse, white shirt. Joan's gaze swept over him, up +and down, shivering at the two heavy guns he packed, till it was +transfixed on his face. The old, or the other, Jim Cleve had been +homely, with too much flesh on his face to show force or fire. This +man seemed beautiful. But it was a beauty of tragedy. He was as +white as Kells, but smoothly, purely white, without shadow or +sunburn. His lips seemed to have set with a bitter, indifferent +laugh. His eyes looked straight out, piercing, intent, haunted, and +as dark as night. Great blue circles lay under them, lending still +further depth and mystery. It was a sad, reckless face that wrung +Joan's very heartstrings. She had come too late to save his +happiness, but she prayed that it was not too late to save his honor +and his soul. + +While she gazed there had been further exchange of speech between +Kells and Cleve, and she had heard, though not distinguished, what +was said. Kells was unmistakably friendly, as were the other men +within range of Joan's sight. Cleve was surrounded; there were +jesting and laughter; and then he was led to the long table where +several men were already gambling. + +Joan dropped the curtain, and in the darkness of her cabin she saw +that white, haunting face, and when she covered her eyes she still +saw it. The pain, the reckless violence, the hopeless indifference, +the wreck and ruin in that face had been her doing. Why? How had Jim +Cleve wronged her? He had loved her at her displeasure and had +kissed her against her will. She had furiously upbraided him, and +when he had finally turned upon her, threatening to prove he was no +coward, she had scorned him with a girl's merciless injustice. All +her strength and resolve left her, momentarily, after seeing Jim +there. Like a woman, she weakened. She lay on the bed and writhed. +Doubt, hopelessness, despair, again seized upon her, and some +strange, yearning maddening emotion. What had she sacrificed? His +happiness and her own--and both their lives! + +The clamor in the other cabin grew so boisterous that suddenly when +it stilled Joan was brought sharply to the significance of it. Again +she drew aside the curtain and peered out. + +Gulden, huge, stolid, gloomy, was entering the cabin. The man fell +into the circle and faced Kell with the fire-light dancing in his +cavernous eyes. + +"Hello, Gulden!" said Kells, coolly. "What ails you?" + +"Anybody tell you about Bill Bailey?" asked Gulden, heavily. + +Kells did not show the least concern. "Tell me what?" + +"That he died in a cabin, down in the valley?" + +Kells gave a slight start and his eyes narrowed and shot steely +glints. "No. It's news to me." + +"Kells, you left Bailey for dead. But he lived. He was shot through, +but he got there somehow--nobody knows. He was far gone when Beady +Jones happened along. Before he died he sent word to me by Beady. ... +Are you curious to know what it was?" + +"Not the least," replied Kells. "Bailey was--well, offensive to my +wife. I shot him." + +"He swore you drew on him in cold blood," thundered Gulden. "He +swore it was for nothing--just so you could be alone with that +girl!" + +Kells rose in wonderful calmness, with only his pallor and a slight +shaking of his hands to betray excitement. An uneasy stir and murmur +ran through the room. Red Pearce, nearest at hand, stepped to +Kells's side. All in a moment there was a deadly surcharged +atmosphere there. + +"Well, he swore right! ... Now what's it to you?" + +Apparently the fact and its confession were nothing particular to +Gulden, or else he was deep where all considered him only dense and +shallow. + +"It's done. Bill's dead," continued Gulden. "But why do you double- +cross the gang? What's the game? You never did it before. ... That +girl isn't your--" + +"Shut up!" hissed Kells. Like a flash his hand flew out with his +gun, and all about him was dark menace. + +Gulden made no attempt to draw. He did not show surprise nor fear +nor any emotion. He appeared plodding in mind. Red Pearce stepped +between Kells and Gulden. There was a realization in the crowd, loud +breaths, scraping of feet. Gulden turned away. Then Kells resumed +his seat and his pipe as if nothing out of the ordinary had +occurred. + + + + +9 + +Joan turned away from the door in a cold clamp of relief. The shadow +of death hovered over these men. She must fortify herself to live +under that shadow, to be prepared for any sudden violence, to stand +a succession of shocks that inevitably would come. She listened. The +men were talking and laughing now; there came a click of chips, the +spat of a thrown card, the thump of a little sack of gold. Ahead of +her lay the long hours of night in which these men would hold revel. +Only a faint ray of light penetrated her cabin, but it was +sufficient for her to distinguish objects. She set about putting the +poles in place to barricade the opening. When she had finished she +knew she was safe at least from intrusion. Who had constructed that +rude door and for what purpose? Then she yielded to the temptation +to peep once more under the edge of the curtain. + +The room was cloudy and blue with smoke. She saw Jim Cleve at a +table gambling with several ruffians. His back was turned, yet Joan +felt the contrast of his attitude toward the game, compared with +that of the others. They were tense, fierce, and intent upon every +throw of a card. Cleve's very poise of head and movement of arm +betrayed his indifference. One of the gamblers howled his disgust, +slammed down his cards, and got up. + +"He's cleaned out," said one, in devilish glee. + +"Naw, he ain't," voiced another. "He's got two fruit-cans full of +dust. I saw 'em. ... He's just lay down--like a poisoned coyote." + +"Shore I'm glad Cleve's got the luck, fer mebbe he'll give my gold +back," spoke up another gamester, with a laugh. + +"Wal, he certainlee is the chilvalus card sharp," rejoined the last +player. "Jim, was you allus as lucky in love as in cards?" + +"Lucky in love? ... Sure!" answered Jim Cleve, with a mocking, +reckless ring in his voice. + +"Funny, ain't thet, boys? Now there's the boss. Kells can sure win +the gurls, but he's a pore gambler." Kells heard this speech, and he +laughed with the others. "Hey, you greaser, you never won any of my +money," he said. + +"Come an' set in, boss. Come an' see your gold fade away. You can't +stop this Jim Cleve. Luck--bull luck straddles his neck. He'll win +your gold--your hosses an' saddles an' spurs an' guns--an' your +shirt, if you've nerve enough to bet it." + +The speaker slapped his cards upon the table while he gazed at Cleve +in grieved admiration. Kells walked over to the group and he put his +hand on Cleve's shoulder. + +"Say youngster," he said, genially, "you said you were just as lucky +in love. ... Now I had a hunch some BAD luck with a girl drove you +out here to the border." + +Kells spoke jestingly, in a way that could give no offense, even to +the wildest of boys, yet there was curiosity, keenness, penetration, +in his speech. It had not the slightest effect upon Jim Cleve. + +"Bad luck and a girl? ... To hell with both!" he said. + +"Shore you're talkin' religion. Thet's where both luck an' gurls +come from," replied the unlucky gamester. "Will one of you hawgs +pass the whiskey?" + +The increased interest with which Kells looked down upon Jim Cleve +was not lost upon Joan. But she had seen enough, and, turning away, +she stumbled to the bed and lay there with an ache in her heart. + +"Oh," she whispered to herself, "he is ruined--ruined--ruined! ... +God forgive me!" She saw bright, cold stars shining between the +logs. The night wind swept in cold and pure, with the dew of the +mountain in it. She heard the mourn of wolves, the hoot of an owl, +the distant cry of a panther, weird and wild. Yet outside there was +a thick and lonely silence. In that other cabin, from which she was +mercifully shut out, there were different sounds, hideous by +contrast. By and by she covered her ears, and at length, weary from +thought and sorrow, she drifted into slumber. + +Next morning, long after she had awakened, the cabin remained quiet, +with no one stirring. Morning had half gone before Wood knocked and +gave her a bucket of water, a basin and towels. Later he came with +her breakfast. After that she had nothing to do but pace the floor +of her two rooms. One appeared to be only an empty shed, long in +disuse. Her view from both rooms was restricted to the green slope +of the gulch up to yellow crags and the sky. But she would rather +have had this to watch than an outlook upon the cabins and the +doings of these bandits. + +About noon she heard the voice of Kells in low and earnest +conversation with someone; she could not, however, understand what +was said. That ceased, and then she heard Kells moving around. There +came a clatter of hoofs as a horse galloped away from the cabin, +after which a knock sounded on the wall. + +"Joan," called Kells. Then the curtain was swept aside and Kells, +appearing pale and troubled, stepped into her room. + +"What's the matter?" asked Joan, hurriedly. + +"Gulden shot two men this morning. One's dead. The other's in bad +shape, so Red tells me. I haven't seen him." + +"Who--who are they?" faltered Joan. She could not think of any man +except Jim Cleve. + +"Dan Small's the one's dead. The other they call Dick. Never heard +his last name." + +"Was it a fight?" + +"Of course. And Gulden picked it. He's a quarrelsome man. Nobody can +go against him. He's all the time like some men when they're drunk. +I'm sorry I didn't bore him last night. I would have done it if it +hadn't been for Red Pearce." + +Kells seemed gloomy and concentrated on his situation and he talked +naturally to Joan, as if she were one to sympathize. A bandit, then, +in the details of his life, the schemes, troubles, friendships, +relations, was no different from any other kind of a man. He was +human, and things that might constitute black evil for observers +were dear to him, a part of him. Joan feigned the sympathy she could +not feel. + +"I thought Gulden was your enemy." + +Kells sat down on one of the box seats, and his heavy gun-sheath +rested upon the floor. He looked at Joan now, forgetting she was a +woman and his prisoner. + +"I never thought of that till now," he said. "We always got along +because I understood him. I managed him. The man hasn't changed in +the least. He's always what he is. But there's a difference. I +noticed that first over in Lost Canon. And Joan, I believe it's +because Gulden saw you." + +"Oh, no!" cried Joan, trembling. + +"Maybe I'm wrong. Anyway something's wrong. Gulden never had a +friend or a partner. I don't misunderstand his position regarding +Bailey. What did he care for that soak? Gulden's cross-grained. He +opposes anything or anybody. He's got a twist in his mind that makes +him dangerous. ... I wanted to get rid of him. I decided to--after +last night. But now it seems that's no easy job." + +"Why?" asked Joan, curiously. + +"Pearce and Wood and Beard, all men I rely on, said it won't do. +They hint Gulden is strong with my gang here, and all through the +border. I was wild. I don't believe it. But as I'm not sure--what +can I do? ... They're all afraid of Gulden. That's it. ... And I +believe I am, too." + +"You!" exclaimed Joan. + +Kells actually looked ashamed. "I believe I am, Joan," he replied. +"That Gulden is not a man. I never was afraid of a real man. He's-- +he's an animal." + +"He made me think of a gorrilla," said Joan. + +"There's only one man I know who's not afraid of Gulden. He's a new- +comer here on the border. Jim Cleve he calls himself. A youngster I +can't figure! But he'd slap the devil himself in the face. Cleve +won't last long out here. Yet you can never tell. Men like him, who +laugh at death, sometimes avert it for long. I was that way once. ... +Cleve heard me talking to Pearce about Gulden. And he said, +'Kells, I'll pick a fight with this Gulden and drive him out of the +camp or kill him.'" + +"What did you say?" queried Joan, trying to steady her voice as she +averted her eyes. + +"I said 'Jim, that wins me. But I don't want you killed.' ... It +certainly was nervy of the youngster. Said it just the same as--as +he'd offer to cinch my saddle. Gulden can whip a roomful of men. +He's done it. And as for a killer--I've heard of no man with his +record." + +"And that's why you fear him?" + +"It's not," replied Kells, passionately, as if his manhood had been +affronted. "It's because he's Gulden. There's something uncanny +about him. ... Gulden's a cannibal!" + +Joan looked as if she had not heard aright. + +"It's a cold fact. Known all over the border. Gulden's no braggart. +But he's been known to talk. He was a sailor--a pirate. Once he was +shipwrecked. Starvation forced him to be a cannibal. He told this in +California, and in Nevada camps. But no one believed him. A few +years ago he got snowed-up in the mountains back of Lewiston. He had +two companions with him. They all began to starve. It was absolutely +necessary to try to get out. They started out in the snow. Travel +was desperately hard. Gulden told that his companions dropped. But +he murdered them--and again saved his life by being a cannibal. +After this became known his sailor yarns were no longer doubted. ... +There's another story about him. Once he got hold of a girl and took +her into the mountains. After a winter he returned alone. He told +that he'd kept her tied in a cave, without any clothes, and she +froze to death." + +"Oh, horrible!" moaned Joan. + +"I don't know how true it is. But I believe it. Gulden is not a man. +The worst of us have a conscience. We can tell right from wrong. But +Gulden can't. He's beneath morals. He has no conception of manhood, +such as I've seen in the lowest of outcasts. That cave story with +the girl--that betrays him. He belongs back in the Stone Age. He's a +thing. ... And here on the border, if he wants, he can have all the +more power because of what he is." + +"Kells, don't let him see me!" entreated Joan. + +The bandit appeared not to catch the fear in Joan's tone and look. +She had been only a listener. Presently with preoccupied and gloomy +mien, he left her alone. + +Joan did not see him again, except for glimpses under the curtain, +for three days. She kept the door barred and saw no one except Bate +Wood, who brought her meals. She paced her cabin like a caged +creature. During this period few men visited Kells's cabin, and +these few did not remain long. Joan was aware that Kells was not +always at home. Evidently he was able to go out. Upon the fourth day +he called to her and knocked for admittance. Joan let him in, and +saw that he was now almost well again, once more cool, easy, +cheerful, with his strange, forceful air. + +"Good day, Joan. You don't seem to be pining for your--negligent +husband." + +He laughed as if he mocked himself, but there was gladness in the +very sight of her, and some indefinable tone in his voice that +suggested respect. + +"I didn't miss you," replied Joan. Yet it was a relief to see him. + +"No, I imagine not," he said, dryly. "Well, I've been busy with men +--with plans. Things are working out to my satisfaction. Red Pearce +got around Gulden. There's been no split. Besides, Gulden rode off. +Someone said he went after a little girl named Brander. I hope he +gets shot. ... Joan, we'll be leaving Cabin Gulch soon. I'm +expecting news that'll change things. I won't leave you here. You'll +have to ride the roughest trails. And your clothes are in tatters +now. You've got to have something to wear." + +"I should think so," replied Joan, fingering the thin, worn, ragged +habit that had gone to pieces. "The first brush I ride through will +tear this off." + +"That's annoying," said Kells, with exasperation at himself. "Where +on earth can I get you a dress? We're two hundred miles from +everywhere. The wildest kind of country. ... Say, did you ever wear +a man's outfit?" + +"Ye-es, when I went prospecting and hunting with my uncle," she +replied, reluctantly. + +Suddenly he had a daring and brilliant smile that changed his face +completely. He rubbed his palms together. He laughed as if at a huge +joke. He cast a measuring glance up and down her slender form. + +"Just wait till I come back," he said. + +He left her and she heard him rummaging around in the pile of +trappings she had noted in a corner of the other cabin. Presently he +returned carrying a bundle. This he unrolled on the bed and spread +out the articles. + +"Dandy Dale's outfit," he said, with animation. "Dandy was a would- +be knight of the road. He dressed the part. But he tried to hold up +a stage over here and an unappreciative passenger shot him. He +wasn't killed outright. He crawled away and died. Some of my men +found him and they fetched his clothes. That outfit cost a fortune. +But not a man among us could get into it." + +There was a black sombrero with heavy silver band; a dark-blue +blouse and an embroidered buckskin vest; a belt full of cartridges +and a pearl-handled gun; trousers of corduroy; high-top leather +boots and gold mounted spurs, all of the finest material and +workmanship. + +"Joan, I'll make you a black mask out of the rim of a felt hat, and +then you'll be grand." He spoke with the impulse and enthusiasm of a +boy. + +"Kells, you don't mean me to wear these?" asked Joan, incredulously. + +"Certainly. Why not? Just the thing. A little fancy, but then you're +a girl. We can't hide that. I don't want to hide it." + +"I won't wear them," declared Joan. + +"Excuse me--but you will," he replied, coolly and pleasantly. + +"I won't!" cried Joan. She could not keep cool. + +"Joan, you've got to take long rides with me. At night sometimes. +Wild rides to elude pursuers sometimes. You'll go into camps with +me. You'll have to wear strong, easy, free clothes. You'll have to +be masked. Here the outfit is--as if made for you. Why, you're dead +lucky. For this stuff is good and strong. It'll stand the wear, yet +it's fit for a girl. ... You put the outfit on, right now." + +"I said I wouldn't!" Joan snapped. + +"But what do you care if it belonged to a fellow who's dead? ... +There! See that hole in the shirt. That's a bullet-hole. Don't be +squeamish. It'll only make your part harder." + +"Mr. Kells, you seem to have forgotten entirely that I'm a--a girl." + +He looked blank astonishment. "Maybe I have. ... I'll remember. But +you said you'd worn a man's things." + +"I wore my brother's coat and overalls, and was lost in them," +replied Joan. + +His face began to work. Then he laughed uproariously. "I--under-- +stand. This'll fit--you--like a glove. ... Fine! I'm dying to see +you." + +"You never will." + +At that he grew sober and his eyes glinted. "You can't take a little +fun. I'll leave you now for a while. When I come back you'll have +that suit on!" + +There was that in his voice then which she had heard when he ordered +men. + +Joan looked her defiance. + +"If you don't have it on when I come I'll--I'll tear your rags off! ... +I can do that. You're a strong little devil, and maybe I'm not +well enough yet to put this outfit on you. But I can get help. ... +If you anger me I might wait for--Gulden!" + +Joan's legs grew weak under her, so that she had to sink on the bed. +Kells would do absolutely and literally what he threatened. She +understood now the changing secret in his eyes. One moment he was a +certain kind of a man and the very next he was incalculably +different. She instinctively recognized this latter personality as +her enemy. She must use all the strength and wit and cunning and +charm to keep his other personality in the ascendancy, else all was +futile. + +"Since you force me so--then I must," she said. + +Kells left her without another word. + +Joan removed her stained and torn dress and her worn-out boots; then +hurriedly, for fear Kells might return, she put on the dead boy- +bandit's outfit. Dandy Dale assuredly must have been her +counterpart, for his things fitted her perfectly. Joan felt so +strange that she scarcely had courage enough to look into the +mirror. When she did look she gave a start that was of both amaze +and shame. But for her face she never could have recognized herself. +What had become of her height, her slenderness? She looked like an +audacious girl in a dashing boy masquerade. Her shame was singular, +inasmuch as it consisted of a burning hateful consciousness that she +had not been able to repress a thrill of delight at her appearance, +and that this costume strangely magnified every curve and swell of +her body, betraying her feminity as nothing had ever done. + +And just at that moment Kells knocked on the door and called, "Joan, +are you dressed?" + +"Yes," she replied. But the word seemed involuntary. + +Then Kells came in. + +It was an instinctive and frantic impulse that made Joan snatch up a +blanket and half envelop herself in it. She stood with scarlet face +and dilating eyes, trembling in every limb. Kells had entered with +an expectant smile and that mocking light in his gaze. Both faded. +He stared at the blanket--then at her face. Then he seemed to +comprehend this ordeal. And he looked sorry for her. + +"Why you--you little--fool!" he exclaimed, with emotion. And that +emotion seemed to exasperate him. Turning away from her, he gazed +out between the logs. Again, as so many times before, he appeared to +be remembering something that was hard to recall, and vague. + +Joan, agitated as she was, could not help but see the effect of her +unexpected and unconscious girlishness. She comprehended that with +the mind of the woman which had matured in her. Like Kells, she too, +had different personalities. + +"I'm trying to be decent to you," went on Kells, without turning. "I +want to give you a chance to make the best of a bad situation. But +you're a kid--a girl! ... And I'm a bandit. A man lost to all good, +who means to have you!" + +"But you're NOT lost to all good," replied Joan, earnestly. "I can't +understand what I do feel. But I know--if it had been Gulden instead +of you--that I wouldn't have tried to hide my--myself behind this +blanket. I'm no longer--AFRAID of you. That's why I acted--so--just +like a girl caught. ... Oh! can't you see!" + +"No, I can't see," he replied. "I wish I hadn't fetched you here. I +wish the thing hadn't happened. Now it's too late." + +"It's never too late. ... You--you haven't harmed me yet." + +"But I love you," he burst out. "Not like I have. Oh! I see this-- +that I never really loved any woman before. Something's gripped me. +It feels like that rope at my throat--when they were going to hang +me." + +Then Joan trembled in the realization that a tremendous passion had +seized upon this strange, strong man. In the face of it she did not +know how to answer him. Yet somehow she gathered courage in the +knowledge. + +Kells stood silent a long moment, looking out at the green slope. +And then, as if speaking to himself, he said: "I stacked the deck +and dealt myself a hand--a losing hand--and now I've got to play +it!" + +With that he turned to Joan. It was the piercing gaze he bent upon +her that hastened her decision to resume the part she had to play. +And she dropped the blanket. Kells's gloom and that iron hardness +vanished. He smiled as she had never seen him smile. In that and his +speechless delight she read his estimate of her appearance; and, +notwithstanding the unwomanliness of her costume, and the fact of +his notorious character, she knew she had never received so great a +compliment. Finally he found his voice. + +"Joan, if you're not the prettiest thing I ever saw in my life!" + +"I can't get used to this outfit," said Joan. "I can't--I won't go +away from this room in it." + +"Sure you will. See here, this'll make a difference, maybe. You're +so shy." + +He held out a wide piece of black felt that evidently he had cut +from a sombrero. This he measured over her forehead and eyes, and +then taking his knife he cut it to a desired shape. Next he cut +eyeholes in it and fastened to it a loop made of a short strip of +buckskin. + +"Try that. ... Pull it down--even with your eyes. There!--take a +look at yourself." + +Joan faced the mirror and saw merely a masked stranger. She was no +longer Joan Randle. Her identity had been absolutely lost. + +"No one--who ever knew me--could recognize me now," she murmured, +and the relieving thought centered round Jim Cleve. + +"I hadn't figured on that," replied Kells. "But you're right. ... +Joan, if I don't miss my guess, it won't be long till you'll be the +talk of mining-towns and camp-fires." + +This remark of Kells's brought to Joan proof of his singular pride +in the name he bore, and proof of many strange stories about bandits +and wild women of the border. She had never believed any of these +stories. They had seemed merely a part of the life of this unsettled +wild country. A prospector would spend a night at a camp-fire and +tell a weird story and pass on, never to be seen there again. Could +there have been a stranger story than her life seemed destined to +be? Her mind whirled with vague, circling thought--Kells and his +gang, the wild trails, the camps, and towns, gold and stage-coaches, +robbery, fights, murder, mad rides in the dark, and back to Jim +Cleve and his ruin. + +Suddenly Kells stepped to her from behind and put his arms around +her. Joan grew stiff. She had been taken off her guard. She was in +his arms and could not face him. + +"Joan, kiss me," he whispered, with a softness, a richer, deeper +note in his voice. + +"No!" cried Joan, violently. + +There was a moment of silence in which she felt his grasp slowly +tighten--the heave of his breast. + +"Then I'll make you," he said. So different was the voice now that +another man might have spoken. Then he bent her backward, and, +freeing one hand, brought it under her chin and tried to lift her +face. + +But Joan broke into fierce, violent resistance. She believed she was +doomed, but that only made her the fiercer, the stronger. And with +her head down, her arms straining, her body hard and rigidly +unyielding she fought him all over the room, knocking over the table +and seats, wrestling from wall to wall, till at last they fell +across the bed and she broke his hold. Then she sprang up, panting, +disheveled, and backed away from him. It had been a sharp, desperate +struggle on her part and she was stronger than he. He was not a well +man. He raised himself and put one hand to his breast. His face was +haggard, wet, working with passion, gray with pain. In the struggle +she had hurt him, perhaps reopened his wound. + +"Did you--knife me--that it hurts so?" he panted, raising a hand +that shook. + +"I had--nothing. ... I just--fought," cried Joan, breathlessly. + +"You hurt me--again--damn you! I'm never free--from pain. But this's +worse. ... And I'm a coward. ... And I'm a dog, too! Not half a +man!--You slip of a girl--and I couldn't--hold you!" + +His pain and shame were dreadful for Joan to see, because she felt +sorry for him, and divined that behind them would rise the darker, +grimmer force of the man. And she was right, for suddenly he +changed. That which had seemed almost to make him abject gave way to +a pale and bitter dignity. He took up Dandy Dale's belt, which Joan +had left on the bed, and, drawing the gun from its sheath, he opened +the cylinder to see if it was loaded, and then threw the gun at +Joan's feet. + +"There! Take it--and make a better job this time," he said. + +The power in his voice seemed to force Joan to pick up the gun. + +"What do--you mean?" she queried, haltingly. + +"Shoot me again! Put me out of my pain--my misery. ... I'm sick of +it all. I'd be glad to have you kill me!" + +"Kells!" exclaimed Joan, weakly. + +"Take your chance--now--when I've no strength--to force you. ... +Throw the gun on me. ... Kill me!" + +He spoke with a terrible impelling earnestness, and the strength of +his will almost hypnotized Joan into execution of his demand. + +"You are mad," she said. "I don't want to kill you. I couldn't. ... +I just want you to--to be--decent to me." + +"I have been--for me. I was only in fun this time--when I grabbed +you. But the FEEL of you! ... I can't be decent any more. I see +things clear now. ... Joan Randle, it's my life or your soul!" + +He rose now, dark, shaken, stripped of all save the truth. + +Joan dropped the gun from nerveless grasp. + +"Is that your choice?" he asked hoarsely. + +"I can't murder you!" + +"Are you afraid of the other men--of Gulden? Is that why you can't +kill me? You're afraid to be left--to try to get away?" + +"I never thought of them." + +"Then--my life or your soul!" + +He stalked toward her, loomed over her, so that she put out +trembling hands. After the struggle a reaction was coming to her. +She was weakening. She had forgotten her plan. + +"If you're merciless--then it must be--my soul," she whispered. "For +I CAN'T murder you. ... Could you take that gun now--and press it +here--and murder ME?" + +"No. For I love you." + +"You don't love me. It's a blacker crime to murder the soul than the +body." + +Something in his strange eyes inspired Joan with a flashing, +reviving divination. Back upon her flooded all that tide of woman's +subtle incalculable power to allure, to charge, to hold. Swiftly she +went close to Kells. She stretched out her hands. One was bleeding +from rough contract with the log wall during the struggle. Her +wrists were red, swollen, bruised from his fierce grasp. + +"Look! See what you've done. You were a beast. You made me fight +like a beast. My hands were claws--my whole body one hard knot of +muscle. You couldn't hold me--you couldn't kiss me. ... Suppose you +ARE able to hold me--later. I'll only be the husk of a woman. I'll +just be a cold shell, doubled-up, unrelaxed, a callous thing never +to yield. ... All that's ME, the girl, the woman you say you love-- +will be inside, shrinking, loathing, hating, sickened to death. You +will only kiss--embrace--a thing you've degraded. The warmth, the +sweetness, the quiver, the thrill, the response, the life--all that +is the soul of a woman and makes her lovable will be murdered." + +Then she drew still closer to Kells, and with all the wondrous +subtlety of a woman in a supreme moment where a life and a soul hang +in the balance, she made of herself an absolute contrast to the +fierce, wild, unyielding creature who had fought him off. + +"Let me show--you the difference," she whispered, leaning to him, +glowing, soft, eager, terrible, with her woman's charm. "Something +tells me--gives me strength. ... What MIGHT be! ... Only barely +possible--if in my awful plight--you turned out to be a man, good +instead of bad! ... And--if it were possible--see the differences-- +in the woman. ... I show you--to save my soul!" + +She gave the fascinated Kells her hands, slipped into his arms, to +press against his breast, and leaned against him an instant, all one +quivering, surrendered body; and then lifting a white face, true in +its radiance to her honest and supreme purpose to give him one +fleeting glimpse of the beauty and tenderness and soul of love, she +put warm and tremulous lips to his. + +Then she fell away from him, shrinking and terrified. But he stood +there as if something beyond belief had happened to him, and the +evil of his face, the hard lines, the brute softened and vanished in +a light of transformation. + +"My God!" he breathed softly. Then he awakened as if from a trance, +and, leaping down the steps, he violently swept aside the curtain +and disappeared. + +Joan threw herself upon the bed and spent the last of her strength +in the relief of blinding tears. She had won. She believed she need +never fear Kells again. In that one moment of abandon she had +exalted him. But at what cost! + + + + +10 + +Next day, when Kells called Joan out into the other cabin, she +verified her hope and belief, not so much in the almost indefinable +aging and sadness of the man, as in the strong intuitive sense that +her attraction had magnified for him and had uplifted him. + +"You mustn't stay shut up in there any longer," he said. "You've +lost weight and you're pale. Go out in the air and sun. You might as +well get used to the gang. Bate Wood came to me this morning and +said he thought you were the ghost of Dandy Dale. That name will +stick to you. I don't care how you treat my men. But if you're +friendly you'll fare better. Don't go far from the cabin. And if any +man says or does a thing you don't like--flash your gun. Don't yell +for me. You can bluff this gang to a standstill." + +That was a trial for Joan, when she walked out into the light in +Dandy Dale's clothes. She did not step very straight, and she could +feel the cold prick of her face under the mask. It was not shame, +but fear that gripped her. She would rather die than have Jim Cleve +recognize her in that bold disguise. A line of dusty saddled horses +stood heads and bridles down before the cabin, and a number of +lounging men ceased talking when she appeared. It was a crowd that +smelled of dust and horses and leather and whisky and tobacco. Joan +did not recognize any one there, which fact aided her in a quick +recovery of her composure. Then she found amusement in the absolute +sensation she made upon these loungers. They stared, open-mouthed +and motionless. One old fellow dropped his pipe from bearded lips +and did not seem to note the loss. A dark young man, dissipated and +wild-looking, with years of lawlessness stamped upon his face, was +the first to move; and he, with awkward gallantry, but with amiable +disposition. Joan wanted to run, yet she forced herself to stand +there, apparently unconcerned before this battery of bold and +curious eyes. That, once done, made the rest easier. She was +grateful for the mask. And with her first low, almost incoherent, +words in reply Joan entered upon the second phase of her experience +with these bandits. Naturalness did not come soon, but it did come, +and with it her wit and courage. + +Used as she had become to the villainous countenances of the border +ruffians, she yet upon closer study discovered wilder and more +abandoned ones. Yet despite that, and a brazen, unconcealed +admiration, there was not lacking kindliness and sympathy and good +nature. Presently Joan sauntered away, and she went among the tired, +shaggy horses and made friends with them. An occasional rider swung +up the trail to dismount before Kells's cabin, and once two riders +rode in, both staring--all eyes--at her. The meaning of her intent +alertness dawned upon her then. Always, whatever she was doing or +thinking or saying, behind it all hid the driving watchfulness for +Jim Cleve. And the consciousness of this fixed her mind upon him. +Where was he? What was he doing? Was he drunk or gambling or +fighting or sleeping? Was he still honest? When she did meet him +what would happen? How could she make herself and circumstances +known to him before he killed somebody? A new fear had birth and +grew--Cleve would recognize her in that disguise, mask and all. + +She walked up and down for a while, absorbed with this new idea. +Then an unusual commotion among the loungers drew her attention to a +group of men on foot surrounding and evidently escorting several +horsemen. Joan recognized Red Pearce and Frenchy, and then, with a +start, Jim Cleve. They were riding up the trail. Joan's heart began +to pound. She could not meet Jim; she dared not trust this disguise; +all her plans were as if they had never been. She forgot Kells. She +even forgot her fear of what Cleve might do. The meeting--the +inevitable recognition--the pain Jim Cleve must suffer when the fact +and apparent significance of her presence there burst upon him, +these drove all else from Joan's mind. Mask or no mask, she could +not face his piercing eyes, and like a little coward she turned to +enter the cabin. + +Before she got in, however, it was forced upon her that something +unusual had roused the loungers. They had arisen and were interested +in the approaching group. Loud talk dinned in Joan's ears. Then she +went in the door as Kells stalked by, eyes agleam, without even +noticing her. Once inside her cabin, with the curtain drawn, Joan's +fear gave place to anxiety and curiosity. + +There was no one in the large cabin. Through the outer door she +caught sight of a part of the crowd, close together, heads up, all +noisy. Then she heard Kells's authoritative voice, but she could +understand nothing. The babel of hoarse voices grew louder. Kells +appeared, entering the door with Pearce. Jim Cleve came next, and, +once the three were inside, the crowd spilled itself after them like +angry bees. Kells was talking, Pearce was talking, but their voices +were lost. Suddenly Kells vented his temper. + +"Shut up--the lot of you!" he yelled, and his power and position +might have been measured by the menace he showed. + +The gang became suddenly quiet. + +"Now--what's up?" demanded Kells. + +"Keep your shirt on, boss," replied Pearce, with good humor. "There +ain't much wrong. ... Cleve, here, throwed a gun on Gulden, that's +all." + +Kells gave a slight start, barely perceptible, but the intensity of +it, and a fleeting tigerish gleam across his face, impressed Joan +with the idea that he felt a fiendish joy. Her own heart clamped in +a cold amaze. + +"Gulden!" Kells's exclamation was likewise a passionate query. + +"No, he ain't cashed," replied Pearce. "You can't kill that bull so +easy. But he's shot up some. He's layin' over at Beard's. Reckon +you'd better go over an' dress them shots." + +"He can rot before I doctor him," replied Kells. "Where's Bate Wood? ... +Bate, you can take my kit and go fix Gulden up. And now, Red, +what was all the roar about?" + +"Reckon that was Gulden's particular pards tryin' to mix it with +Cleve an' Cleve tryin' to mix it with them--an' ME in between! ... +I'm here to say, boss, that I had a time stavin' off a scrap." + +During this rapid exchange between Kells and his lieutenant, Jim +Cleve sat on the edge of the table, one dusty boot swinging so that +his spur jangled, a wisp of a cigarette in his lips. His face was +white except where there seemed to be bruises under his eyes. Joan +had never seen him look like this. She guessed that he had been +drunk--perhaps was still drunk. That utterly abandoned face Joan was +so keen to read made her bite her tongue to keep from crying out. +Yes, Jim was lost. + +"What'd they fight about?" queried Kells. + +"Ask Cleve," replied Pearce. "Reckon I'd just as lief not talk any +more about him." + +Then Kells turned to Cleve and stepped before him. Somehow these two +men face to face thrilled Joan to her depths. They presented such +contrasts. Kells was keen, imperious, vital, strong, and complex, +with an unmistakable friendly regard for this young outcast. Cleve +seemed aloof, detached, indifferent to everything, with a white, +weary, reckless scorn. Both men were far above the gaping ruffians +around them. + +"Cleve, why'd you draw on Gulden?" asked Kells, sharply. + +"That's my business," replied Cleve, slowly, and with his piercing +eyes on Kells he blew a long, thin, blue stream of smoke upward. + +"Sure. ... But I remember what you asked me the other day--about +Gulden. Was that why?" + +"Nope," replied Cleve. "This was my affair." + +"All right. But I'd like to know. Pearce says you're in bad with +Gulden's friends. If I can't make peace between you I'll have to +take sides." + +"Kells, I don't need any one on my side," said Cleve, and he flung +the cigarette away. + +"Yes, you do," replied Kells, persuasively. "Every man on this +border needs that. And he's lucky when he gets it." + +"Well, I don't ask for it; I don't want it." + +"That's your own business, too. I'm not insisting or advising." + +Kells's force and ability to control men manifested itself in his +speech and attitude. Nothing could have been easier than to rouse +the antagonism of Jim Cleve, abnormally responding as he was to the +wild conditions of this border environment. + +"Then you're not calling my hand?" queried Cleve, with his dark, +piercing glance on Kells. + +"I pass, Jim," replied the bandit, easily. + +Cleve began to roll another cigarette. Joan saw his strong, brown +hands tremble, and she realized that this came from his nervous +condition, not from agitation. Her heart ached for him. What a +white, somber face, so terribly expressive of the overthrow of his +soul! He had fled to the border in reckless fury at her--at himself. +There in its wildness he had, perhaps, lost thought of himself and +memory of her. He had plunged into the unrestrained border life. Its +changing, raw, and fateful excitement might have made him forget, +but behind all was the terrible seeking to destroy and be destroyed. +Joan shuddered when she remembered how she had mocked this boy's +wounded vanity--how scathingly she had said he did not possess +manhood and nerve enough even to be bad. + +"See here, Red," said Kells to Pearce, "tell me what happened--what +you saw. Jim can't object to that." + +"Sure," replied Pearce, thus admonished. "We was all over at Beard's +an' several games was on. Gulden rode into camp last night. He's +always sore, but last night it seemed more'n usual. But he didn't +say much an' nothin' happened. We all reckoned his trip fell +through. Today he was restless. He walked an' walked just like a +cougar in a pen. You know how Gulden has to be on the move. Well, we +let him alone, you can bet. But suddenlike he comes up to our table +--me an' Cleve an' Beard an' Texas was playin' cards--an' he nearly +kicks the table over. I grabbed the gold an' Cleve he saved the +whisky. We'd been drinkin' an' Cleve most of all. Beard was white at +the gills with rage an' Texas was soffocatin'. But we all was afraid +of Gulden, except Cleve, as it turned out. But he didn't move or +look mean. An' Gulden pounded on the table an' addressed himself to +Cleve. + +"'I've a job you'll like. Come on.' + +"'Job? Say, man, you couldn't have a job I'd like,' replied Cleve, +slow an' cool. + +"You know how Gulden gets when them spells come over him. It's just +plain cussedness. I've seen gunfighters lookin' for trouble--for +someone to kill. But Gulden was worse than that. You all take my +hunch--he's got a screw loose in his nut. + +"'Cleve,' he said, 'I located the Brander gold-diggin's--an' the +girl was there.' + +"Some kind of a white flash went over Cleve. An' we all, rememberin' +Luce, began to bend low, ready to duck. Gulden didn't look no +different from usual. You can't see any change in him. But I for one +felt all hell burnin' in him. + +"'Oho! You have,' said Cleve, quick, like he was pleased. 'An' did +you get her?' + +"'Not yet. Just looked over the ground. I'm pickin' you to go with +me. We'll split on the gold, an' I'll take the girl.' + +"Cleve swung the whisky-bottle an' it smashed on Gulden's mug, +knockin' him flat. Cleve was up, like a cat, gun burnin' red. The +other fellers were dodgin' low. An' as I ducked I seen Gulden, flat +on his back, draggin' at his gun. He stopped short an' his hand +flopped. The side of his face went all bloody. I made sure he'd +cashed, so I leaped up an' grabbed Cleve. + +"It'd been all right if Gulden had only cashed. But he hadn't. He +came to an' bellered fer his gun an' fer his pards. Why, you could +have heard him for a mile. ... Then, as I told you, I had trouble in +holdin' back a general mix-up. An' while he was hollerin' about it I +led them all over to you. Gulden is layin' back there with his ear +shot off. An' that's all." + +Kells, with thoughtful mien, turned from Pearce to the group of +dark-faced men. "This fight settles one thing," he said to them. +"We've got to have organization. If you're not all a lot of fools +you'll see that. You need a head. Most of you swear by me, but some +of you are for Gulden. Just because he's a bloody devil. These times +are the wildest the West ever knew, and they're growing wilder. +Gulden is a great machine for execution. He has no sense of fear. +He's a giant. He loves to fight--to kill. But Gulden's all but +crazy. This last deal proves that. I leave it to your common sense. +He rides around hunting for some lone camp to rob. Or some girl to +make off with. He does not plan with me or the men whose judgment I +have confidence in. He's always without gold. And so are most of his +followers. I don't know who they are. And I don't care. But here we +split--unless they and Gulden take advice and orders from me. I'm +not so much siding with Cleve. Any of you ought to admit that +Gulden's kind of work will disorganize a gang. He's been with us for +long. And he approaches Cleve with a job. Cleve is a stranger. He +may belong here, but he's not yet one of us. Gulden oughtn't have +approached him. It was no straight deal. We can't figure what Gulden +meant exactly, but it isn't likely he wanted Cleve to go. It was a +bluff. He got called. ... You men think this over--whether you'll +stick to Gulden or to me. Clear out now." + +His strong, direct talk evidently impressed them, and in silence +they crowded out of the cabin, leaving Pearce and Cleve behind. + +"Jim, are you just hell-bent on fighting or do you mean to make +yourself the champion of every poor girl in these wilds?" + +Cleve puffed a cloud of smoke that enveloped his head "I don't pick +quarrels," he replied. + +"Then you get red-headed at the very mention of a girl." + +A savage gesture of Cleve's suggested that Kells was right. + +"Here, don't get red-headed at me," called Kells, with piercing +sharpness. "I'll be your friend if you let me. ... But declare +yourself like a man--if you want me for a friend!" + +"Kells, I'm much obliged," replied Cleve, with a semblance of +earnestness. "I'm no good or I wouldn't be out here ... But I can't +stand for these--these deals with girls." + +"You'll change," rejoined Kells, bitterly. "Wait till you live a few +lonely years out here! You don't understand the border. You're +young. I've seen the gold-fields of California and Nevada. Men go +crazy with the gold fever. It's gold that makes men wild. If you +don't get killed you'll change. If you live you'll see life on this +border. War debases the moral force of a man, but nothing like what +you'll experience here the next few years. Men with their wives and +daughters are pouring into this range. They're all over. They're +finding gold. They've tasted blood. Wait till the great gold strike +comes! Then you'll see men and women go back ten thousand years ... +And then what'll one girl more or less matter?" + +"Well, you see, Kells, I was loved so devotedly by one and made such +a hero of--that I just can't bear to see any girl mistreated." + +He almost drawled the words, and he was suave and cool, and his face +was inscrutable, but a bitterness in his tone gave the lie to all he +said and looked. + +Pearce caught the broader inference and laughed as if at a great +joke. Kells shook his head doubtfully, as if Cleve's transparent +speech only added to the complexity. And Cleve turned away, as if in +an instant he had forgotten his comrades. + +Afterward, in the silence and darkness of night, Joan Randle lay +upon her bed sleepless, haunted by Jim's white face, amazed at the +magnificent madness of him, thrilled to her soul by the meaning of +his attack on Gulden, and tortured by a love that had grown +immeasurably full of the strength of these hours of suspense and the +passion of this wild border. + +Even in her dreams Joan seemed to be bending all her will toward +that inevitable and fateful moment when she must stand before Jim +Cleve. It had to be. Therefore she would absolutely compel herself +to meet it, regardless of the tumult that must rise within her. When +all had been said, her experience so far among the bandits, in spite +of the shocks and suspense that had made her a different girl, had +been infinitely more fortunate than might have been expected. She +prayed for this luck to continue and forced herself into a belief +that it would. + +That night she had slept in Dandy Dale's clothes, except for the +boots; and sometimes while turning in restless slumber she had been +awakened by rolling on the heavy gun, which she had not removed from +the belt. And at such moments, she had to ponder in the darkness, to +realize that she, Joan Randle, lay a captive in a bandit's camp, +dressed in a dead bandit's garb, and packing his gun--even while she +slept. It was such an improbable, impossible thing. Yet the cold +feel of the polished gun sent a thrill of certainty through her. + +In the morning she at least did not have to suffer the shame of +getting into Dandy Dale's clothes, for she was already in them. She +found a grain of comfort even in that. When she had put on the mask +and sombrero she studied the effect in her little mirror. And she +again decided that no one, not even Jim Cleve, could recognize her +in that disguise. Likewise she gathered courage from the fact that +even her best girl friend would have found her figure unfamiliar and +striking where once it had been merely tall and slender and strong, +ordinarily dressed. Then how would Jim Cleve ever recognize her? She +remembered her voice that had been called a contralto, low and deep; +and how she used to sing the simple songs she knew. She could not +disguise that voice. But she need not let Jim hear it. Then there +was a return of the idea that he would instinctively recognize her-- +that no disguise could be proof to a lover who had ruined himself +for her. Suddenly she realized how futile all her worry and shame. +Sooner or later she must reveal her identity to Jim Cleve. Out of +all this complexity of emotion Joan divined that what she yearned +most for was to spare Cleve the shame consequent upon recognition of +her and then the agony he must suffer at a false conception of her +presence there. It was a weakness in her. When death menaced her +lover and the most inconceivably horrible situation yawned for her, +still she could only think of her passionate yearning to have him +know, all in a flash, that she loved him, that she had followed him +in remorse, that she was true to him and would die before being +anything else. + +And when she left her cabin she was in a mood to force an issue. + +Kells was sitting at the table and being served by Bate Wood. + +"Hello, Dandy!" he greeted her, in surprise and pleasure. "This's +early for you." + +Joan returned his greeting and said that she could not sleep all the +time. + +"You're coming round. I'll bet you hold up a stage before a month is +out." + +"Hold up a stage?" echoed Joan. + +"Sure. It'll be great fun," replied Kells, with a laugh. "Here--sit +down and eat with me. ... Bate, come along lively with breakfast. ... +It's fine to see you there. That mask changes you, though. No +one can see how pretty you are. ... Joan, your admirer, Gulden, has +been incapacitated for the present." + +Then in evident satisfaction Kells repeated the story that Joan had +heard Red Pearce tell the night before; and in the telling Kells +enlarged somewhat upon Jim Cleve. + +"I've taken a liking to Cleve," said Kells. "He's a strange +youngster. But he's more man than boy. I think he's broken-hearted +over some rotten girl who's been faithless or something. Most women +are no good, Joan. A while ago I'd have said ALL women were that, +but since I've known you I think--I know different. Still, one girl +out of a million doesn't change a world." + +"What will this J--jim C--cleve do--when he sees--me?" asked Joan, +and she choked over the name. + +"Don't eat so fast, girl," said Kells. "You're only seventeen years +old and you've plenty of time. ... Well, I've thought some about +Cleve. He's not crazy like Gulden, but he's just as dangerous. He's +dangerous because he doesn't know what he's doing--has absolutely no +fear of death--and then he's swift with a gun. That's a bad +combination. Cleve will kill a man presently. He's shot three +already, and in Gulden's case he meant to kill. If once he kills a +man--that'll make him a gun-fighter. I've worried a little about his +seeing you. But I can manage him, I guess. He can't be scared or +driven. But he may be led. I've had Red Pearce tell him you are my +wife. I hope he believes it, for none of the other fellows believe +it. Anyway, you'll meet this Cleve soon, maybe to-day, and I want +you to be friendly. If I can steady him--stop his drinking--he'll be +the best man for me on this border." + +"I'm to help persuade him to join your band?" asked Joan, and she +could not yet control her voice. + +"Is that so black a thing?" queried Kells, evidently nettled, and he +glared at her. + +"I--I don't know," faltered Joan. "Is this--this boy a criminal +yet?" + +"No. He's only a fine, decent young chap gone wild--gone bad for +some girl. I told you that. You don't seem to grasp the point. If I +can control him he'll be of value to me--he'll be a bold and clever +and dangerous man--he'll last out here. If I can't win him, why, he +won't last a week longer. He'll be shot or knifed in a brawl. +Without my control Cleve'll go straight to the hell he's headed +for." + +Joan pushed back her plate and, looking up, steadily eyed the +bandit. + +"Kells, I'd rather he ended his--his career quick--and went to--to-- +than live to be a bandit and murderer at your command." + +Kells laughed mockingly, yet the savage action with which he threw +his cup against the wall attested to the fact that Joan had strange +power to hurt him. + +"That's your sympathy, because I told you some girl drove him out +here," said the bandit. "He's done for. You'll know that the moment +you see him. I really think he or any man out here would be the +better for my interest. Now, I want to know if you'll stand by me-- +put in a word to help influence this wild boy." + +"I'll--I'll have to see him first," replied Joan. + +"Well, you take it sort of hard," growled Kells. Then presently he +brightened. "I seem always to forget that you're only a kid. Listen! +Now you do as you like. But I want to warn you that you've got to +get back the same kind of nerve"--here he lowered his voice and +glanced at Bate Wood--"that you showed when you shot me. You're +going to see some sights. ... A great gold strike! Men grown gold- +mad! Woman of no more account than a puff of cottonseed! ... Hunger, +toil, pain, disease, starvation, robbery, blood, murder, hanging, +death--all nothing, nothing! There will be only gold. Sleepless +nights--days of hell--rush and rush--all strangers with greedy eyes! +The things that made life will be forgotten and life itself will be +cheap. There will be only that yellow stuff--gold--over which men go +mad and women sell their souls!" + +After breakfast Kells had Joan's horse brought out of the corral and +saddled. + +"You must ride some every day. You must keep in condition," he said. +"Pretty soon we may have a chase, and I don't want it to tear you to +pieces." + +"Where shall I ride?" asked Joan. + +"Anywhere you like up and down the gulch." + +"Are you going to have me watched?" + +"Not if you say you won't run off." + +"You trust me?" + +"Yes." + +"All right. I promise. And if I change my mind I'll tell you." + +"Lord! don't do it, Joan. I--I--Well, you've come to mean a good +deal to me. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." As she mounted +the horse Kells added, "Don't stand any raw talk from any of the +gang." + +Joan rode away, pondering in mind the strange fact that though she +hated this bandit, yet she had softened toward him. His eyes lit +when he saw her; his voice mellowed; his manner changed. He had +meant to tell her again that he loved her, yet he controlled it. Was +he ashamed? Had he seen into the depths of himself and despised what +he had imagined love? There were antagonistic forces at war within +him. + +It was early morning and a rosy light tinged the fresh green. She +let the eager horse break into a canter and then a gallop; and she +rode up the gulch till the trail started into rough ground. Then +turning, she went back, down under the pines and by the cabins, to +where the gulch narrowed its outlet into the wide valley. Here she +met several dusty horsemen driving a pack-train. One, a jovial +ruffian, threw up his hands in mock surrender. + +"Hands up, pards!" he exclaimed. "Reckon we've run agin' Dandy Dale +come to life." + +His companions made haste to comply and then the three regarded her +with bold and roguish eyes. Joan had run square into them round a +corner of slope and, as there was no room to pass, she had halted. + +"Shore it's the Dandy Dale we heerd of," vouchsafed another. + +"Thet's Dandy's outfit with a girl inside," added the third. + +Joan wheeled her horse and rode back up the trail. The glances of +these ruffians seemed to scorch her with the reality of her +appearance. She wore a disguise, but her womanhood was more manifest +in it than in her feminine garb. It attracted the bold glances of +these men. If there were any possible decency among them, this +outrageous bandit costume rendered it null. How could she ever +continue to wear it? Would not something good and sacred within her +be sullied by a constant exposure to the effect she had upon these +vile border men? She did not think it could while she loved Jim +Cleve; and with thought of him came a mighty throb of her heart to +assure her that nothing mattered if only she could save him. + +Upon the return trip up the gulch Joan found men in sight leading +horses, chopping wood, stretching arms in cabin doors. Joan avoided +riding near them, yet even at a distance she was aware of their +gaze. One rowdy, half hidden by a window, curved hands round his +mouth and called, softly, "Hullo, sweetheart!" + +Joan was ashamed that she could feel insulted. She was amazed at the +temper which seemed roused in her. This border had caused her +feelings she had never dreamed possible to her. Avoiding the trail, +she headed for the other side of the gulch. There were clumps of +willows along the brook through which she threaded a way, looking +for a good place to cross. The horse snorted for water. Apparently +she was not going to find any better crossing, so she turned the +horse into a narrow lane through the willows and, dismounting on a +mossy bank, she slipped the bridle so the horse could drink. + +Suddenly she became aware that she was not alone. But she saw no one +in front of her or on the other side of her horse. Then she turned. +Jim Cleve was in the act of rising from his knees. He had a towel in +his hand. His face was wet. He stood no more than ten steps from +her. + +Joan could not have repressed a little cry to save her life. The +surprise was tremendous. She could not move a finger. She expected +to hear him call her name. + +Cleve stared at her. His face, in the morning light, was as drawn +and white as that of a corpse. Only his eyes seemed alive and they +were flames. A lightning flash of scorn leaped to them. He only +recognized in her a woman, and his scorn was for the creature that +bandit garb proclaimed her to be. A sad and bitter smile crossed his +face; and then it was followed by an expression that was a lash upon +Joan's bleeding spirit. He looked at her shapely person with +something of the brazen and evil glance that had been so revolting +to her in the eyes of those ruffians. That was the unexpected--the +impossible--in connection with Jim Cleve. How could she stand there +under it--and live? + +She jerked at the bridle, and, wading blindly across the brook, she +mounted somehow, and rode with blurred sight back to the cabin. +Kells appeared busy with men outside and did not accost her. She +fled to her cabin and barricaded the door. + +Then she hid her face on her bed, covered herself to shut out the +light, and lay there, broken-hearted. What had been that other thing +she had imagined was shame--that shrinking and burning she had +suffered through Kells and his men? What was that compared to this +awful thing? A brand of red-hot pitch, blacker and bitterer than +death, had been struck brutally across her soul. By the man she +loved--whom she would have died to save! Jim Cleve had seen in her +only an abandoned creature of the camps. His sad and bitter smile +had been for the thought that he could have loved anything of her +sex. His scorn had been for the betrayed youth and womanhood +suggested by her appearance. And then the thing that struck into +Joan's heart was the fact that her grace and charm of person, +revealed by this costume forced upon her, had aroused Jim Cleve's +first response to the evil surrounding him, the first call to that +baseness he must be assimilating from these border ruffians. That he +could look at her so! The girl he had loved! Joan's agony lay not in +the circumstance of his being as mistaken in her character as he had +been in her identity, but that she, of all women, had to be the one +who made him answer, like Kells and Gulden and all those ruffians, +to the instincts of a beast. + +"Oh, he'd been drunk--he was drunk!" whispered Joan. "He isn't to be +blamed. He's not my old Jim. He's suffering--he's changed--he +doesn't care. What could I expect--standing there like a hussy +before him--in this--this indecent rig? ... I must see him. I must +tell him. If he recognized me now--and I had no chance to tell him +why I'm here--why I look like this--that I love him--am still good-- +and true to him--if I couldn't tell him I'd--I'd shoot myself!" + +Joan sobbed out the final words and then broke down. And when the +spell had exercised its sway, leaving her limp and shaken and weak, +she was the better for it. Slowly calmness returned so that she +could look at her wild and furious rush from the spot where she had +faced Jim Cleve, at the storm of shame ending in her collapse. She +realized that if she had met Jim Cleve here in the dress in which +she had left home there would have been the same shock of surprise +and fear and love. She owed part of that breakdown to the suspense +she had been under and then the suddenness of the meeting. Looking +back at her agitation, she felt that it had been natural--that if +she could only tell the truth to Jim Cleve the situation was not +impossible. But the meeting, and all following it, bore tremendous +revelation of how through all this wild experience she had learned +to love Jim Cleve. But for his reckless flight and her blind +pursuit, and then the anxiety, fear, pain, toil, and despair, she +would never have known her woman's heart and its capacity for love. + + + + +11 + +Following that meeting, with all its power to change and strengthen +Joan, there were uneventful days in which she rode the gulch trails +and grew able to stand the jests and glances of the bandit's gang. +She thought she saw and heard everything, yet insulated her true +self in a callous and unreceptive aloofness from all that affronted +her. + +The days were uneventful because, while always looking for Jim +Cleve, she never once saw him. Several times she heard his name +mentioned. He was here and there--at Beard's off in the mountains. +But he did not come to Kells's cabin, which fact, Joan gathered, had +made Kells anxious. He did not want to lose Cleve. Joan peered from +her covert in the evenings, and watched for Jim, and grew weary of +the loud talk and laughter, the gambling and smoking and drinking. +When there seemed no more chance of Cleve's coming, then Joan went +to bed. + +On these occasions Joan learned that Kells was passionately keen to +gamble, that he was a weak hand at cards, an honest gambler, and, +strangely enough, a poor loser. Moreover, when he lost he drank +heavily, and under the influence of drink he was dangerous. There +were quarrels when curses rang throughout the cabin, when guns were +drawn, but whatever Kells's weaknesses might be, he was strong and +implacable in the governing of these men. + +That night when Gulden strode into the cabin was certainly not +uneventful for Joan. Sight of him sent a chill to her marrow while a +strange thrill of fire inflamed her. Was that great hulk of a +gorilla prowling about to meet Jim Cleve? Joan thought that it might +be the worse for him if he were. Then she shuddered a little to +think that she had already been influenced by the wildness around +her. + +Gulden appeared well and strong, and but for the bandage on his head +would have been as she remembered him. He manifested interest in the +gambling of the players by surly grunts. Presently he said something +to Kells. + +"What?" queried the bandit, sharply, wheeling, the better to see +Gulden. + +The noise subsided. One gamester laughed knowingly. + +"Lend me a sack of dust?" asked Gulden. + +Kells's face showed amaze and then a sudden brightness. + +"What! You want gold from me?" + +"Yes. I'll pay it back." + +"Gulden, I wasn't doubting that. But does your asking mean you've +taken kindly to my proposition?" + +"You can take it that way," growled Gulden. "I want gold." "I'm +mighty glad, Gulden," replied Kells, and he looked as if he meant +it. "I need you. We ought to get along. ... Here." + +He handed a small buckskin sack to Gulden. Someone made room for him +on the other side of the table, and the game was resumed. It was +interesting to watch them gamble. Red Pearce had a scale at his end +of the table, and he was always measuring and weighing out gold- +dust. The value of the gold appeared to be fifteen dollars to the +ounce, but the real value of money did not actuate the gamblers. +They spilled the dust on the table and ground as if it were as +common as sand. Still there did not seem to be any great quantity of +gold in sight. Evidently these were not profitable times for the +bandits. More than once Joan heard them speak of a gold strike as +honest people spoke of good fortune. And these robbers could only +have meant that in case of a rich strike there would be gold to +steal. Gulden gambled as he did everything else. At first he won and +then he lost, and then he borrowed more from Kells, to win again. He +paid back as he had borrowed and lost and won--without feeling. He +had no excitement. Joan's intuition convinced her that if Gulden had +any motive at all in gambling it was only an antagonism to men of +his breed. Gambling was a contest, a kind of fight. + +Most of the men except Gulden drank heavily that night. There had +been fresh liquor come with the last pack-train. Many of them were +drunk when the game broke up. Red Pearce and Wood remained behind +with Kells after the others had gone, and Pearce was clever enough +to cheat Kells before he left. + +"Boss--thet there Red double--crossed you," said Bate Wood. + +Kells had lost heavily, and he was under the influence of drink. He +drove Wood out of the cabin, cursing him sullenly. Then he put in +place the several bars that served as a door of his cabin. After +that he walked unsteadily around, and all about his action and +manner that was not aimless seemed to be dark and intermittent +staring toward Joan's cabin. She felt sickened again with this new +aspect of her situation, but she was not in the least afraid of +Kells. She watched him till he approached her door and then she drew +back a little. He paused before the blanket as if he had been +impelled to halt from fear. He seemed to be groping in thought. Then +he cautiously and gradually, by degrees, drew aside the blanket. He +could not see Joan in the darkness, but she saw him plainly. He +fumbled at the poles, and, finding that he could not budge them, he +ceased trying. There was nothing forceful or strong about him, such +as was manifest when he was sober. He stood there a moment, +breathing heavily, in a kind of forlorn, undecided way, and then he +turned back. Joan heard him snap the lanterns. The lights went out +and all grew dark and silent. + +Next morning at breakfast he was himself again, and if he had any +knowledge whatever of his actions while he was drunk, he effectually +concealed it from Joan. + +Later, when Joan went outside to take her usual morning exercise, +she was interested to see a rider tearing up the slope on a foam- +flecked horse. Men shouted at him from the cabins and then followed +without hats or coats. Bate Wood dropped Joan's saddle and called to +Kells. The bandit came hurriedly out. + +"Blicky!" he exclaimed, and then he swore under his breath in +elation. + +"Shore is Blicky!" said Wood, and his unusually mild eyes snapped +with a glint unpleasant for Joan to see. + +The arrival of this Blicky appeared to be occasion for excitement +and Joan recalled the name as belonging to one of Kells's trusted +men. He swung his leg and leaped from his saddle as the horse +plunged to a halt. Blicky was a lean, bronzed young man, scarcely +out of his teens, but there were years of hard life in his face. He +slapped the dust in little puffs from his gloves. At sight of Kells +he threw the gloves aloft and took no note of them when they fell. +"STRIKE!" he called, piercingly. + +"No!" ejaculated Kells, intensely. + +Bate Wood let out a whoop which was answered by the men hurrying up +the slope. + +"Been on--for weeks!" panted Blicky. "It's big. Can't tell how big. +Me an' Jesse Smith an' Handy Oliver hit a new road--over here fifty +miles as a crow flies--a hundred by trail. We was plumb surprised. +An' when we met pack-trains an' riders an' prairie-schooners an' a +stage-coach we knew there was doin's over in the Bear Mountain +range. When we came to the edge of the diggin's an' seen a whalin' +big camp--like a beehive--Jesse an' Handy went on to get the lay of +the land an' I hit the trail back to you. I've been a-comin' on an' +off since before sundown yesterday. ... Jesse gave one look an' then +hollered. He said, 'Tell Jack it's big an' he wants to plan big. +We'll be back there in a day or so with all details.'" + +Joan watched Kells intently while he listened to this breathless +narrative of a gold strike, and she was repelled by the singular +flash of brightness--a radiance--that seemed to be in his eyes and +on his face. He did not say a word, but his men shouted hoarsely +around Blicky. He walked a few paces to and fro with hands strongly +clenched, his lips slightly parted, showing teeth close-shut like +those of a mastiff. He looked eager, passionate, cunning, hard as +steel, and that strange brightness of elation slowly shaded to a +dark, brooding menace. Suddenly he wheeled to silence the noisy men. + +"Where're Pearce and Gulden? Do they know?" he demanded. + +"Reckon no one knows but who's right here," replied Blicky. + +"Red an' Gul are sleepin' off last night's luck," said Bate Wood. + +"Have any of you seen young Cleve?" Kells went on. His voice rang +quick and sharp. + +No one spoke, and presently Kells cracked his fist into his open +hand. + +"Come on. Get the gang together at Beard's. ... Boys, the time we've +been gambling on has come. Jesse Smith saw '49 and '51. He wouldn't +send me word like this--unless there was hell to pay. ... Come on!" + +He strode off down the slope with the men close around him, and they +met other men on the way, all of whom crowded into the group, +jostling, eager, gesticulating. + +Joan was left alone. She felt considerably perturbed, especially at +Kells's sharp inquiry for Jim Cleve. Kells might persuade him to +join that bandit legion. These men made Joan think of wolves, with +Kells the keen and savage leader. No one had given a thought to +Blicky's horse and that neglect in border men was a sign of unusual +preoccupation. The horse was in bad shape. Joan took off his saddle +and bridle, and rubbed the dust-caked lather from his flanks, and +led him into the corral. Then she fetched a bucket of water and let +him drink sparingly, a little at a time. + +Joan did not take her ride that morning. Anxious and curious, she +waited for the return of Kells. But he did not come. All afternoon +Joan waited and watched, and saw no sign of him or any of the other +men. She knew Kells was forging with red-hot iron and blood that +organization which she undesignedly had given a name--the Border +Legion. It would be a terrible legion, of that she was assured. +Kells was the evil genius to create an unparalleled scheme of crime; +this wild and remote border, with its inaccessible fastness for +hiding-places, was the place; all that was wanting was the time, +which evidently had arrived. She remembered how her uncle had always +claimed that the Bear Mountain range would see a gold strike which +would disrupt the whole West and amaze the world. And Blicky had +said a big strike had been on for weeks. Kells's prophecy of the +wild life Joan would see had not been without warrant. She had +already seen enough to whiten her hair, she thought, yet she divined +her experience would shrink in comparison with what was to come. +Always she lived in the future. She spent sleeping and waking hours +in dreams, thoughts, actions, broodings, over all of which hung an +ever-present shadow of suspense. When would she meet Jim Cleve +again? When would he recognize her? What would he do? What could she +do? Would Kells be a devil or a man at the end? Was there any +justification of her haunting fear of Gulden--of her suspicion that +she alone was the cause of his attitude toward Kells--of her horror +at the unshakable presentiment and fancy that he was a gorilla and +meant to make off with her? These, and a thousand other fears, some +groundless, but many real and present, besieged Joan and left her +little peace. What would happen next? + +Toward sunset she grew tired of waiting, and hungry, besides, so +she went into the cabin and prepared her own meal. About dark Kells +strode in, and it took but a glance for Joan to see that matters had +not gone to his liking. The man seemed to be burning inwardly. Sight +of Joan absolutely surprised him. Evidently in the fever of this +momentous hour he had forgotten his prisoner. Then, whatever his +obsession, he looked like a man whose eyes were gladdened at sight +of her and who was sorry to behold her there. He apologized that her +supper had not been provided for her and explained that he had +forgotten. The men had been crazy--hard to manage--the issue was not +yet settled. He spoke gently. Suddenly he had that thoughtful mien +which Joan had become used to associating with weakness in him. + +"I wish I hadn't dragged you here," he said, taking her hands. "It's +too late. I CAN'T lose you. ... But the--OTHER WAY--isn't too late!" + +"What way? What do you mean?" asked Joan. + +"Girl, will you ride off with me to-night?" he whispered, hoarsely. +"I swear I'll marry you--and become an honest man. To-morrow will be +too late! ... Will you?" + +Joan shook her head. She was sorry for him. When he talked like this +he was not Kells, the bandit. She could not resist a strange +agitation at the intensity of his emotion. One moment he had +entered--a bandit leader, planning blood, murder; the next, as his +gaze found her, he seemed weakened, broken in the shaking grip of a +hopeless love for her. + +"Speak, Joan!" he said, with his hands tightening and his brow +clouding. + +"No, Kells," she replied. + +"Why? Because I'm a red-handed bandit?" + +"No. Because I--I don't love you." + +"But wouldn't you rather be my wife--and have me honest--than become +a slave here, eventually abandoned to--to Gulden and his cave and +his rope?" Kells's voice rose as that other side of him gained +dominance. + +"Yes, I would. ... But I KNOW you'll never harm me--or abandon me +to--to that Gulden." + +"HOW do you know?" he cried, with the blood thick at his temples. + +"Because you're no beast any more. ... And you--you do love me." + +Kells thrust her from him so fiercely that she nearly fell. + +"I'll get over it. ... Then--look out!" he said, with dark +bitterness. + +With that he waved her back, apparently ordering her to her cabin, +and turned to the door, through which the deep voices of men sounded +nearer and nearer. + +Joan stumbled in the darkness up the rude steps to her room, and, +softly placing the poles in readiness to close her door, she +composed herself to watch and wait. The keen edge of her nerves, +almost amounting to pain, told her that this night of such moment +for Kells would be one of singular strain and significance for her. +But why she could not fathom. She felt herself caught by the +changing tide of events--a tide that must sweep her on to flood. +Kells had gone outside. The strong, deep voices' grew less distinct. +Evidently the men were walking away. In her suspense Joan was +disappointed. Presently, however, they returned; they had been +walking to and fro. After a few moments Kells entered alone. The +cabin was now so dark that Joan could barely distinguish the bandit. +Then he lighted the lanterns. He hung up several on the wall and +placed two upon the table. From somewhere among his effects he +produced a small book and a pencil; these, with a heavy, gold- +mounted gun, he laid on the table before the seat he manifestly +meant to occupy. That done, he began a slow pacing up and down the +room, his hands behind his back, his head bent in deep and absorbing +thought. What a dark, sinister, plotting figure! Joan had seen many +men in different attitudes of thought, but here was a man whose mind +seemed to give forth intangible yet terrible manifestations of evil. +The inside of that gloomy cabin took on another aspect; there was a +meaning in the saddles and bridles and weapons on the wall; that +book and pencil and gun seemed to contain the dark deeds of wild +men; and all about the bandit hovered a power sinister in its menace +to the unknown and distant toilers for gold. + +Kells lifted his head, as if listening, and then the whole manner of +the man changed. The burden that weighed upon him was thrown aside. +Like a general about to inspect a line of soldiers Kells faced the +door, keen, stern, commanding. The heavy tread of booted men, the +clink of spurs, the low, muffled sound of voices, warned Joan that +the gang had arrived. Would Jim Cleve be among them? + +Joan wanted a better position in which to watch and listen. She +thought a moment, and then carefully felt her way around to the +other side of the steps, and here, sitting down with her feet +hanging over the drop, she leaned against the wall and through a +chink between the logs had a perfect view of the large cabin. The +men were filing in silent and intense. Joan counted twenty-seven in +all. They appeared to fall into two groups, and it was significant +that the larger group lined up on the side nearest Kells, and the +smaller back of Gulden. He had removed the bandage, and with a raw, +red blotch where his right ear had been shot away, he was hideous. +There was some kind of power emanating from him, but it was not that +which, was so keenly vital and impelling in Kells. It was brute +ferocity, dominating by sheer physical force. In any but muscular +clash between Kells and Gulden the latter must lose. The men back of +Gulden were a bearded, check-shirted, heavily armed group, the worst +of that bad lot. All the younger, cleaner-cut men like Red Pearce +and Frenchy and Beady Jones and Williams and the scout Blicky, were +on the other side. There were two factions here, yet scarcely an +antagonism, except possibly in the case of Kells. Joan felt that the +atmosphere was supercharged with suspense and fatality and +possibility--and anything might happen. To her great joy, Jim Cleve +was not present. + +"Where're Beard and Wood?" queried Kells. + +"Workin' over Beard's sick hoss," replied Pearce. "They'll show up +by an' by. Anythin' you say goes with them, you know." + +"Did you find young Cleve?" + +"No. He camps up in the timber somewheres. Reckon he'll be along, +too." + +Kells sat down at the head of the table, and, taking up the little +book, he began to finger it while his pale eyes studied the men +before him. + +"We shuffled the deck pretty well over at Beard's," he said. "Now +for the deal. ... Who wants cards? ... I've organized my Border +Legion. I'll have absolute control, whether there're ten men or a +hundred. Now, whose names go down in my book?" + +Red Pearce stepped up and labored over the writing of his name. +Blicky, Jones, Williams, and others followed suit. They did not +speak, but each shook hands with the leader. Evidently Kells exacted +no oath, but accepted each man's free action and his word of honor. +There was that about the bandit which made such action as binding as +ties of blood. He did not want men in his Legion who had not loyalty +to him. He seemed the kind of leader to whom men would be true. + +"Kells, say them conditions over again," requested one of the men, +less eager to hurry with the matter. + +At this juncture Joan was at once thrilled and frightened to see Jim +Cleve enter the cabin. He appeared whiter of face, almost ghastly, +and his piercing eyes swept the room, from Kells to Gulden, from men +to men. Then he leaned against the wall, indistinct in the shadow. +Kells gave no sign that he had noted the advent of Cleve. + +"I'm the leader," replied Kells, deliberately. "I'll make the plans. +I'll issue orders. No jobs without my knowledge. Equal shares in +gold--man to man. ... Your word to stand by me!" + +A muttering of approval ran through the listening group. + +"Reckon I'll join," said the man who had wished the conditions +repeated. With that he advanced to the table and, apparently not +being able to write, he made his mark in the book. Kells wrote the +name below. The other men of this contingent one by one complied +with Kells's requirements. This action left Gulden and his group to +be dealt with. + +"Gulden, are you still on the fence?" demanded Kells, coolly. + +The giant strode stolidly forward to the table. As always before to +Joan, he seemed to be a ponderous hulk, slow, heavy, plodding, with +a mind to match. + +"Kells, if we can agree I'll join," he said in his sonorous voice. + +"You can bet you won't join unless we do agree," snapped Kells. +"But--see here, Gulden. Let's be friendly. The border is big enough +for both of us. I want you. I need you. Still, if we can't agree, +let's not split and be enemies. How about it?" + +Another muttering among the men attested to the good sense and good +will of Kells's suggestion. + +"Tell me what you're going to do--how you'll operate," replied +Gulden. + +Keils had difficulty in restraining his impatience and annoyance. + +"What's that to you or any of you?" he queried. "You all know I'm +the man to think of things. That's been proved. First it takes +brains. I'll furnish them. Then it takes execution. You and Pearce +and the gang will furnish that. What more do you need to know?" + +"How're you going to operate?" persisted Gulden. + +Kells threw up both hands as if it was useless to argue or reason +with this desperado. + +"All right, I'll tell you," he replied. "Listen. ... I can't say +what definite plans I'll make till Jesse Smith reports, and then +when I get on the diggings. But here's a working basis. Now don't +miss a word of this, Gulden--nor any of you men. We'll pack our +outfits down to this gold strike. We'll build cabins on the +outskirts of the town, and we won't hang together. The gang will be +spread out. Most of you must make a bluff at digging gold. Be like +other miners. Get in with cliques and clans. Dig, drink, gamble like +the rest of them. Beard will start a gambling-place. Red Pearce will +find some other kind of work. I'll buy up claims--employ miners to +work them. I'll disguise myself and get in with the influential men +and have a voice in matters. You'll all be scouts. You'll come to my +cabin at night to report. We'll not tackle any little jobs. Miners +going out with fifty or a hundred pounds of gold--the wagons--the +stage-coach--these we'll have timed to rights, and whoever I detail +on the job will hold them up. You must all keep sober, if that's +possible. You must all absolutely trust to my judgment. You must all +go masked while on a job. You must never speak a word that might +direct suspicion to you. In this way we may work all summer without +detection. The Border Legion will become mysterious and famous. It +will appear to be a large number of men, operating all over. The +more secretive we are the more powerful the effect on the diggings. +In gold-camps, when there's a strike, all men are mad. They suspect +each other. They can't organize. We shall have them helpless. ... +And in short, if it's as rich a strike as looks due here in these +hills, before winter we can pack out all the gold our horses can +carry." + +Kells had begun under restraint, but the sound of his voice, the +liberation of his great idea, roused him to a passion. The man +radiated with passion. This, then, was his dream--the empire he +aspired to. + +He had a powerful effect upon his listeners, except Gulden; and it +was evident to Joan that the keen bandit was conscious of his +influence. Gulden, however, showed nothing that he had not already +showed. He was always a strange, dominating figure. He contested the +relations of things. Kells watched him--the men watched him--and Jim +Cleve's piercing eyes glittered in the shadow, fixed upon that +massive face. Manifestly Gulden meant to speak, but in his slowness +there was no laboring, no pause from emotion. He had an idea and it +moved like he moved. + +"DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES!" The words boomed deep from his cavernous +chest, a mutter that was a rumble, with something almost solemn in +its note and certainly menacing, breathing murder. As Kells had +propounded his ideas, revealing his power to devise a remarkable +scheme and his passion for gold, so Gulden struck out with the +driving inhuman blood-lust that must have been the twist, the knot, +the clot in his brain. Kells craved notoriety and gold; Gulden +craved to kill. In the silence that followed his speech these wild +border ruffians judged him, measured him, understood him, and though +some of them grew farther aloof from him, more of them sensed the +safety that hid in his terrible implication. + +But Kells rose against him. + +"Gulden, you mean when we steal gold--to leave only dead men +behind?" he queried, with a hiss in his voice. + +The giant nodded grimly. + +"But only fools kill--unless in self-defense," declared Kells, +passionately. + +"We'd last longer," replied Gulden, imperturbably. + +"No--no. We'd never last so long. Killings rouse a mining-camp after +a while--gold fever or no. That means a vigilante band." + +"We can belong to the vigilantes, just as well as to your Legion," +said Gulden. + +The effect of this was to make Gulden appear less of a fool than +Kells supposed him. The ruffians nodded to one another. They stirred +restlessly. They were animated by a strange and provocative +influence. Even Red Pearce and the others caught its subtlety. It +was evil predominating in evil hearts. Blood and death loomed like a +shadow here. The keen Kells saw the change working toward a +transformation and he seemed craftily fighting something within him +that opposed this cold ruthlessness of his men. + +"Gulden, suppose I don't see it your way?" he asked. + +"Then I won't join your Legion." + +"What WILL you do?" + +"I'll take the men who stand by me and go clean up that gold-camp." + +From the fleeting expression on Kells's face Joan read that he knew +Gulden's project would defeat his own and render both enterprises +fatal. + +"Gulden, I don't want to lose you," he said. + +"You won't lose me if you see this thing right," replied Gulden. +"You've got the brains to direct us. But, Kells, you're losing your +nerve. ... It's this girl you've got here!" + +Gulden spoke without rancor or fear or feeling of any kind. He +merely spoke the truth. And it shook Kells with an almost +ungovernable fury. + +Joan saw the green glare of his eyes--his gray working face--the +flutter of his hand. She had an almost superhuman insight into the +workings of his mind. She knew that then--he was fighting whether or +not to kill Gulden on the spot. And she recognized that this was the +time when Kells must kill Gulden or from that moment see a gradual +diminishing of his power on the border. But Kells did not recognize +that crucial height of his career. His struggle with his fury and +hate showed that the thing uppermost in his mind was the need of +conciliating Gulden and thus regaining a hold over the men. + +"Gulden, suppose we waive the question till we're on the grounds?" +he suggested. + +"Waive nothing. It's one or the other with me," declared Gulden. + +"Do you want to be leader of this Border Legion?" went on Kells, +deliberately. + +"No." + +"Then what do you want?" + +Gulden appeared at a loss for an instant reply. "I want plenty to +do," he replied, presently. "I want to be in on everything. I want +to be free to kill a man when I like." + +"When you like!" retorted Kells, and added a curse. Then as if by +magic his dark face cleared and there was infinite depth and +craftiness in him. His opposition, and that hint of hate and +loathing which detached him from Gulden, faded from his bearing. +"Gulden, I'll split the difference between us. I'll leave you free +to do as you like. But all the others--every man--must take orders +from me." + +Gulden reached out a huge hand. His instant acceptance evidently +amazed Kells and the others. + +"LET HER RIP!" Gulden exclaimed. He shook Kells's hand and then +laboriously wrote his name in the little book. + +In that moment Gulden stood out alone in the midst of wild abandoned +men. What were Kells and this Legion to him? What was the stealing +of more or less gold? + +"Free to do as you like except fight my men," said Kells. "That's +understood." + +"If they don't pick a fight with me," added the giant, and he +grinned. + +One by one his followers went through with the simple observances +that Kells's personality made a serious and binding compact. + +"Anybody else?" called Kells, glancing round. The somberness was +leaving his face. + +"Here's Jim Cleve," said Pearce, pointing toward the wall. + +"Hello, youngster! Come here. I'm wanting you bad," said Kells. + +Cleve sauntered out of the shadow, and his glittering eyes were +fixed on Gulden. There was an instant of waiting. Gulden looked at +Cleve. Then Kells quickly strode between them. + +"Say, I forgot you fellows had trouble," he said. He attended solely +to Gulden. "You can't renew your quarrel now. Gulden, we've all +fought together more or less, and then been good friends. I want +Cleve to join us, but not against your ill will. How about it?" + +"I've no ill will," replied the giant, and the strangeness of his +remark lay in its evident truth. "But I won't stand to lose my other +ear!" + +Then the ruffians guffawed in hoarse mirth. Gulden, however, did not +seem to see any humor in his remark. Kells laughed with the rest. +Even Cleve's white face relaxed into a semblance of a smile. + +"That's good. We're getting together," declared Kells. Then he faced +Cleve, all about him expressive of elation, of assurance, of power. +"Jim, will you draw cards in this deal?" + +"What's the deal?" asked Cleve. + +Then in swift, eloquent speech Kells launched the idea of his Border +Legion, its advantages to any loose-footed, young outcast, and he +ended his brief talk with much the same argument he had given Joan. +Back there in her covert Joan listened and watched, mindful of the +great need of controlling her emotions. The instant Jim Cleve had +stalked into the light she had been seized by a spasm of trembling. + +"Kells, I don't care two straws one way or another," replied Cleve. + +The bandit appeared nonplussed. "You don't care whether you join my +Legion or whether you don't?" + +"Not a damn," was the indifferent answer. + +"Then do me a favor," went on Kells. "Join to please me. We'll be +good friends. You're in bad out here on the border. You might as +well fall in with us." + +"I'd rather go alone." + +"But you won't last." + +"It's a lot I care." + +The bandit studied the reckless, white face. "See here, Cleve-- +haven't you got the nerve to be bad--thoroughly bad?" + +Cleve gave a start as if he had been stung. Joan shut her eyes to +blot out what she saw in his face. Kells had used part of the very +speech with which she had driven Jim Cleve to his ruin. And those +words galvanized him. The fatality of all this! Joan hated herself. +Those very words of hers would drive this maddened and heartbroken +boy to join Kells's band. She knew what to expect from Jim even +before she opened her eyes; yet when she did open them it was to see +him transformed and blazing. + +Then Kells either gave way to leaping passion or simulated it in the +interest of his cunning. + +"Cleve, you're going down for a woman?" he queried, with that sharp, +mocking ring in his voice. + +"If you don't shut up you'll get there first," replied Cleve, +menacingly. + +"Bah! ... Why do you want to throw a gun on me? I'm your friend: +You're sick. You're like a poisoned pup. I say if you've got nerve +you won't quit. You'll take a run for your money. You'll see life. +You'll fight. You'll win some gold. There are other women. Once I +thought I would quit for a woman. But I didn't. I never found the +right one till I had gone to hell--out here on this border. ... If +you've got nerve, show me. Be a man instead of a crazy youngster. +Spit out the poison. ... Tell it before us all! ... Some girl drove +you to us?" + +"Yes--a girl!" replied Cleve, hoarsely, as if goaded. + +"It's too late to go back?" + +"Too late!" + +"There's nothing left but wild life that makes you forget?" + +"Nothing. ... Only I--can't forget!" he panted. + +Cleve was in a torture of memory, of despair, of weakness. Joan saw +how Kells worked upon Jim's feelings. He was only a hopeless, +passionate boy in the hands of a strong, implacable man. He would be +like wax to a sculptor's touch. Jim would bend to this bandit's +will, and through his very tenacity of love and memory be driven +farther on the road to drink, to gaming, and to crime. + +Joan got to her feet, and with all her woman's soul uplifting and +inflaming her she stood ready to meet the moment that portended. + +Kells made a gesture of savage violence. "Show your nerve! ... Join +with me! ... You'll make a name on this border that the West will +never forget!" + +That last hint of desperate fame was the crafty bandit's best trump. +And it won. Cleve swept up a weak and nervous hand to brush the hair +from his damp brow. The keenness, the fire, the aloofness had +departed from him. He looked shaken as if by something that had been +pointed out as his own cowardice. + +"Sure, Kells," he said, recklessly. "Let me in the game. ... And--by +God--I'll play--the hand out!" He reached for the pencil and bent +over the book. + +"Wait! ... Oh, WAIT!" cried Joan. The passion of that moment, the +consciousness of its fateful portent and her situation, as desperate +as Cleve's, gave her voice a singularly high and piercingly sweet +intensity. She glided from behind the blanket--out of the shadow-- +into the glare of the lanterns--to face Kells and Cleve. + +Kells gave one astounded glance at her, and then, divining her +purpose, he laughed thrillingly and mockingly, as if the sight of +her was a spur, as if her courage was a thing to admire, to permit, +and to regret. + +"Cleve, my wife, Dandy Dale," he said, suave and cool. "Let her +persuade you--one way or another!" + +The presence of a woman, however disguised, following her singular +appeal, transformed Cleve. He stiffened erect and the flush died out +of his face, leaving it whiter than ever, and the eyes that had +grown dull quickened and began to burn. Joan felt her cheeks blanch. +She all but fainted under that gaze. But he did not recognize her, +though he was strangely affected. + +"Wait!" she cried again, and she held to that high voice, so +different from her natural tone. "I've been listening. I've heard +all that's been said. Don't join this Border Legion. ... You're +young--and still, honest. For God's sake--don't go the way of these +men! Kells will make you a bandit. ... Go home--boy--go home!" + +"Who are you--to speak to me of honesty--of home?" Cleve demanded. + +"I'm only a--a woman. ... But I can feel how wrong you are. ... Go +back to that girl--who--who drove you to the border. ... She must +repent. In a day you'll be too late. ... Oh, boy, go home! Girls +never know their minds--their hearts. Maybe your girl--loved you! ... +Oh, maybe her heart is breaking now!" + +A strong, muscular ripple went over Cleve, ending in a gesture of +fierce protest. Was it pain her words caused, or disgust that such +as she dared mention the girl he had loved? Joan could not tell. She +only knew that Cleve was drawn by her presence, fascinated and +repelled, subtly responding to the spirit of her, doubting what he +heard and believing with his eyes. + +"You beg me not to become a bandit?" he asked, slowly, as if +revolving a strange idea. + +"Oh, I implore you!" + +"Why?" + +"I told you. Because you're still good at heart. You've only been +wild. ... Because--" + +"Are you the wife of Kells?" he flashed at her. + +A reply seemed slowly wrenched from Joan's reluctant lips. "No!" + +The denial left a silence behind it. The truth that all knew when +spoken by her was a kind of shock. The ruffians gaped in breathless +attention. Kells looked on with a sardonic grin, but he had grown +pale. And upon the face of Cleve shone an immeasurable scorn. + +"Not his wife!" exclaimed Cleve, softly. + +His tone was unendurable to Joan. She began to shrink. A flame +curled within her. How he must hate any creature of her sex! + +"And you appeal to me!" he went on. Suddenly a weariness came over +him. The complexity of women was beyond him. Almost he turned his +back upon her. "I reckon such as you can't keep me from Kells--or +blood--or hell!" + +"Then you're a narrow-souled weakling--born to crime!" she burst out +in magnificent wrath. "For however appearances are against me--I am +a good woman!" + +That stunned him, just as it drew Kells upright, white and watchful. +Cleve seemed long in grasping its significance. His face was half +averted. Then he turned slowly, all strung, and his hands clutched +quiveringly at the air. No man of coolness and judgment would have +addressed him or moved a step in that strained moment. All expected +some such action as had marked his encounter with Luce and Gulden. + +Then Cleve's gaze in unmistakable meaning swept over Joan's person. +How could her appearance and her appeal be reconciled? One was a +lie! And his burning eyes robbed Joan of spirit. + +"He forced me to--to wear these," she faltered. "I'm his prisoner. +I'm helpless." + +With catlike agility Cleve leaped backward, so that he faced all the +men, and when his hands swept to a level they held gleaming guns. +His utter abandon of daring transfixed these bandits in surprise as +much as fear. Kells appeared to take most to himself the menace. + +"_I_ CRAWL!" he said, huskily. "She speaks the God's truth. ... But +you can't help matters by killing me. Maybe she'd be worse off!" + +He expected this wild boy to break loose, yet his wit directed him +to speak the one thing calculated to check Cleve. + +"Oh, don't shoot!" moaned Joan. + +"You go outside," ordered Cleve. "Get on a horse and lead another +near the door. ... Go! I'll take you away from this." + +Both temptation and terror assailed Joan. Surely that venture would +mean only death to Jim and worse for her. She thrilled at the +thought--at the possibility of escape--at the strange front of this +erstwhile nerveless boy. But she had not the courage for what seemed +only desperate folly. + +"I'll stay," she whispered. "You go!" + +"Hurry, woman!" + +"No! No!" + +"Do you want to stay with this bandit?" + +"Oh, I must!" + +"Then you love him?" + +All the fire of Joan's heart flared up to deny the insult and all +her woman's cunning fought to keep back words that inevitably must +lead to revelation. She drooped, unable to hold up under her shame, +yet strong to let him think vilely of her, for his sake. That way +she had a barest chance. + +"Get out of my sight!" he ejaculated, thickly. "I'd have fought for +you." + +Again that white, weary scorn radiated from him. Joan bit her tongue +to keep from screaming. How could she live under this torment? It +was she, Joan Randle, that had earned that scorn, whether he knew +her or not. She shrank back, step by step, almost dazed, sick with a +terrible inward, coldness, blinded by scalding tears. She found her +door and stumbled in. + +"Kells, I'm what you called me." She heard Cleve's voice, strangely +far off. "There's no excuse ... unless I'm not just right in my head +about women. ... Overlook my break or don't--as you like. But if you +want me I'm ready for your Border Legion!" + + + + +12 + +Those bitter words of Cleve's, as if he mocked himself, were the +last Joan heard, and they rang in her ears and seemed to reverberate +through her dazed mind like a knell of doom. She lay there, all +blackness about her, weighed upon by an insupportable burden; and +she prayed that day might never dawn for her; a nightmare of +oblivion ended at last with her eyes opening to the morning light. + +She was cold and stiff. She had lain uncovered all the long hours of +night. She had not moved a finger since she had fallen upon the bed, +crushed by those bitter words with which Cleve had consented to join +Kells's Legion. Since then Joan felt that she had lived years. She +could not remember a single thought she might have had during those +black hours; nevertheless, a decision had been formed in her mind, +and it was that to-day she would reveal herself to Jim Cleve if it +cost both their lives. Death was infinitely better than the suspense +and fear and agony she had endured; and as for Jim, it would at +least save him from crime. + +Joan got up, a little dizzy and unsteady upon her feet. Her hands +appeared clumsy and shaky. All the blood in her seemed to surge from +heart to brain and it hurt her to breathe. Removing her mask, she +bathed her face and combed her hair. At first she conceived an idea +to go out without her face covered, but she thought better of it. +Cleve's reckless defiance had communicated itself to her. She could +not now be stopped. + +Kells was gay and excited that morning. He paid her compliments. He +said they would soon be out of this lonely gulch and she would see +the sight of her life--a gold strike. She would see men wager a +fortune on the turn of a card, lose, laugh, and go back to the +digging. He said he would take her to Sacramento and 'Frisco and buy +her everything any girl could desire. He was wild, voluble, +unreasoning--obsessed by the anticipated fulfilment of his dream. + +It was rather late in the morning and there were a dozen or more men +in and around the cabin, all as excited as Kells. Preparations were +already under way for the expected journey to the gold-field. Packs +were being laid out, overhauled, and repacked; saddles and bridles +and weapons were being worked over; clothes were being awkwardly +mended. Horses were being shod, and the job was as hard and +disagreeable for men as for horses. Whenever a rider swung up the +slope, and one came every now and then, all the robbers would leave +off their tasks and start eagerly for the newcomer. The name Jesse +Smith was on everybody's lips. Any hour he might be expected to +arrive and corroborate Blicky's alluring tale. + +Joan saw or imagined she saw that the glances in the eyes of these +men were yellow, like gold fire. She had seen miners and prospectors +whose eyes shone with a strange glory of light that gold inspired, +but never as those of Kells's bandit Legion. Presently Joan +discovered that, despite the excitement, her effect upon them was +more marked then ever, and by a difference that she was quick to +feel. But she could not tell what this difference was--how their +attitude had changed. Then she set herself the task of being useful. +First she helped Bate Wood. He was roughly kind. She had not +realized that there was sadness about her until he whispered: "Don't +be downcast, miss. Mebbe it'll come out right yet!" That amazed +Joan. Then his mysterious winks and glances, the sympathy she felt +in him, all attested to some kind of a change. She grew keen to +learn, but she did not know how. She felt the change in all the men. +Then she went to Pearce and with all a woman's craft she exaggerated +the silent sadness that had brought quick response from Wood. Red +Pearce was even quicker. He did not seem to regard her proximity as +that of a feminine thing which roused the devil in him. Pearce could +not be other than coarse and vulgar, but there was pity in him. Joan +sensed pity and some other quality still beyond her. This lieutenant +of the bandit Kells was just as mysterious as Wood. Joan mended a +great jagged rent in his buckskin shirt. Pearce appeared proud of +her work; he tried to joke; he said amiable things. Then as she +finished he glanced furtively round; he pressed her hand: "I had a +sister once!" he whispered. And then with a dark and baleful hate: +"Kells!--he'll get his over in the gold-camp!" + +Joan turned away from Pearce still more amazed. Some strange, deep +undercurrent was working here. There had been unmistakable hate for +Kells in his dark look and a fierce implication in his portent of +fatality. What had caused this sudden impersonal interest in her +situation? What was the meaning of the subtle animosity toward the +bandit leader? Was there no honor among evil men banded together for +evil deeds? Were jealousy, ferocity, hate and faithlessness fostered +by this wild and evil border life, ready at an instant's notice to +break out? Joan divined the vain and futile and tragical nature of +Kell's great enterprise. It could not succeed. It might bring a few +days or weeks of fame, of blood-stained gold, of riotous gambling, +but by its very nature it was doomed. It embraced failure and death. + +Joan went from man to man, keener now on the track of this +inexplicable change, sweetly and sadly friendly to each; and it was +not till she encountered the little Frenchman that the secret was +revealed. Frenchy was of a different race. Deep in the fiber of his +being inculcated a sentiment, a feeling, long submerged in the +darkness of a wicked life, and now that something came fleeting out +of the depths--and it was respect for a woman. To Joan it was a +flash of light. Yesterday these ruffians despised her; to-day they +respected her. So they had believed what she had so desperately +flung at Jim Cleve. They believed her good, they pitied her, they +respected her, they responded to her effort to turn a boy back from +a bad career. They were bandits, desperados, murderers, lost, but +each remembered in her a mother or a sister. What each might have +felt or done had he possessed her, as Kells possessed her, did not +alter the case as it stood. A strange inconsistency of character +made them hate Kells for what they might not have hated in +themselves. Her appeal to Cleve, her outburst of truth, her youth +and misfortune, had discovered to each a human quality. As in Kells +something of nobility still lingered, a ghost among his ruined +ideals, so in the others some goodness remained. Joan sustained an +uplifting divination--no man was utterly bad. Then came the hideous +image of the giant Gulden, the utter absence of soul in him, and she +shuddered. Then came the thought of Jim Cleve, who had not believed +her, who had bitterly made the fatal step, who might in the strange +reversion of his character be beyond influence. + +And it was at the precise moment when this thought rose to +counteract the hope revived by the changed attitude of the men that +Joan looked out to see Jim Cleve sauntering up, careless, untidy, a +cigarette between his lips, blue blotches on his white face, upon +him the stamp of abandonment. Joan suffered a contraction of heart +that benumbed her breast. She stood a moment battling with herself. +She was brave enough, desperate enough, to walk straight up to +Cleve, remove her mask and say, "I am Joan!" But that must be a last +resource. She had no plan, yet she might force an opportunity to see +Cleve alone. + +A shout rose above the hubbub of voices. A tall man was pointing +across the gulch where dust-clouds showed above the willows. Men +crowded round him, all gazing in the direction of his hand, all +talking at once. + +"Jesse Smith's hoss, I swear!" shouted the tall man. "Kells, come +out here!" + +Kells appeared, dark and eager, at the door, and nimbly he leaped to +the excited group. Pearce and Wood and others followed. + +"What's up?" called the bandit. "Hello! Who's that riding bareback?" + +"He's shore cuttin' the wind," said Wood. + +"Blicky!" exclaimed the tall man. "Kells, there's news. I seen +Jesse's hoss." + +Kells let out a strange, exultant cry. The excited talk among the +men gave place, to a subdued murmur, then subsided. Blicky was +running a horse up the road, hanging low over him, like an Indian. +He clattered to the bench, scattered the men in all directions. The +fiery horse plunged and pounded. Blicky was gray of face and wild of +aspect. + +"Jesse's come!" he yelled, hoarsely, at Kells. "He jest fell off his +hoss--all in! He wants you--an' all the gang! He's seen a million +dollars in gold-dust!" + +Absolute silence ensued after that last swift and startling speech. +It broke to a commingling of yells and shouts. Blicky wheeled his +horse and Kells started on a run. And there was a stampede and rush +after him. + +Joan grasped her opportunity. She had seen all this excitement, but +she had not lost sight of Cleve. He got up from a log and started +after the others. Joan flew to him, grasped him, startled him with +the suddenness of her onslaught. But her tongue seemed cloven to the +roof of her mouth, her lips weak and mute. Twice she strove to +speak. + +"Meet me--there!--among the pines--right away!" she whispered, with +breathless earnestness. "It's life--or death--for me!" + +As she released his arm he snatched at her mask. But she eluded him. + +"Who ARE you?" he flashed. + +Kells and his men were piling into the willows, leaping the brook, +hurrying on. They had no thought but to get to Jesse Smith to hear +of the gold strike. That news to them was as finding gold in the +earth was to honest miners. + +"Come!" cried Joan. She hurried away toward the corner of the cabin, +then halted to see if he was following. He was, indeed. She ran +round behind the cabin, out on the slope, halting at the first +trees. Cleve came striding after her. She ran on, beginning to pant +and stumble. The way he strode, the white grimness of him, +frightened her. What would he, do? Again she went on, but not +running now. There were straggling pines and spruces that soon hid +the cabins. Beyond, a few rods, was a dense clump of pines, and she +made for that. As she reached it she turned fearfully. Only Cleve +was in sight. She uttered a sob of mingled relief, joy, and +thankfulness. She and Cleve had not been observed. They would be out +of sight in this little pine grove. At last! She could reveal +herself, tell him why she was there, that she loved him, that she +was as good as ever she had been. Why was she shaking like a leaf in +the wind? She saw Cleve through a blur. He was almost running now. +Involuntarily she fled into the grove. It was dark and cool; it +smelled sweetly of pine; there were narrow aisles and little sunlit +glades. She hurried on till a fallen tree blocked her passage. Here +she turned--she would wait--the tree was good to lean against. There +came Cleve, a dark, stalking shadow. She did not remember him like +that. He entered the glade. + +"Speak again!" he said, thickly. "Either I'm drunk or crazy!" + +But Joan could not speak. She held out hands that shook--swept them +to her face--tore at the mask. Then with a gasp she stood revealed. + +If she had stabbed him straight through the heart he could not have +been more ghastly. Joan saw him, in all the terrible transfiguration +that came over him, but she had no conceptions, no thought of what +constituted that change. After that check to her mind came a surge +of joy. + +"Jim! ... Jim! It's Joan!" she breathed, with lips almost mute. + +"JOAN!" he gasped, and the sound of his voice seemed to be the +passing from horrible doubt to certainty. + +Like a panther he leaped at her, fastened a powerful hand at the +neck of her blouse, jerked her to her knees, and began to drag her. +Joan fought his iron grasp. The twisting and tightening of her +blouse choked her utterance. He did not look down upon her, but she +could see him, the rigidity of his body set in violence, the awful +shade upon his face, the upstanding hair on his head. He dragged her +as if she had been an empty sack. Like a beast he was seeking a dark +place--a hole to hide her. She was strangling; a distorted sight +made objects dim; and now she struggled instinctively. Suddenly the +clutch at her neck loosened; gaspingly came the intake of air to her +lungs; the dark-red veil left her eyes. She was still upon her +knees. Cleve stood before her, like a gray-faced demon, holding his +gun level, ready to fire. + +"Pray for your soul--and mine!" + +"Jim! Oh Jim! ... Will you kill yourself, too?" + +"Yes! But pray, girl--quick!" + +"Then I pray to God--not for my soul--but just for one more moment +of life... TO TELL YOU, JIM!" + +Cleve's face worked and the gun began to waver. Her reply had been a +stroke of lightning into the dark abyss of his jealous agony. + +Joan saw it, and she raised her quivering face, and she held up her +arms to him. "To tell--you--Jim!" she entreated. + +"What?" he rasped out. + +"That I'm innocent--that I'm as good--a girl--as ever.. ever. ... +Let me tell you. ... Oh, you're mistaken--terribly mistaken." + +"Now, I know I'm drunk. ... You, Joan Randle! You in that rig! You +the companion of Jack Kells! Not even his wife! The jest of these +foul-mouthed bandits! And you say you're innocent--good? ... When you +refused to leave him!" + +"I was afraid to go--afraid you'd be killed," she moaned, beating +her breast. + +It must have seemed madness to him, a monstrous nightmare, a +delirium of drink, that Joan Randle was there on her knees in a +brazen male attire, lifting her arms to him, beseeching him, not to +spare her life, but to believe in her innocence. + +Joan burst into swift, broken utterance: "Only listen! I trailed you +out--twenty miles from Hoadley. I met Roberts. He came with me. He +lamed his horse--we had to camp. Kells rode down on us. He had two +men. They camped there. Next morning he--killed Roberts--made off +with me. ... Then he killed his men--just to have me--alone to +himself. ... We crossed a range--camped in the canon. There he +attacked me--and I--I shot him! ... But I couldn't leave him--to +die!" Joan hurried on with her narrative, gaining strength and +eloquence as she saw the weakening of Cleve. "First he said I was +his wife to fool that Gulden--and the others," she went on. "He +meant to save me from them. But they guessed or found out. ... Kells +forced me into these bandit clothes. He's depraved, somehow. And I +had to wear something. Kells hasn't harmed me--no one has. I've +influence over him. He can't resist it. He's tried to force me to +marry him. And he's tried to give up to his evil intentions. But he +can't. There's good in him. I can make him feel it. ... Oh, he loves +me, and I'm not afraid of him any more. ... It has been a terrible +time for me, Jim, but I'm still--the same girl you knew--you used +to--" + +Cleve dropped the gun and he waved his hand before his eyes as if to +dispel a blindness. + +"But why--why?" he asked, incredulously. "Why did you leave Hoadley? +That's forbidden. You knew the risk." + +Joan gazed steadily up at him, to see the whiteness slowly fade out +of his face. She had imagined it would be an overcoming of pride to +betray her love, but she had been wrong. The moment was so full, so +overpowering, that she seemed dumb. He had ruined himself for her, +and out of that ruin had come the glory of her love. Perhaps it was +all too late, but at least he would know that for love of him she +had in turn sacrificed herself. + +"Jim," she whispered, and with the first word of that betrayal a +thrill, a tremble, a rush went over her, and all her blood seemed +hot at her neck and face, "that night when you kissed me I was +furious. But the moment you had gone I repented. I must have--cared +for you then, but I didn't know. ... Remorse seized me. And I set +out on your trail to save you from yourself. And with the pain and +fear and terror there was sometimes--the--the sweetness of your +kisses. Then I knew I cared. ... And with the added days of suspense +and agony--all that told me of your throwing your life away--there +came love. ... Such love as otherwise I'd never have been big enough +for! I meant to find you--to save you--to send you home! ... I have +found you, maybe too late to save your life, but not your soul, +thank God! ... That's why I've been strong enough to hold back Kells. +I love you, Jim! ... I love you! I couldn't tell you enough. My heart +is bursting. ... Say you believe me! Say you know I'm good--true to +you--your Joan! ... And kiss me--like you did that night when we were +such blind fools. A boy and a girl who didn't know--and couldn't +tell!--Oh, the sadness of it! . ... Kiss me, Jim, before I--drop--at +your feet! ... If only you--believe--" + +Joan was blinded by tears and whispering she knew not what when +Cleve broke from his trance and caught her to his breast. She was +fainting--hovering at the border of unconsciousness when his +violence held her back from oblivion. She seemed wrapped to him and +held so tightly there was no breath in her body, no motion, no stir +of pulse. That vague, dreamy moment passed. She heard his husky, +broken accents--she felt the pound of his heart against her breast. +And he began to kiss her as she had begged him to. She quickened to +thrilling, revivifying life. And she lifted her face, and clung +round his neck, and kissed him, blindly, sweetly, passionately, with +all her heart and soul in her lips, wanting only one thing in the +world--to give that which she had denied him. + +"Joan! ... Joan! ... Joan!" he murmured when their lips parted. "Am I +dreaming--drunk--or crazy?" + +"Oh, Jim, I'm real--you have me in your arms," she whispered. "Dear +Jim--kiss me again--and say you believe me." + +"Believe you? ... I'm out of my mind with joy. ... You loved me! You +followed me! ... And--that idea of mine--only an absurd, vile +suspicion! I might have known--had I been sane!" + +"There. ... Oh, Jim! ... Enough of madness. We've got to plan. +Remember where we are. There's Kells, and this terrible situation to +meet!" + +He stared at her, slowly realizing, and then it was his turn to +shake. "My God! I'd forgotten. I'll HAVE to kill you now!" + +A reaction set in. If he had any self-control left he lost it, and +like a boy whose fling into manhood had exhausted his courage he +sank beside her and buried his face against her. And he cried in a +low, tense, heartbroken way. For Joan it was terrible to hear him. +She held his hand to her breast and implored him not to weaken now. +But he was stricken with remorse--he had run off like a coward, he +had brought her to this calamity--and he could not rise under it. +Joan realized that he had long labored under stress of morbid +emotion. Only a supreme effort could lift him out of it to strong +and reasoning equilibrium, and that must come from her. + +She pushed him away from her, and held him back where he must see +her, and white-hot with passionate purpose, she kissed him. "Jim +Cleve, if you've NERVE enough to be BAD you've nerve enough to save +the girl who LOVES you--who BELONGS to you!" + +He raised his face and it flashed from red to white. He caught the +subtlety of her antithesis. With the very two words which had driven +him away under the sting of cowardice she uplifted him; and with all +that was tender and faithful and passionate in her meaning of +surrender she settled at once and forever the doubt of his manhood. +He arose trembling in every limb. Like a dog he shook himself. His +breast heaved. The shades of scorn and bitterness and abandon might +never have haunted his face. In that moment he had passed from the +reckless and wild, sick rage of a weakling to the stern, realizing +courage of a man. His suffering on this wild border had developed a +different fiber of character; and at the great moment, the climax, +when his moral force hung balanced between elevation and +destruction, the woman had called to him, and her unquenchable +spirit passed into him. + +"There's only one thing--to get away," he said. + +"Yes, but that's a terrible risk," she replied. + +"We've a good chance now. I'll get horses. We can slip away while +they're all excited." + +"No--no. I daren't risk so much. Kells would find out at once. He'd +be like a hound on our trail. But that's not all. I've a horror of +Gulden. I can't explain. I FEEL it. He would know--he would take the +trail. I'd never try to escape with Gulden in camp. ... Jim, do you +know what he's done?" + +"He's a cannibal. I hate the sight of him. I tried to kill him. I +wish I had killed him." + +"I'm never safe while he's near." + +"Then I will kill him." + +"Hush! you'll not be desperate unless you have to be. ... Listen. +I'm safe with Kells for the present. And he's friendly to you. Let +us wait. I'll keep trying to influence him. I have won the +friendship of some of his men. We'll stay with him--travel with him. +Surely we'd have a better chance to excape after we reach that gold- +camp. You must play your part. But do it without drinking and +fighting. I couldn't bear that. We'll see each other somehow. We'll +plan. Then we'll take the first chance to get away." + +"We might never have a better chance than we've got right now," he +remonstrated. + +"It may seem so to you. But I KNOW. I haven't watched these ruffians +for nothing. I tell you Gulden has split with Kells because of me. I +don't know how I know. And I think I'd die of terror out on the +trail with two hundred miles to go--and that gorilla after me." + +"But, Joan, if we once got away Gulden would never take you alive," +said Jim, earnestly. "So you needn't fear that." + +"I've uncanny horror of him. It's as if he were a gorilla--and would +take me off even if I were dead! ... No, Jim, let us wait. Let me +select the time. I can do it. Trust me. Oh, Jim, now that I've saved +you from being a bandit, I can do anything. I can fool Kells or +Pearce or Wood--any of them, except Gulden." + +"If Kells had to choose now between trailing you and rushing for the +gold-camp, which would he do?" + +"He'd trail me," she said. + +"But Kells is crazy over gold. He has two passions. To steal gold, +and to gamble with it." + +"That may be. But he'd go after me first. So would Gulden. We can't +ride these hills as they do. We don't know the trails--the water. +We'd get lost. We'd be caught. And somehow I know that Gulden and +his gang would find us first." + +"You're probably right, Joan," replied Cleve. "But you condemn me to +a living death. ... To let you out of my sight with Kells or any of +them! It'll be worse almost than my life was before." + +"But, Jim, I'll be safe," she entreated. "It's the better choice of +two evils. Our lives depend on reason, waiting, planning. And, Jim, +I want to live for you." + +"My brave darling, to hear you say that!" he exclaimed, with deep +emotion. "When I never expected to see you again! ... But the past is +past. I begin over from this hour. I'll be what you want--do what +you want." + +Joan seemed irresistibly drawn to him again, and the supplication, +as she lifted her blushing face, and the yielding, were perilously +sweet. + +"Jim, kiss me and hold me--the way--you did that night!" + +And it was not Joan who first broke that embrace. + +"Find my mask," she said. + +Cleve picked up his gun and presently the piece of black felt. He +held it as if it were a deadly thing. + +"Put it on me." + +He slipped the cord over her head and adjusted the mask so the holes +came right for her eyes. + +"Joan, it hides the--the GOODNESS of you," he cried. "No one can see +your eyes now. No one will look at your face. That rig shows your-- +shows you off so! It's not decent. ... But, O Lord! I'm bound to +confess how pretty, how devilish, how seductive you are! And I hate +it." + +"Jim, I hate it, too. But we must stand it. Try not to shame me any +more. ... And now good-by. Keep watch for me--as I will for you--all +the time." + +Joan broke from him and glided out of the grove, away under the +straggling pines, along the slope. She came upon her horse and she +led him back to the corral. Many of the horses had strayed. There +was no one at the cabin, but she saw men striding up the slope, +Kells in the lead. She had been fortunate. Her absence could hardly +have been noted. She had just strength left to get to her room, +where she fell upon the bed, weak and trembling and dizzy and +unutterably grateful at her deliverance from the hateful, unbearable +falsity of her situation. + + + + +13 + +It was afternoon before Joan could trust herself sufficiently to go +out again, and when she did she saw that she attracted very little +attention from the bandits. + +Kells had a springy step, a bright eye, a lifted head, and he seemed +to be listening. Perhaps he was--to the music of his sordid dreams. +Joan watched him sometimes with wonder. Even a bandit--plotting gold +robberies, with violence and blood merely means to an end--built +castles in the air and lived with joy! + +All that afternoon the bandits left camp in twos and threes, each +party with pack burros and horses, packed as Joan had not seen them +before on the border. Shovels and picks and old sieves and pans, +these swinging or tied in prominent places, were evidence that the +bandits meant to assume the characters of miners and prospectors. +They whistled and sang. It was a lark. The excitement had subsided +and the action begun. Only in Kells, under his radiance, could be +felt the dark and sinister plot. He was the heart of the machine. + +By sundown Kells, Pearce, Wood, Jim Cleve, and a robust, grizzled +bandit, Jesse Smith, were left in camp. Smith was lame from his +ride, and Joan gathered that Kells would have left camp but for the +fact that Smith needed rest. He and Kells were together all the +time, talking endlessly. Joan heard them argue a disputed point-- +would the men abide by Kells's plan and go by twos and threes into +the gold-camp, and hide their relations as a larger band? Kells +contended they would and Smith had his doubts. + +"Jack, wait till you see Alder Creek!" ejaculated Smith, wagging his +grizzled head. "Three thousand men, old an' young, of all kinds-- +gone gold--crazy! Alder Creek has got California's '49 and' '51 +cinched to the last hole!" And the bandit leader rubbed his palms in +great glee. + +That evening they all had supper together in Kell's cabin. Bate Wood +grumbled because he had packed most of his outfit. It so chanced +that Joan sat directly opposite Jim Cleve, and while he ate he +pressed her foot with his under the table. The touch thrilled Joan. +Jim did not glance at her, but there was such a change in him that +she feared it might rouse Kells's curiosity. This night, however, +the bandit could not have seen anything except a gleam of yellow. He +talked, he sat at table, but did not eat. After supper he sent Joan +to her cabin, saying they would be on the trail at daylight. Joan +watched them awhile from her covert. They had evidently talked +themselves out, and Kells grew thoughtful. Smith and Pearce went +outside, apparently to roll their beds on the ground under the porch +roof. Wood, who said he was never a good sleeper, smoked his pipe. +And Jim Cleve spread blankets along the wall in the shadow and and +lay down. Joan could see his eyes shining toward the door. Of course +he was thinking of her. But could he see her eyes? Watching her +chance, she slipped a hand from behind the curtain, and she knew +Cleve saw it. What a comfort that was! Joan's heart swelled. All +might yet be well. Jim Cleve would be near her while she slept. She +could sleep now without those dark dreams--without dreading to +awaken to the light. Again she saw Kells pacing the room, silent, +bent, absorbed, hands behind his back, weighted with his burden. It +was impossible not to feel sorry for him. With all his intelligence +and cunning power, his cause was hopeless. Joan knew that as she +knew so many other things without understanding why. She had not yet +sounded Jesse Smith, but not a man of all the others was true to +Kells. They would be of his Border Legion, do his bidding, revel in +their ill-gotten gains, and then, when he needed them most, be false +to him. + +When Joan was awakened her room was shrouded in gray gloom. A bustle +sound from the big cabin, and outside horses stamped and men talked. + +She sat alone at breakfast and ate by lantern-light. It was +necessary to take a lantern back to her cabin, and she was so long +in her preparations there that Kells called again. Somehow she did +not want to leave this cabin. It seemed protective and private, and +she feared she might not find such quarters again. Besides, upon the +moment of leaving she discovered that she had grown attached to the +place where she had suffered and thought and grown so much. + +Kells had put out the lights. Joan hurried through the cabin and +outside. The gray obscurity had given way to dawn. The air was cold, +sweet, bracing with the touch of mountain purity in it. The men, +except Kells, were all mounted, and the pack-train was in motion. +Kells dragged the rude door into position, and then, mounting, he +called to Joan to follow. She trotted her horse after him, down the +slope, across the brook and through the wet willows, and out upon +the wide trail. She glanced ahead, discerning that the third man +from her was Jim Cleve; and that fact, in the start for Alder Creek, +made all the difference in the world. + +When they rode out of the narrow defile into the valley the sun was +rising red and bright in a notch of the mountains. Clouds hung over +distant peaks, and the patches of snow in the high canons shone blue +and pink. Smith in the lead turned westward up the valley. Horses +trooped after the cavalcade and had to be driven back. There were +also cattle in the valley, and all these Kells left behind like an +honest rancher who had no fear for his stock. Deer stood off with +long ears pointed forward, watching the horses go by. There were +flocks of quail, and whirring grouse, and bounding jack-rabbits, and +occasionally a brace of sneaking coyotes. These and the wild +flowers, and the waving meadow-grass, the yellow-stemmed willows, +and the patches of alder, all were pleasurable to Joan's eyes and +restful to her mind. + +Smith soon led away from this valley up out of the head of a ravine, +across a rough rock-strewn ridge, down again into a hollow that grew +to be a canon. The trail was bad. Part of the time it was the bottom +of a boulder-strewn brook where the horses slipped on the wet, round +stones. Progress was slow and time passed. For Joan, however, it was +a relief; and the slower they might travel the better she would like +it. At the end of that journey there were Gulden and the others, and +the gold-camp with its illimitable possibilities for such men. + +At noon the party halted for a rest. The camp site was pleasant and +the men were all agreeable. During the meal Kells found occasion to +remark to Cleve: + +"Say youngster, you've brightened up. Must be because of our +prospects over here." + +"Not that so much," replied Cleve. "I quit the whisky. To be honest, +Kells, I was almost seeing snakes." + +"I'm glad you quit. When you're drinking you're wild. I never yet +saw the man who could drink hard and keep his head. I can't. But I +don't drink much." + +His last remark brought a response in laughter. Evidently his +companions thought he was joking. He laughed himself and actually +winked at Joan. + +It happened to be Cleve whom Kells told to saddle Joan's horse, and +as Joan tried the cinches, to see if they were too tight to suit +her, Jim's hand came in contact with hers. That touch was like a +message. Joan was thrilling all over as she looked at Jim, but he +kept his face averted. Perhaps he did not trust his eyes. + +Travel was resumed up the canon and continued steadily, though +leisurely. But the trail was so rough, and so winding, that Joan +believed the progress did not exceed three miles an hour. It was the +kind of travel in which a horse could be helped and that entailed +attention to the lay of the ground. Before Joan realized the hours +were flying, the afternoon had waned. Smith kept on, however, until +nearly dark before halting for camp. + +The evening camp was a scene of activity, and all except Joan had +work to do. She tried to lend a hand, but Wood told her to rest. +This she was glad to do. When called to supper she had almost fallen +asleep. After a long day's ride the business of eating precluded +conversation. Later, however, the men began to talk between puffs on +their pipes, and from the talk no one could have guessed that here +was a band of robbers on their way to a gold camp. Jesse Smith had a +sore foot and he was compared to a tenderfoot on his first ride. +Smith retaliated in kind. Every consideration was shown Joan, and +Wood particularly appeared assiduous in his desire for her comfort. +All the men except Cleve paid her some kind attention; and he, of +course, neglected her because he was afraid to go near her. Again +she felt in Red Pearce a condemnation of the bandit leader who was +dragging a girl over hard trails, making her sleep in the open, +exposing her to danger and to men like himself and Gulden. In his +own estimate Pearce, like every one of his kind, was not so slow as +the others. + +Joan watched and listened from her blankets, under a leafy tree, +some few yards from the camp-fire. Once Kells turned to see how far +distant she was, and then, lowering his voice, he told a story. The +others laughed. Pearce followed with another, and he, too, took care +that Joan could not hear. They grew closer for the mirth, and Smith, +who evidently was a jolly fellow, set them to roaring. Jim Cleve +laughed with them. + +"Say, Jim, you're getting over it," remarked Kells. + +"Over what?" + +Kells paused, rather embarrassed for a reply, as evidently in the +humor of the hour he had spoken a thought better left unsaid. But +there was no more forbidding atmosphere about Cleve. He appeared to +have rounded to good-fellowship after a moody and quarrelsome +drinking spell. + +"Why, over what drove you out here--and gave me a lucky chance at +you," replied Kells, with a constrained laugh. + +"Oh, you mean the girl? ... Sure, I'm getting over that, except when +I drink." + +"Tell us, Jim," said Kells, curiously. + +"Aw, you'll give me the laugh!" retorted Cleve. + +"No, we won't unless your story's funny." + +"You can gamble it wasn't funny," put in Red Pearce. + +They all coaxed him, yet none of them, except Kells, was +particularly curious; it was just that hour when men of their ilk +were lazy and comfortable and full fed and good-humored round the +warm, blazing camp-fire. + +"All right," replied Cleve, and apparently, for all his +complaisance, a call upon memory had its pain. "I'm from Montana. +Range-rider in winter and in summer I prospected. Saved quite a +little money, in spite of a fling now and then at faro and whisky. ... +Yes, there was a girl, I guess yes. She was pretty. I had a bad +case over her. Not long ago I left all I had--money and gold and +things--in her keeping, and I went prospecting again. We were to get +married on my return. I stayed out six months, did well, and got +robbed of all my dust." + +Cleve was telling this fabrication in a matter-of-fact way, growing +a little less frank as he proceeded, and he paused while he lifted +sand and let it drift through his fingers, watching it curiously. +All the men were interested and Kells hung on every word. + +"When I got back," went on Cleve, "my girl had married another +fellow. She'd given him all I left with her. Then I got drunk. While +I was drunk they put up a job on me. It was her word that disgraced +me and run me out of town. ... So I struck west and drifted to the +border." + +"That's not all," said Kells, bluntly. + +"Jim, I reckon you ain't tellin' what you did to thet lyin' girl an' +the feller. How'd you leave them?" added Pearce. + +But Cleve appeared to become gloomy and reticent. + +"Wimmen can hand the double-cross to a man, hey, Kells?" queried +Smith, with a broad grin. + +"By gosh! I thought you'd been treated powerful mean!" exclaimed +Bate Wood, and he was full of wrath. + +"A treacherous woman!" exclaimed Kells, passionately. He had taken +Cleve's story hard. The man must have been betrayed by women, and +Cleve's story had irritated old wounds. + +Directly Kells left the fire and repaired to his blankets, near +where Joan lay. Probably he believed her asleep, for he neither +looked nor spoke. Cleve sought his bed, and likewise Wood and Smith. +Pearce was the last to leave, and as he stood up the light fell upon +his red face, lean and bold like an Indian's. Then he passed Joan, +looking down upon her and then upon the recumbent figure of Kells; +and if his glance was not baleful and malignant, as it swept over +the bandit, Joan believed her imagination must be vividly weird, and +running away with her judgment. + +The next morning began a day of toil. They had to climb over the +mountain divide, a long, flat-topped range of broken rocks. Joan +spared her horse to the limit of her own endurance. If there were a +trail Smith alone knew it, for none was in evidence to the others. +They climbed out of the notched head of the canon, and up a long +slope of weathered shale that let the horses slide back a foot for +every yard gained, and through a labyrinth of broken cliffs, and +over bench and ridge to the height of the divide. From there Joan +had a magnificent view. Foot-hills rolled round heads below, and +miles away, in a curve of the range, glistened Bear Lake. The rest +here at this height was counteracted by the fact that the altitude +affected Joan. She was glad to be on the move again, and now the +travel was downhill, so that she could ride. Still it was difficult, +for horses were more easily lamed in a descent. It took two hours to +descend the distance that had consumed all the morning to ascend. +Smith led through valley after valley between foot-hills, and late +in the afternoon halted by a spring in a timbered spot. + +Joan ached in every muscle and she was too tired to care what +happened round the camp-fire. Jim had been close to her all day and +that had kept up her spirit. It was not yet dark when she lay down +for the night. + +"Sleep well, Dandy Dale," said Kells, cheerfully, yet not without +pathos. "Alder Creek to-morrow! ... Then you'll never sleep again!" + +At times she seemed to feel that he regretted her presence, and +always this fancy came to her with mocking or bantering suggestion +that the costume and mask she wore made her a bandit's consort, and +she could not escape the wildness of this gold-seeking life. The +truth was that Kells saw the insuperable barrier between them, and +in the bitterness of his love he lied to himself, and hated himself +for the lie. + +About the middle of the afternoon of the next day the tired +cavalcade rode down out of the brush and rock into a new, broad, +dusty road. It was so new that the stems of the cut brush along the +borders were still white. But that road had been traveled by a +multitude. + +Out across the valley in the rear Joan saw a canvas-topped wagon, +and she had not ridden far on the road when she saw a bobbing pack- +burros to the fore. Kells had called Wood and Smith and Pearce and +Cleve together, and now they went on in a bunch, all driving the +pack-train. Excitement again claimed Kells; Pearce was alert and +hawk-eyed; Smith looked like a hound on a scent; Cleve showed +genuine feeling. Only Bate Wood remained proof to the meaning of +that broad road. + +All along, on either side, Joan saw wrecks of wagons, wheels, +harness, boxes, old rags of tents blown into the brush, dead mules +and burros. It seemed almost as if an army had passed that way. +Presently the road crossed a wide, shallow brook of water, half +clear and half muddy; and on the other side the road followed the +course of the brook. Joan heard Smith call the stream Alder Creek, +and he asked Kells if he knew what muddied water meant. The bandit's +eyes flashed fire. Joan thrilled, for she, too, knew that up-stream +there were miners washing earth for gold. + +A couple of miles farther on creek and road entered the mouth of a +wide spruce-timbered gulch. These trees hid any view of the slopes +or floor of the gulch, and it was not till several more miles had +been passed that the bandit rode out into what Joan first thought +was a hideous slash in the forest made by fire. But it was only the +devastation wrought by men. As far as she could see the timber was +down, and everywhere began to be manifested signs that led her to +expect habitations. No cabins showed, however, in the next mile. +They passed out of the timbered part of the gulch into one of +rugged, bare, and stony slopes, with bunches of sparse alder here +and there. The gulch turned at right angles and a great gray slope +shut out sight of what lay beyond. But, once round that obstruction, +Kells halted his men with short, tense exclamation. + +Joan saw that she stood high up on the slope, looking down upon the +gold-camp. It was an interesting scene, but not beautiful. To Kells +it must have been so, but to Joan it was even more hideous than the +slash in the forest. Here and there, everywhere, were rude dugouts, +little huts of brush, an occasional tent, and an occasional log +cabin; and as she looked farther and farther these crude habitations +of miners magnified in number and in dimensions till the white and +black broken, mass of the town choked the narrow gulch. + +"Wal, boss, what do you say to thet diggin's?" demanded Jesse Smith. + +Kells drew a deep breath. "Old forty-niner, this beats all I ever +saw!" + +"Shore I've seen Sacramento look like thet!" added Bate Wood. + +Pearce and Cleve gazed with fixed eyes, and, however different their +emotions, they rivaled each other in attention. + +"Jesse, what's the word?" queried Kells, with a sharp return to the +business of the matter. + +"I've picked a site on the other side of camp. Best fer us," he +replied. + +"Shall we keep to the road?" + +"Certain-lee," he returned, with his grin. + +Kells hesitated, and felt of his beard, probably conjecturing the +possibilities of recognition. + +"Whiskers make another man of you. Reckon you needn't expect to be +known over here." + +That decided Kells. He pulled his sombrero well down, shadowing his +face. Then he remembered Joan and made a slight significant gesture +at her mask. + +"Kells, the people in this here camp wouldn't look at an army ridin' +through," responded Smith. "It's every man fer hisself. An' wimmen, +say! there's all kinds. I seen a dozen with veils, an' them's the +same as masks." Nevertheless, Kells had Joan remove the mask and +pull her sombrero down, and instructed her to ride in the midst of +the group. Then they trotted on, soon catching up with the jogging +pack-train. + +What a strange ride that was for Joan! The slope resembled a +magnified ant-hill with a horde of frantic ants in action. As she +drew closer she saw these ants were men, digging for gold. Those +near at hand could be plainly seen--rough, ragged, bearded men and +smooth-faced boys. Farther on and up the slope, along the waterways +and ravines, were miners so close they seemed almost to interfere +with one another. The creek bottom was alive with busy, silent, +violent men, bending over the water, washing and shaking and +paddling, all desperately intent upon something. They had not time +to look up. They were ragged, unkempt, barearmed and bare-legged, +every last one of them with back bent. For a mile or more Kells's +party trotted through this part of the diggings, and everywhere, on +rocky bench and gravel bar and gray slope, were holes with men +picking and shoveling in them. Some were deep and some were shallow; +some long trenches and others mere pits. If all of these prospectors +were finding gold, then gold was everywhere. And presently Joan did +not need to have Kells tell her that all of these diggers were +finding dust. How silent they were--how tense! They were not +mechanical. It was a soul that drove them. Joan had seen many men +dig for gold, and find a little now and then, but she had never seen +men dig when they knew they were going to strike gold. That made the +strange difference. + +Joan calculated she must have seen a thousand miners in less than +two miles of the gulch, and then she could not see up the draws and +washes that intersected the slope, and she could not see beyond the +camp. + +But it was not a camp which she was entering; it was a tent-walled +town, a city of squat log cabins, a long, motley, checkered jumble +of structures thrown up and together in mad haste. The wide road +split it in the middle and seemed a stream of color and life. Joan +rode between two lines of horses, burros, oxen, mules, packs and +loads and canvas-domed wagons and gaudy vehicles resembling gipsy +caravans. The street was as busy as a beehive and as noisy as a +bedlam. The sidewalks were rough-hewn planks and they rattled under +the tread of booted men. There were tents on the ground and tents on +floors and tents on log walls. And farther on began the lines of +cabins-stores and shops and saloons--and then a great, square, flat +structure with a flaring sign in crude gold letters, "Last Nugget," +from which came the creak of iddles and scrape of boots, and hoarse +mirth. Joan saw strange, wild-looking creatures--women that made her +shrink; and several others of her sex, hurrying along, carrying +sacks or buckets, worn and bewildered-looking women, the sight of +whom gave her a pang. She saw lounging Indians and groups of lazy, +bearded men, just like Kells's band, and gamblers in long, black +coats, and frontiersmen in fringed buckskin, and Mexicans with +swarthy faces under wide, peaked sombreros; and then in great +majority, dominating that stream of life, the lean and stalwart +miners, of all ages, in their check shirts and high boots, all +packing guns, jostling along, dark-browed, somber, and intent. These +last were the workers of this vast beehive; the others were the +drones, the parasites. + +Kell's party rode on through the town, and Smith halted them beyond +the outskirts, near a grove of spruce-trees, where camp was to be +made. + +Joan pondered over her impression of Alder Creek. It was confused; +she had seen too much. But out of what she had seen and heard loomed +two contrasting features: a throng of toiling miners, slaves to +their lust for gold and actuated by ambitions, hopes, and aims, +honest, rugged, tireless workers, but frenzied in that strange +pursuit; and a lesser crowd, like leeches, living for and off the +gold they did not dig with blood of hand and sweat of brow. + +Manifestly Jesse Smith had selected the spot for Kells's permanent +location at Alder Creek with an eye for the bandit's peculiar needs. +It was out of sight of town, yet within a hundred rods of the +nearest huts, and closer than that to a sawmill. It could be +approached by a shallow ravine that wound away toward the creek. It +was backed up against a rugged bluff in which there was a narrow +gorge, choked with pieces of weathered cliff; and no doubt the +bandits could go and come in that direction. There was a spring near +at hand and a grove of spruce-trees. The ground was rocky, and +apparently unfit for the digging of gold. + +While Bate Wood began preparations for supper, and Cleve built the +fire, and Smith looked after the horses, Kells and Pearce stepped +off the ground where the cabin was to be erected. They selected a +level bench down upon which a huge cracked rock, as large as a +house, had rolled. The cabin was to be backed up against this stone, +and in the rear, under cover of it, a secret exit could be made and +hidden. The bandit wanted two holes to his burrow. + +When the group sat down to the meal the gulch was full of sunset +colors. And, strangely, they were all some shade of gold. Beautiful +golden veils, misty, ethereal, shone in rays across the gulch from +the broken ramparts; and they seemed so brilliant, so rich, +prophetic of the treasures of the hills. But that golden sunset +changed. The sun went down red, leaving a sinister shadow over the +gulch, growing darker and darker. Joan saw Cleve thoughtfully +watching this transformation, and she wondered if he had caught the +subtle mood of nature. For whatever had been the hope and +brightness, the golden glory of this new Eldorado, this sudden +uprising Alder Creek with its horde of brave and toiling miners, the +truth was that Jack Kells and Gulden had ridden into the camp and +the sun had gone down red. Joan knew that great mining-camps were +always happy, rich, free, lucky, honest places till the fame of gold +brought evil men. And she had not the slightest doubt that the sun +of Alder Creek's brief and glad day had set forever. + +Twilight was stealing down from the hills when Kells announced to +his party: "Bate, you and Jesse keep camp. Pearce, you look out for +any of the gang. But meet in the dark! ... Cleve, you can go with +me." Then he turned to Joan. "Do you want to go with us to see the +sights or would you rather stay here?" + +"I'd like to go, if only I didn't look so--so dreadful in this +suit," she replied. + +Kells laughed, and the camp-fire glare lighted the smiling faces of +Pearce and Smith. + +"Why, you'll not be seen. And you look far from dreadful." + +"Can't you give me a--a longer coat?" faltered Joan. + +Cleve heard, and without speaking he went to his saddle and unrolled +his pack. Inside a slicker he had a gray coat. Joan had seen it many +a time, and it brought a pang with memories of Hoadley. Had that +been years ago? Cleve handed this coat to Joan. + +"Thank you," she said. + +Kells held the coat for her and she slipped into it. She seemed lost. +It was long, coming way below her hips, and for the first time in +days she felt she was Joan Randle again. + +"Modesty is all very well in a woman, but it's not always becoming," +remarked Kells. "Turn up your collar. ... Pull down your hat-- +farther--There! If you won't go as a youngster now I'll eat Dandy +Dale's outfit and get you silk dresses. Ha-ha!" + +Joan was not deceived by his humor. He might like to look at her in +that outrageous bandit costume; it might have pleased certain vain +and notoriety-seeking proclivities of his, habits of his California +road-agent days; but she felt that notwithstanding this, once she +had donned the long coat he was relieved and glad in spite of +himself. Joan had a little rush of feeling. Sometimes she almost +liked this bandit. Once he must have been something very different. + +They set out, Joan between Kells and Cleve. How strange for her! She +had daring enough to feel for Jim's hand in the dark and to give it +a squeeze. Then he nearly broke her fingers. She felt the fire in +him. It was indeed a hard situation for him. The walking was rough, +owing to the uneven road and the stones. Several times Joan stumbled +and her spurs jangled. They passed ruddy camp-fires, where steam and +smoke arose with savory odors, where red-faced men were eating; and +they passed other camp-fires, burned out and smoldering. Some tents +had dim lights, throwing shadows on the canvas, and others were +dark. There were men on the road, all headed for town, gay, noisy +and profane. + +Then Joan saw uneven rows of lights, some dim and some bright, and +crossing before them were moving dark figures. Again Kells bethought +himself of his own disguise, and buried his chin in his scarf and +pulled his wide-brimmed hat down so that hardly a glimpse of his +face could be seen. Joan could not have recognized him at the +distance of a yard. + +They walked down the middle of the road, past the noisy saloons, +past the big, flat structure with its sign "Last Nugget" and its +open windows, where shafts of light shone forth, and all the way +down to the end of town. Then Kells turned back. He scrutinized each +group of men he met. He was looking for members of his Border +Legion. Several times he left Cleve and Joan standing in the road +while he peered into saloons. At these brief intervals Joan looked +at Cleve with all her heart in her eyes. He never spoke. He seemed +under a strain. Upon the return, when they reached the Last Nugget, +Kells said: + +"Jim, hang on to her like grim death! She's worth more than all the +gold in Alder Creek!" + +Then they started for the door. + +Joan clung to Cleve on one side, and on the other, instinctively +with a frightened girl's action, she let go Kells's arm and slipped +her hand in his. He seemed startled. He bent to her ear, for the din +made ordinary talk indistinguishable. That involuntary hand in his +evidently had pleased and touched him, even hurt him, for his +whisper was husky. + +"It's all right--you're perfectly safe." + +First Joan made out a glare of smoky lamps, a huge place full of +smoke and men and sounds. Kells led the way slowly. He had his own +reason for observance. There was a stench that sickened Joan--a +blended odor of tobacco and rum and wet sawdust and smoking oil. +There was a noise that appeared almost deafening--the loud talk and +vacant laughter of drinking men, and a din of creaky fiddles and +scraping boots and boisterous mirth. This last and dominating sound +came from an adjoining room, which Joan could see through a wide +opening. There was dancing, but Joan could not see the dancers +because of the intervening crowd. Then her gaze came back to the +features nearer at hand. Men and youths were lined up to a long bar +nearly as high as her head. Then there were excited shouting groups +round gambling games. There were men in clusters, sitting on +upturned kegs, round a box for a table, and dirty bags of gold-dust +were in evidence. The gamblers at the cards were silent, in strange +contrast with the others; and in each group was at least one dark- +garbed, hard-eyed gambler who was not a miner. Joan saw boys not yet +of age, flushed and haggard, wild with the frenzy of winning and +cast down in defeat. There were jovial, grizzled, old prospectors to +whom this scene and company were pleasant reminders of bygone days. +There were desperados whose glittering eyes showed they had no gold +with which to gamble. + +Joan suddenly felt Kells start and she believed she heard a low, +hissing exclamation. And she looked for the cause. Then she saw +familiar dark faces; they belonged to men of Kells's Legion. And +with his broad back to her there sat the giant Gulden. Already he +and his allies had gotten together in defiance of or indifference to +Kells's orders. Some of them were already under the influence of +drink, but, though they saw Kells, they gave no sign of recognition. +Gulden did not see Joan, and for that she was thankful. And whether +or not his presence caused it, the fact was that she suddenly felt +as much of a captive as she had in Cabin Gulch, and feared that here +escape would be harder because in a community like this Kells would +watch her closely. + +Kells led Joan and Cleve from one part of the smoky hall to another, +and they looked on at the games and the strange raw life manifested +there. The place was getting packed with men. Kells's party +encountered Blicky and Beady Jones together. They passed by as +strangers. Then Joan saw Beard and Chick Williams arm in arm, +strolling about, like roystering miners. Williams telegraphed a +keen, fleeting glance at Kells, then went on, to be lost in the +crowd. Handy Oliver brushed by Kells, jostled him, apparently by +accident, and he said, "Excuse me, mister!" There were other +familiar faces. Kells's gang were all in Alder Creek and the dark +machinations of the bandit leader had been put into operation. What +struck Joan forcibly was that, though there were hilarity and +comradeship, they were not manifested in any general way. These +miners were strangers to one another; the groups were strangers; the +gamblers were strangers; the newcomers were strangers; and over all +hung an atmosphere of distrust. Good fellowship abided only in the +many small companies of men who stuck together. The mining-camps +that Joan had visited had been composed of an assortment of +prospectors and hunters who made one big, jolly family. This was a +gold strike, and the difference was obvious. The hunting for gold +was one thing, in its relation to the searchers; after it had been +found, in a rich field, the conditions of life and character +changed. Gold had always seemed wonderful and beautiful to Joan; she +absorbed here something that was the nucleus of hate. Why could not +these miners, young and old, stay in their camps and keep their +gold? That was the fatality. The pursuit was a dream--a glittering +allurement; the possession incited a lust for more, and that was +madness. Joan felt that in these reckless, honest miners there was a +liberation of the same wild element which was the driving passion of +Kells's Border Legion. Gold, then, was a terrible thing. + +"Take me in there," said Joan, conscious of her own excitement, and +she indicated the dance-hall. + +Kells laughed as if at her audacity. But he appeared reluctant. + +"Please take me--unless--" Joan did not know what to add, but she +meant unless it was not right for her to see any more. A strange +curiosity had stirred in her. After all, this place where she now +stood was not greatly different from the picture imagination had +conjured up. That dance-hall, however, was beyond any creation of +Joan's mind. + +"Let me have a look first," said Kells, and he left Joan with Cleve. + +When he had gone Joan spoke without looking at Cleve, though she +held fast to his arm. + +"Jim, it could be dreadful here--all in a minute!" she whispered. + +"You've struck it exactly," he replied. "All Alder Creek needed to +make it hell was Kells and his gang." + +"Thank Heaven I turned you back in time! ... Jim, you'd have--have +gone the pace here." + +He nodded grimly. Then Kells returned and led them back through the +room to another door where spectators were fewer. Joan saw perhaps a +dozen couples of rough, whirling, jigging dancers in a half-circle +of watching men. The hall was a wide platform of boards with posts +holding a canvas roof. The sides, were open; the lights were +situated at each end-huge, round, circus tent lamps. There were rude +benches and tables where reeling men surrounded a woman. Joan saw a +young miner in dusty boots and corduroys lying drunk or dead in the +sawdust. Her eyes were drawn back to the dancers, and to the dance +that bore some semblance to a waltz. In the din the music could +scarcely be heard. As far as the men were concerned this dance was a +bold and violent expression of excitement on the part of some, and +for the rest a drunken, mad fling. Sight of the women gave Joan's +curiosity a blunt check. She felt queer. She had not seen women like +these, and their dancing, their actions, their looks, were beyond +her understanding. Nevertheless, they shocked her, disgusted her, +sickened her. And suddenly when it dawned upon her in unbelievable +vivid suggestion that they were the wildest and most terrible +element of this dark stream of humanity lured by gold, then she was +appalled. + +"Take me out of here!" she besought Kells, and he led her out +instantly. They went through the gambling-hall and into the crowded +street, back toward camp. + +"You saw enough," said Kells, "but nothing to what will break out by +and by. This camp is new. It's rich. Gold is the cheapest thing. It +passes from hand to hand. Ten dollars an ounce. Buyers don't look at +the scales. Only the gamblers are crooked. But all this will +change." + +Kells did not say what that change might be, but the click of his +teeth was expressive. Joan did not, however, gather from it, and the +dark meaning of his tone, that the Border Legion would cause this +change. That was in the nature of events. A great strike of gold +might enrich the world, but it was a catastrophe. + +Long into the night Joan lay awake, and at times, stirring the +silence, there was wafted to her on a breeze the low, strange murmur +of the gold-camp's strife. + +Joan slept late next morning, and was awakened by the unloading of +lumber. Teams were drawing planks from the sawmill. Already a +skeleton framework for Kells's cabin had been erected. Jim Cleve was +working with the others, and they were sacrificing thoroughness to +haste. Joan had to cook her own breakfast, which task was welcome, +and after it had been finished she wished for something more to +occupy her mind. But nothing offered. Finding a comfortable seat +among some rocks where she would be inconspicuous, she looked on at +the building of Kells's cabin. It seemed strange, and somehow +comforting, to watch Jim Cleve work. He had never been a great +worker. Would this experience on the border make a man of him? She +felt assured of that. + +If ever a cabin sprang up like a mushroom, that bandit rendezvous +was the one. Kells worked himself, and appeared no mean hand. By +noon the roof of clapboards was on, and the siding of the same +material had been started. Evidently there was not to a be a +fireplace inside. + +Then a teamster drove up with a wagon-load of purchases Kells had +ordered. Kells helped unload this and evidently was in search of +articles. Presently he found them, and then approached Joan, to +deposit before her an assortment of bundles little and big. + +"There Miss Modestly," he said. "Make yourself some clothes. You can +shake Dandy Dale's outfit, except when we're on the trail. ... And, +say, if you knew what I had to pay for this stuff you'd think there +was a bigger robber in Alder Creek than Jack Kells. ... And, come to +think of it, my name's now Blight. You're my daughter, if any one +asks." Joan was so grateful to him for the goods and the permission +to get out of Dandy Dale's suit as soon as possible, that she could +only smile her thanks. Kells stared at her, then turned abruptly +away. Those little unconscious acts of hers seemed to affect him +strangely. Joan remembered that he had intended to parade her in +Dandy Dale's costume to gratify some vain abnormal side of his +bandit's proclivities. He had weakened. Here was another subtle +indication of the deterioration of the evil of him. How far would it +go? Joan thought dreamily, and with a swelling heart, of her +influence upon this hardened bandit, upon that wild boy, Jim Cleve. + +All that afternoon, and part of the evening in the campfire light, +and all of the next day Joan sewed, so busy that she scarcely lifted +her eyes from her work. The following day she finished her dress, +and with no little pride, for she had both taste and skill. Of the +men, Bate Wood had been most interested in her task; and he would +let things burn on the fire to watch her. + +That day the rude cabin was completed. It contained one long room; +and at the back a small compartment partitioned off from the rest, +and built against and around a shallow cavern in the huge rock. This +compartment was for Joan. There were a rude board door with padlock +and key, a bench upon which blankets had been flung, a small square +hole cut in the wall to serve as a window. What with her own few +belongings and the articles of furniture that Kells bought for her, +Joan soon had a comfortable room, even a luxury compared to what she +had been used to for weeks. Certain it was that Kells meant to keep +her a prisoner, or virtually so. Joan had no sooner spied the little +window than she thought that it would be possible for Jim Cleve to +talk to her there from the outside. + +Kells verified Joan's suspicion by telling her that she was not to +leave the cabin of her own accord, as she had been permitted to do +back in Cabin Gulch; and Joan retorted that there she had made him a +promise not to run away, which promise she now took back. That +promise had worried her. She was glad to be honest with Kells. He +gazed at her somberly. + +"You'll be worse off it you do--and I'll be better off," he said. +And then as an afterthought he added: "Gulden might not think you--a +white elephant on his hands! ... Remember his way, the cave and the +rope!" + +So, instinctively or cruelly he chose the right name to bring +shuddering terror into Joan's soul. + + + + +14 + +Joan's opportunity for watching Kells and his men and overhearing +their colloquies was as good as it had been back in Cabin Gulch. But +it developed that where Kells had been open and frank he now became +secret and cautious. She was aware that men, singly and in couples, +visited him during the early hours of the night, and they had +conferences in low, earnest tones. She could peer out of her little +window and see dark, silent forms come up from the ravine at the +back of the cabin, and leave the same way. None of them went round +to the front door, where Bate Wood smoked and kept guard. Joan was +able to hear only scraps of these earnest talks; and from part of +one she gathered that for some reason or other Kells desired to +bring himself into notice. Alder Creek must be made to know that a +man of importance had arrived. It seemed to Joan that this was the +very last thing which Kells ought to do. What magnificent daring the +bandit had! Famous years before in California--with a price set upon +his life in Nevada--and now the noted, if unknown, leader of border +robbers in Idaho, he sought to make himself prominent, respected, +and powerful. Joan found that in spite of her horror at the sinister +and deadly nature of the bandit's enterprise she could not avoid an +absorbing interest in his fortunes. + +Next day Joan watched for an opportunity to tell Jim Cleve that he +might come to her little window any time after dark to talk and plan +with her. No chance presented itself. Joan wore the dress she had +made, to the evident pleasure of Bate Wood and Pearce. They had +conceived as strong an interest in her fortunes as she had in +Kells's. Wood nodded his approval and Pearce said she was a lady +once more. Strange it was to Joan that this villain Pearce, whom she +could not have dared trust, grew open in his insinuating hints of +Kells's blackguardism. Strange because Pearce was absolutely +sincere! + +When Jim Cleve did see Joan in her dress the first time he appeared +so glad and relieved and grateful that she feared he might betray +himself, so she got out of his sight. + +Not long after that Kells called her from her room. He wore his +somber and thoughtful cast of countenance. Red Pearce and Jesse +Smith were standing at attention. Cleve was sitting on the threshold +of the door and Wood leaned against the wall. + +"Is there anything in the pack of stuff I bought you that you could +use for a veil?" asked Kells of Joan. + +"Yes," she replied. + +"Get it," he ordered. "And your hat, too." + +Joan went to her room and returned with the designated articles, the +hat being that which she had worn when she left Hoadley. + +"That'll do. Put it on--over your face--and let's see how you look." + +Joan complied with this request, all the time wondering what Kells +meant. + +"I want it to disguise you, but not to hide your youth--your good +looks," he said, and he arranged it differently about her face. +"There! ... You'd sure make any man curious to see you now. ... Put +on the hat." + +Joan did so. Then Kells appeared to become more forcible. + +"You're to go down into the town. Walk slow as far as the Last +Nugget. Cross the road and come back. Look at every man you meet or +see standing by. Don't be in the least frightened. Pearce and Smith +will be right behind you. They'd get to you before anything could +happen. ... Do you understand?" + +"Yes," replied Joan. + +Red Pearce stirred uneasily. "Jack, I'm thinkin' some rough talk'll +come her way," he said, darkly. + +"Will you shut up!" replied Kells in quick passion. He resented some +implication. "I've thought of that. She won't hear what's said to +her. ... Here," and he turned again to Joan, "take some cotton--or +anything--and stuff up your ears. Make a good job of it." + +Joan went back to her room and, looking about for something with +which to execute Kells's last order, she stripped some soft, woolly +bits from a fleece-lined piece of cloth. With these she essayed to +deaden her hearing. Then she returned. Kells spoke to her, but, +though she seemed dully to hear his voice, she could not distinguish +what he said. She shook her head. With that Kells waved her out upon +her strange errand. + +Joan brushed against Cleve as she crossed the threshold. What would +he think of this? She would not see his face. When she reached the +first tents she could not resist the desire to look back. Pearce was +within twenty yards of her and Smith about the same distance farther +back. Joan was more curious than anything else. She divined that +Kells wanted her to attract attention, but for what reason she was +at a loss to say. It was significant that he did not intend to let +her suffer any indignity while fulfilling this mysterious mission. + +Not until Joan got well down the road toward the Last Nugget did any +one pay any attention to her. A Mexican jabbered at her, showing his +white teeth, flashing his sloe-black eyes. Young miners eyed her +curiously, and some of them spoke. She met all kinds of men along +the plank walk, most of whom passed by, apparently unobserving. She +obeyed Kells to the letter. But for some reason she was unable to +explain, when she got to the row of saloons, where lounging, evil- +eyed rowdies accosted her, she found she had to disobey him, at +least in one particular. She walked faster. Still that did not make +her task much easier. It began to be an ordeal. The farther she got +the bolder men grew. Could it have been that Kells wanted this sort +of thing to happen to her? Joan had no idea what these men meant, +but she believed that was because for the time being she was deaf. +Assuredly their looks were not a compliment to any girl. Joan wanted +to hurry now, and she had to force herself to walk at a reasonable +gait. One persistent fellow walked beside her for several steps. +Joan was not fool enough not to realize now that these wayfarers +wanted to make her acquaintance. And she decided she would have +something to say to Kells when she got back. + +Below the Last Nugget she crossed the road and started upon the +return trip. In front of this gambling-hell there were scattered +groups of men, standing, and going in. A tall man in black detached +himself and started out, as if to intercept her. He wore a long +black coat, a black bow tie, and a black sombrero. He had little, +hard, piercing eyes, as black as his dress. He wore gloves and +looked immaculate, compared with the other men. He, too, spoke to +Joan, turned to walk with her. She looked straight ahead now, +frightened, and she wanted to run. He kept beside her, apparently +talking. Joan heard only the low sound of his voice. Then he took +her arm, gently, but with familiarity. Joan broke from him and +quickened her pace. + +"Say, there! Leave thet girl alone!" + +This must have been yelled, for Joan certainly heard it. She +recognized Red Pearce's voice. And she wheeled to look. Pearce had +overhauled the gambler, and already men were approaching. +Involuntarily Joan halted. What would happen? The gambler spoke to +Pearce, made what appeared deprecating gestures, as if to explain. +But Pearce looked angry. + +"I'll tell her daddy!" he shouted. + +Joan waited for no more. She almost ran. There would surely be a +fight. Could that have been Kells's intention? Whatever it was, she +had been subjected to a mortifying and embarrassing affront. She was +angry, and she thought it might be just as well to pretend to be +furious. Kells must not use her for his nefarious schemes. She +hurried on, and, to her surprise, when she got within sight of the +cabin both Pearce and Smith had almost caught up with her. Jim Cleve +sat where she had last seen him. Also Kells was outside. The way he +strode to and fro showed Joan his anxiety. There was more to this +incident than she could fathom. She took the padding from her ears, +to her intense relief, and, soon reaching the cabin, she tore off +the veil and confronted Kells. + +"Wasn't that a--a fine thing for you to do?" she demanded, +furiously. And with the outburst she felt her face blazing. "If I'd +any idea what you meant--you couldn't--have driven me! ... I trusted +you. And you sent me down there on some--shameful errand of yours. +You're no gentleman!" + +Joan realized that her speech, especially the latter part, was +absurd. But it had a remarkable effect upon Kells. His face actually +turned red. He stammered something and halted, seemingly at a loss +for words. How singularly the slightest hint of any act or word of +hers that approached a possible respect or tolerance worked upon +this bandit! He started toward Joan appealingly, but she passed him +in contempt and went to her room. She heard him cursing Pearce in a +rage, evidently blaming his lieutenant for whatever had angered her. + +"But you wanted her insulted!" protested Pearce, hotly. + +"You mullet-head!" roared Kells. "I wanted some man--any man--to get +just near enough to her so I could swear she'd been insulted. You +let her go through that camp to meet real insult! ... Why--! Pearce, +I've a mind to shoot you!" + +"Shoot!" retorted Pearce. "I obeyed orders as I saw them. ... An' I +want to say right here thet when it comes to anythin' concernin' +this girl you're plumb off your nut. That's what. An' you can like +it or lump it! I said before you'd split over this girl. An' I say +it now!" + +Through the door Joan had a glimpse of Cleve stepping between the +angry men. This seemed unnecessary, however, for Pearce's stinging +assertion had brought Kells to himself. There were a few more words, +too low for Joan's ears, and then, accompanied by Smith, the three +started off, evidently for the camp. Joan left her room and watched +them from the cabin door. Bate Wood sat outside smoking. + +"I'm declarin' my hand," he said to Joan, feelingly. "I'd never hev +stood for thet scurvy trick. Now, miss, this's the toughest camp I +ever seen. I mean tough as to wimmen! For it ain't begun to fan guns +an' steal gold yet." + +"Why did Kells want me insulted?" asked Joan. + +"Wal, he's got to hev a reason for raisin' an orful fuss," replied +Wood. + +"Fuss?" + +"Shore," replied Wood, dryly. + +"What for?" + +"Jest so he can walk out on the stage," rejoined Wood, evasively. + +"It's mighty strange," said Joan. + +"I reckon all about Mr. Kells is some strange these days. Red Pearce +had it correct. Kells is a-goin' to split on you!" + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Wal, he'll go one way an' the gang another." + +"Why?" asked Joan, earnestly. + +"Miss, there's some lot of reasons," said Wood, deliberately. "Fust, +he did for Halloway an' Bailey, not because they wanted to treat you +as he meant to, but just because he wanted to be alone. We're all +wise thet you shot him--an' thet you wasn't his wife. An' since then +we've seen him gradually lose his nerve. He organized his Legion an' +makes his plan to run this Alder Creek red. He still hangs on to +you. He'd kill any man thet batted an eye at you. ... An' through +all this, because he's not Jack Kells of old, he's lost his pull +with the gang. Sooner or later he'll split." + +"Have I any real friends among you?" asked Joan. + +"Wal, I reckon." + +"Are you my friend, Bate Wood?" she went on in sweet wistfulness. + +The grizzled old bandit removed his pipe and looked at her with a +glint in his bloodshot eyes, + +"I shore am. I'll sneak you off now if you'll go. I'll stick a knife +in Kells if you say so." + +"Oh, no, I'm afraid to run off--and you needn't harm Kells. After +all, he's good to me." + +"Good to you! ... When he keeps you captive like an Indian would? +When he's given me orders to watch you--keep you locked up?" + +Wood's snort of disgust and wrath was thoroughly genuine. Still Joan +knew that she dared not trust him, any more than Pearce or the +others. Their raw emotions would undergo a change if Kells's +possession of her were transferred to them. It occurred to Joan, +however, that she might use Wood's friendliness to some advantage. + +"So I'm to be locked up?" she asked. + +"You're supposed to be." + +"Without any one to talk to?" + +"Wal, you'll hev me, when you want. I reckon thet ain't much to look +forward to. But I can tell you a heap of stories. An' when Kells +ain't around, if you're careful not to get me ketched, you can do as +you want." + +"Thank you, Bate. I'm going to like you," replied Joan, sincerely, +and then she went back to her room. There was sewing to do, and +while she worked she thought, so that the hours sped. When the light +got so poor that she could sew no longer she put the work aside and +stood at her little window, watching the sunset. From the front of +the cabin came the sound of subdued voices. Probably Kells and his +men had returned, and she was sure of this when she heard the ring +of Bate Wood's ax. + +All at once an object darker than the stones arrested Joan's gaze. +There was a man sitting on the far side of the little ravine. +Instantly she recognized Jim Cleve. He was looking at the little +window--at her. Joan believed he was there for just that purpose. +Making sure that no one else was near to see, she put out her hand +and waved it. Jim gave a guarded perceptible sign that he had +observed her action, and almost directly got up and left. Joan +needed no more than that to tell her how Jim's idea of communicating +with her corresponded with her own. That night she would talk with +him and she was thrilled through. The secrecy, the peril, somehow +lent this prospect a sweetness, a zest, a delicious fear. Indeed, +she was not only responding to love, but to daring, to defiance, to +a wilder nameless element born of her environment and the needs of +the hour. + +Presently, Bate Wood called her in to supper. Pearce, Smith, and +Cleve were finding seats at the table, but Kells looked rather sick. +Joan observed him then more closely. His face was pale and damp, +strangely shaded as if there were something dark under the pale +skin. Joan had never seen him appear like this, and she shrank as +from another and forbidding side of the man. Pearce and Smith acted +naturally, ate with relish, and talked about the gold-diggings. +Cleve, however, was not as usual; and Joan could not quite make out +what constituted the dissimilarity. She hurried through her own +supper and back to her room. + +Already it was dark outside. Joan lay down to listen and wait. It +seemed long, but probably was not long before she heard the men go +outside, and the low thump of their footsteps as they went away. +Then came the rattle and bang of Bate Wood's attack on the pans and +pots. Bate liked to cook, but he hated to clean up afterward. By and +by he settled down outside for his evening smoke and there was +absolute quiet. Then Joan rose to stand at the window. She could see +the dark mass of rock overhanging the cabin, the bluff beyond, and +the stars. For the rest all was gloom. + +She did not have to wait long. A soft step, almost +indistinguishable, made her pulse beat quicker. She put her face out +of the window, and on the instant a dark form seemed to loom up to +meet her out of the shadow. She could not recognize that shape, yet +she knew it belonged to Cleve. + +"Joan," he whispered. + +"Jim," she replied, just as low and gladly. + +He moved closer, so that the hand she had gropingly put out touched +him, then seemed naturally to slip along his shoulder, round his +neck. And his face grew clearer in the shadow. His lips met hers, +and Joan closed her eyes to that kiss. What hope, what strength for +him and for her now in that meeting of lips! + +"Oh, Jim! I'm so glad--to have you near--to touch you," she +whispered. + +"Do you love me still?" he whispered back, tensely. + +"Still? More--more!" + +"Say it, then." + +"Jim, I love you!" + +And their lips met again and clung, and it was he who drew back +first. + +"Dearest, why didn't you let me make a break to get away with you-- +before we came to this camp?" + +"Oh, Jim, I told you. I was afraid. We'd have been caught. And +Gulden--" + +"We'll never have half the chance here. Kells means to keep you +closely guarded. I heard the order. He's different now. He's grown +crafty and hard. And the miners of this Alder Creek! Why, I'm more +afraid to trust them than men like Wood or Pearce. They've gone +clean crazy. Gold-mad! If you shouted for your life they wouldn't +hear you. And if you could make them hear they wouldn't believe. +This camp has sprung up in a night. It's not like any place I ever +heard of. It's not human. It's so strange--so--Oh, I don't know what +to say. I think I mean that men in a great gold strike become like +coyotes at a carcass. You've seen that. No relation at all!" + +"I'm frightened, too, Jim. I wish I'd had the courage to run when we +were back in Cabin Gulch, But don't ever give up, not for a second! +We can get away. We must plan and wait. Find out where we are--how +far from Hoadley--what we must expect--whether it's safe to approach +any one in this camp." + +"Safe! I guess not, after to-day," he whispered, grimly. + +"Why? What's happened?" she asked quickly. + +"Joan, have you guessed yet why Kells sent you down into camp +alone?" + +"No." + +"Listen. ... I went with Kells and Smith and Pearce. They hurried +straight to the Last Nugget. There was a crowd of men in front of +the place. Pearce walked straight up to one--a gambler by his +clothes. And he said in a loud voice. 'Here's the man!' ... The +gambler looked startled, turned pale, and went for his gun. But +Kells shot him! ... He fell dead, without a word. There was a big +shout, then silence. Kells stood there with his smoking gun. I never +saw the man so cool--so masterful. Then he addressed the crowd: +'This gambler insulted my daughter! My men here saw him. My name's +Blight. I came here to buy up gold claims. And I want to say this: +Your Alder Creek has got the gold. But it needs some of your best +citizens to run it right, so a girl can be safe on the street.'" + +"Joan, I tell you it was a magnificent bluff," went on Jim, +excitedly. "And it worked. Kells walked away amid cheers. He meant +to give an impression of character and importance. He succeeded. So +far as I could tell, there wasn't a man present who did not show +admiration for him. I saw that dead gambler kicked." + +"Jim!" breathed Joan. "He killed him--just for that?" + +"Just for that--the bloody devil!" + +"But still--what for? Oh, it was cold-blooded murder." + +"No, an even break. Kells made the gambler go for his gun. I'll have +to say that for Kells." + +"It doesn't change the thing. I'd forgotten what a monster he is." + +"Joan, his motive is plain. This new gold-camp has not reached the +blood-spilling stage yet. It hadn't, I should say. The news of this +killing will fly. It'll focus minds on this claim-buyer, Blight. His +deed rings true--like that of an honest man with a daughter to +protect. He'll win sympathy. Then he talks as if he were prosperous. +Soon he'll be represented in this changing, growing population as a +man of importance. He'll play the card for all he's worth. +Meanwhile, secretly he'll begin to rob the miners. It'll be hard to +suspect him. His plot is just like the man--great!" + +"Jim, oughtn't we tell?" whispered Joan, trembling. + +"I've thought of that. Somehow I seem to feel guilty. But whom on +earth could we tell? We wouldn't dare speak here. ... Remember-- +you're a prisoner. I'm supposed to be a bandit--one of the Border +Legion. How to get away from here and save our lives--that's what +tortures me." + +"Something tells me we'll escape, if only we can plan the right way. +Jim, I'll have to be penned here, with nothing to do but wait. You +must come every night! ... Won't you?" + +For an answer he kissed her again. + +"Jim, what'll you do meanwhile?" she asked, anxiously. + +"I'm going to work a claim. Dig for gold. I told Kells so to-day, +and he was delighted. He said he was afraid his men wouldn't like +the working part of his plan. It's hard to dig gold. Easy to steal +it. But I'll dig a hole as big as a hill! ... Wouldn't it be funny +if I struck it rich?" + +"Jim, you're getting the fever." + +"Joan, if I did happen to run into a gold-pocket--there're lots of +them found--would--you--marry me?" + +The tenderness, the timidity, and the yearning in Cleve's voice told +Joan as never before how he had hoped and feared and despaired. She +patted his cheek with her hand, and in the darkness, with her heart +swelling to make up for what she had done to him, she felt a +boldness and a recklessness, sweet, tumultuous, irresistible. + +"Jim, I'll marry you--whether you strike gold or not," she +whispered. + +And there was another blind, sweet moment. Then Cleve tore himself +away, and Joan leaned at the window, watching the shadow, with tears +in her eyes and an ache in her breast. + +From that day Joan lived a life of seclusion in the small room. +Kells wanted it so, and Joan thought best for the time being not to +take advantage of Bate Wood's duplicity. Her meals were brought to +her by Wood, who was supposed to unlock and lock her door. But Wood +never turned the key in that padlock. + +Prisoner though Joan was, the days and nights sped swiftly. + +Kells was always up till late in the night and slept half of the +next morning. It was his wont to see Joan every day about noon. He +had a care for his appearance. When he came in he was dark, +forbidding, weary, and cold. Manifestly he came to her to get rid of +the imponderable burden of the present. He left it behind him. He +never spoke a word of Alder Creek, of gold, of the Border Legion. +Always he began by inquiring for her welfare, by asking what he +could do for her, what he could bring her. Joan had an abhorrence of +Keils in his absence that she never felt when he was with her; and +the reason must have been that she thought of him, remembered him as +the bandit, and saw him as another and growing character. Always +mindful of her influence, she was as companionable, as sympathetic, +as cheerful, and sweet as it was possible for her to be. Slowly he +would warm and change under her charm, and the grim gloom, the dark +strain, would pass from him. When that left he was indeed another +person. Frankly he told Joan that the glimpse of real love she had +simulated back there in Cabin Gulch was seldom out of his mind. No +woman had ever kissed him like she had. That kiss had transfigured +him. It haunted him. If he could not win kisses like that from +Joan's lips, of her own free will, then he wanted none. No other +woman's lips would ever touch his. And he begged Joan in the +terrible earnestness of a stern and hungering outcast for her love. +And Joan could only sadly shake her head and tell him she was sorry +for him, that the more she really believed he loved her the surer +she was that he would give her up. Then always he passionately +refused. He must have her to keep, to look at as his treasure, to +dream over, and hope against hope that she would love him some day. +Women sometimes learned to love their captors, he said; and if she +only learned, then he would take her away to Australia, to distant +lands. But most of all he begged her to show him again what it meant +to be loved by a good woman. And Joan, who knew that her power now +lay in her unattainableness, feigned a wavering reluctance, when in +truth any surrender was impossible. He left her with a spirit that +her presence gave him, in a kind of trance, radiant, yet with +mocking smile, as if he foresaw the overthrow of his soul through +her, and in the light of that his waning power over his Legion was +as nothing. + +In the afternoon he went down into camp to strengthen the +associations he had made, to buy claims, and to gamble. Upon his +return Joan, peeping through a crack between the boards, could +always tell whether he had been gambling, whether he had won or +lost. + +Most of the evenings he remained in his cabin, which after dark +became a place of mysterious and stealthy action. The members of his +Legion visited him, sometimes alone, never more than two together. +Joan could hear them slipping in at the hidden aperture in the back +of the cabin; she could hear the low voices, but seldom what was +said; she could hear these night prowlers as they departed. +Afterward Kells would have the lights lit, and then Joan could see +into the cabin. Was that dark, haggard man Kells? She saw him take +little buckskin sacks full of gold-dust and hide them under the +floor. Then he would pace the room in his old familiar manner, like +a caged tiger. Later his mood usually changed with the advent of +Wood and Pearce and Smith and Cleve, who took turns at guard and +going down into camp. Then Kells would join them in a friendly game +for small stakes. Gambler though he was, he refused to allow any +game there that might lead to heavy wagering. From the talk +sometimes Joan learned that he played for exceedingly large stakes +with gamblers and prosperous miners, usually with the same result--a +loss. Sometimes he won, however, and then he would crow over Pearce +and Smith, and delight in telling them how cunningly he had played. + +Jim Cleve had his bed up under the bulge of bluff, in a sheltered +nook. Kells had appeared to like this idea, for some reason relative +to his scout system, which he did not explain. And Cleve was happy +about it because this arrangement left him absolutely free to have +his nightly rendezvous with Joan at her window, sometime between +dark and midnight. Her bed was right under the window: if awake she +could rest on her knees and look out; and if she was asleep he could +thrust a slender stick between the boards to awaken her. But the +fact was that Joan lived for these stolen meetings, and unless he +could not come until very late she waited wide-eyed and listening +for him. Then, besides, as long as Kells was stirring in the cabin +she spent her time spying upon him. + +Jim Cleve had gone to an unfrequented part of the gulch, for no +particular reason, and here he had located his claim. The very first +day he struck gold. And Kells, more for advertisement than for any +other motive, had his men stake out a number of claims near Cleve's, +and bought them. Then they had a little field of their own. All +found the rich pay-dirt, but it was Cleve to whom the goddess of +fortune turned her bright face. As he had been lucky at cards, so he +was lucky at digging. His claim paid big returns. Kells spread the +news, and that part of the gulch saw a rush of miners. + +Every night Joan had her whispered hour with Cleve, and each +succeeding one was the sweeter. Jim had become a victim of the gold +fever. But, having Joan to steady him, he did not lose his head. If +he gambled it was to help out with his part. He was generous to his +comrades. He pretended to drink, but did not drink at all. Jim +seemed to regard his good fortune as Joan's also. He believed if he +struck it rich he could buy his sweetheart's freedom. He claimed +that Kells was drunk for gold to gamble away. Joan let Jim talk, but +she coaxed him and persuaded him to follow a certain line of +behavior, she planned for him, she thought for him, she influenced +him to hide the greater part of his gold-dust, and let it be known +that he wore no gold-belt. She had a growing fear that Jim's success +was likely to develop a temper in him inimical to the cool, waiting, +tolerant policy needed to outwit Kells in the end. It seemed the +more gold Jim acquired the more passionate he became, the more he +importuned Joan, the more he hated Kells. Gold had gotten into his +blood, and it was Joan's task to keep him sane. Naturally she gained +more by yielding herself to Jim's caresses than by any direct advice +or admonishment. It was her love that held Jim in check. + +One night, the instant their hands met Joan knew that Jim was +greatly excited or perturbed. + +"Joan," he whispered, thrillingly, with his lips at her ear, "I've +made myself solid with Kells! Oh, the luck of it!" + +"Tell me!" whispered Joan, and she leaned against those lips. + +"It was early to-night at the Nugget. I dropped in as usual. Kells +was playing faro again with that gambler they call Flash. He's won a +lot of Kells's gold--a crooked gambler. I looked on. And some of the +gang were there--Pearce, Blicky, Handy Oliver, and of course Gulden, +but all separated. Kells was losing and sore. But he was game. All +at once he caught Flash in a crooked trick, and he yelled in a rage. +He sure had the gang and everybody else looking. I expected--and so +did all the gang--to see Kells pull his gun. But strange how +gambling affects him! He only cursed Flash--called him right. You +know that's about as bad as death to a professional gambler in a +place like Alder Creek. Flash threw a derringer on Kells. He had it +up his sleeve. He meant to kill Kells, and Kells had no chance. But +Flash, having the drop, took time to talk, to make his bluff go +strong with the crowd. And that's where he made a mistake. I jumped +and knocked the gun out of his hand. It went off--burned my wrist. +Then I slugged Mr. Flash good--he didn't get up. ... Kells called +the crowd around and, showing the cards as they lay, coolly proved +that Flash was what everybody suspected. Then Kells said to me--I'll +never forget how he looked: 'Youngster, he meant to do for me. I +never thought of my gun. You see! ... I'll kill him the next time we +meet. ... I've owed my life to men more than once. I never forget. +You stood pat with me before. And now you're ace high!'" + +"Was it fair of you?" asked Joan. + +"Yes. Flash is a crooked gambler. I'd rather be a bandit. ... +Besides, all's fair in love! And I was thinking of you when I saved +Kells!" + +"Flash will be looking for you," said Joan, fearfully. + +"Likely. And if he finds me he wants to be quick. But Kells will +drive him out of camp or kill him. I tell you, Kells is the biggest +man in Alder Creek. There's talk of office--a mayor and all that-- +and if the miners can forget gold long enough they'll elect Kells. +But the riffraff, these bloodsuckers who live off the miners, they'd +rather not have any office in Alder Creek." + +And upon another night Cleve in serious and somber mood talked about +the Border Legion and its mysterious workings. The name had found +prominence, no one knew how, and Alder Creek knew no more peaceful +sleep. This Legion was supposed to consist of a strange, secret band +of unknown bandits and road-agents, drawing its members from all +that wild and trackless region called the border. Rumor gave it a +leader of cunning and ruthless nature. It operated all over the +country at the same time, and must have been composed of numerous +smaller bands, impossible to detect. Because its victims never lived +to tell how or by whom they had been robbed! This Legion worked +slowly and in the dark. It did not bother to rob for little gain. It +had strange and unerring information of large quantities of gold- +dust. Two prospectors going out on the Bannack road, packing fifty +pounds of gold, were found shot to pieces. A miner named Black, who +would not trust his gold to the stage-express, and who left Adler +Creek against advice, was never seen or heard of again. Four other +miners of the camp, known to carry considerable gold, were robbed +and killed at night on their way to their cabins. And another was +found dead in his bed. Robbers had crept to his tent, slashed the +canvas, murdered him while he slept, and made off with his belt of +gold. + +An evil day of blood had fallen upon Alder Creek. There were +terrible and implacable men in the midst of the miners, by day at +honest toil, learning who had gold, and murdering by night. The camp +had never been united, but this dread fact disrupted any possible +unity. Every man, or every little group of men, distrusted the +other, watched and spied and lay awake at night. But the robberies +continued, one every few days, and each one left no trace. For dead +men could not talk. + +Thus was ushered in at Alder Creek a regime of wildness that had no +parallel in the earlier days of '49 and '51. Men frenzied by the +possession of gold or greed for it responded to the wildness of that +time and took their cue from this deadly and mysterious Border +Legion. The gold-lust created its own blood-lust. Daily the +population of Alder Creek grew in the new gold-seekers and its dark +records kept pace. With distrust came suspicion and with suspicion +came fear, and with fear came hate--and these, in already distorted +minds, inflamed a hell. So that the most primitive passions of +mankind found outlet and held sway. The operations of the Border +Legion were lost in deeds done in the gambling dens, in the saloons, +and on the street, in broad day. Men fought for no other reason than +that the incentive was in the charged air. Men were shot at gaming- +tables--and the game went on. Men were killed in the dance-halls, +dragged out, marking a line of blood on the rude floor--and the +dance went on. Still the pursuit of gold went on, more frenzied than +ever, and still the greater and richer claims were struck. The price +of gold soared and the commodities of life were almost beyond the +dreams of avarice. It was a tune in which the worst of men's natures +stalked forth, hydra-headed and deaf, roaring for gold, spitting +fire, and shedding blood. It was a time when gold and fire and blood +were one. It was a tune when a horde of men from every class and +nation, of all ages and characters, met on a field were motives and +ambitions and faiths and traits merged into one mad instinct of +gain. It was worse than the time of the medieval crimes of religion; +it made war seem a brave and honorable thing; it robbed manhood of +that splendid and noble trait, always seen in shipwrecked men or +those hopelessly lost in the barren north, the divine will not to +retrograde to the savage. It was a time, for all it enriched the +world with yellow treasure, when might was right, when men were +hopeless, when death stalked rampant. The sun rose gold and it set +red. It was the hour of Gold! + +One afternoon late, while Joan was half dreaming, half dozing the +hours away, she was thoroughly aroused by the tramp of boots and +loud voices of excited men. Joan slipped to the peephole in the +partition. Bate Wood had raised a warning hand to Kells, who stood +up, facing the door. Red Pearce came bursting in, wild-eyed and +violent. Joan imagined he was about to cry out that Kells had been +betrayed. + +"Kells, have you--heard?" he panted. + +"Not so loud, you--!" replied Kells, coolly. "My name's Blight. ... +Who's with you?" + +"Only Jesse an' some of the gang. I couldn't steer them away. But +there's nothin' to fear." + +"What's happened? What haven't I heard?" + +"The camp's gone plumb ravin' crazy. ... Jim Cleve found the biggest +nugget ever dug in Idaho! ... THIRTY POUNDS!" + +Kells seemed suddenly to inflame, to blaze with white passion. "Good +for Jim!" he yelled, ringingly. He could scarcely have been more +elated if he had made the strike himself. + +Jesse Smith came stamping in, with a crowd elbowing their way behind +him. Joan had a start of the old panic at sight of Gulden. For once +the giant was not slow nor indifferent. His big eyes glared. He +brought back to Joan the sickening sense of the brute strength of +his massive presence. Some of his cronies were with him. For the +rest, there were Blicky and Handy Oliver and Chick Williams. The +whole group bore resemblance to a pack of wolves about to leap upon +its prey. Yet, in each man, excepting Gulden, there was that +striking aspect of exultation. + +"Where's Jim?" demanded Kells. + +"He's comin' along," replied Pearce. "He's sure been runnin' a +gantlet. His strike stopped work in the diggin's. What do you think +of that, Kells? The news spread like smoke before wind. Every last +miner in camp has jest got to see thet lump of gold." + +"Maybe I don't want to see it!" exclaimed Kells. "A thirty-pounder! +I heard of one once, sixty pounds, but I never saw it. You can't +believe till you see." + +"Jim's comin' up the road now," said one of the men near the door. +"Thet crowd hangs on. ... But I reckon he's shakin' them." + +"What'll Cleve do with this nugget?" + +Gulden's big voice, so powerful, yet feelingless, caused a momentary +silence. The expression of many faces changed. Kells looked +startled, then annoyed. + +"Why, Gulden, that's not my affair--nor yours," replied Kells. +"Cleve dug it and it belongs to him." + +"Dug or stole--it's all the same," responded Gulden. + +Kell's threw up his hands as if it were useless and impossible to +reason with this man. + +Then the crowd surged round the door with shuffling boots and +hoarse, mingled greetings to Cleve, who presently came plunging in +out of the melee. + +His face wore a flush of radiance; his eyes were like diamonds. Joan +thrilled and thrilled at sight of him. He was beautiful. Yet there +was about him a more striking wildness. He carried a gun in one hand +and in the other an object wrapped in his scarf. He flung this upon +the table in front of Kells. It made a heavy, solid thump. The ends +of the scarf flew aside, and there lay a magnificent nugget of gold, +black and rusty in parts, but with a dull, yellow glitter in others. + +"Boss, what'll you bet against that?" cried Cleve, with exulting +laugh. He was like a boy. + +Kells reached for the nugget as if it were not an actual object, and +when his hands closed on it he fondled it and weighed it and dug his +nails into it and tasted it. + +"My God!" he ejaculated, in wondering ecstasy. Then this, and the +excitement, and the obsession all changed into sincere gladness. +"Jim, you're born lucky. You, the youngster born unlucky in love! +Why, you could buy any woman with this!" + +"Could I? Find me one," responded Cleve, with swift boldness. + +Kells laughed. "I don't know any worth so much." + +"What'll I do with it?" queried Cleve. + +"Why, you fool youngster! Has it turned your head, too? What'd you +do with the rest of your dust? You've certainly been striking it +rich." + +"I spent it--lost it--lent it--gave some away and--saved a little." + +"Probably you'll do the same with this. You're a good fellow, Jim." + +"But this nugget means a lot of money. Between six and seven +thousand dollars." + +"You won't need advice how to spend it, even if it was a million. ... +Tell me, Jim, how'd you strike it?" + +"Funny about that," replied Cleve. "Things were poor for several +days. Dug off branches into my claim. One grew to be a deep hole in +gravel, hard to dig. My claim was once the bed of a stream, full of +rocks that the water had rolled down once. This hole sort of haunted +me. I'd leave it when my back got so sore I couldn't bend, but +always I'd return. I'd say there wasn't a darned grain of gold in +that gravel; then like a fool I'd go back and dig for all I was +worth. No chance of finding blue dirt down there! But I kept on. And +to-day when my pick hit what felt like a soft rock--I looked and saw +the gleam of gold! ... You ought to have seen me claw out that +nugget! I whooped and brought everybody around. The rest was a +parade. ... Now I'm embarrassed by riches. What to do with it?" + +"Wal, go back to Montana an' make thet fool girl sick," suggested +one of the men who had heard Jim's fictitious story of himself. + +"Dug or stole is all the same!" boomed the imperturbable Gulden. + +Kells turned white with rage, and Cleve swept a swift and shrewd +glance at the giant. + +"Sure, that's my idea," declared Cleve. "I'll divide as--as we +planned." + +"You'll do nothing of the kind," retorted Kells. "You dug for that +gold and it's yours." + +"Well, boss, then say a quarter share to you and the same to me--and +divide the rest among the gang." + +"No!" exclaimed Kells, violently. + +Joan imagined he was actuated as much by justice to Cleve as +opposition to Gulden. + +"Jim Cleve, you're a square pard if I ever seen one," declared +Pearce, admiringly. "An' I'm here to say thet I wouldn't hev a share +of your nugget." + +"Nor me," spoke up Jesse Smith. + +"I pass, too," said Chick Williams. + +"Jim, if I was dyin' fer a drink I wouldn't stand fer thet deal," +added Blicky, with a fine scorn. + +These men, and others who spoke or signified their refusal, attested +to the living truth that there was honor even among robbers. But +there was not the slightest suggestion of change in Gulden's +attitude or of those back of him. + +"Share and share alike for me!" he muttered, grimly, with those +great eyes upon the nugget. + +Kells, with an agile bound, reached the table and pounded it with +his fist, confronting the giant. + +"So you say!" he hissed in dark passion. "You've gone too far, +Gulden. Here's where I call you! ... You don't get a gram of that +gold nugget. Jim's worked like a dog. If he digs up a million I'll +see he gets it all. Maybe you loafers haven't a hunch what Jim's +done for you. He's helped our big deal more than you or I. His +honest work has made it easy for me to look honest. He's supposed to +be engaged to marry my daughter. That more than anything was a +blind. It made my stand, and I tell you that stand is high in this +camp. Go down there and swear Blight is Jack Kells! See what you +get! ... That's all. ... I'm dealing the cards in this game!" + +Kells did not cow Gulden--for it was likely the giant lacked the +feeling of fear--but he overruled him by sheer strength of spirit. + +Gulden backed away stolidly, apparently dazed by his own movements; +then he plunged out the door, and the ruffians who had given silent +but sure expression of their loyalty tramped after him. + +"Reckon thet starts the split!" declared Red Pearce. + +"Suppose you'd been in Jim's place!" flashed Kells. + +"Jack, I ain't sayin' a word. You was square. I'd want you to do the +same by me. ... But fetchin' the girl into the deal--" + +Kells's passionate and menacing gesture shut Pearce's lips. He +lifted a hand, resignedly, and went out. + +"Jim," said Kells, earnestly, "take my hunch. Hide your nugget. +Don't send it out with the stage to Bannack. It'd never get there. ... +And change the place where you sleep!" + +"Thanks," replied Cleve, brightly. "I'll hide my nugget all right. +And I'll take care of myself." + +Later that night Joan waited at her window for Jim. It was so quiet +that she could hear the faint murmur of the shallow creek. The sky +was dusky blue; the stars were white, the night breeze sweet and +cool. Her first flush of elation for Jim having passed, she +experienced a sinking of courage. Were they not in peril enough +without Jim's finding a fortune? How dark and significant had been +Kells's hint! There was something splendid in the bandit. Never had +Joan felt so grateful to him. He was a villain, yet he was a man. +What hatred he showed for Gulden! These rivals would surely meet in +a terrible conflict--for power--for gold. And for her!--she added, +involuntarily, with a deep, inward shudder. Once the thought had +flashed through her mind, it seemed like a word of revelation. + +Then she started as a dark form rose out of the shadow under her and +a hand clasped hers. Jim! and she lifted her face. + +"Joan! Joan! I'm rich! rich!" he babbled, wildly. + +"Ssssh!" whispered Joan, softly, in his ear. "Be careful. You're +wild to-night. ... I saw you come in with the nugget. I heard you. ... +Oh, you lucky Jim! I'll tell you what to do with it!" + +"Darling! It's all yours. You'll marry me now?" + +"Sir! Do you take me for a fortune-hunter? I marry you for your +gold? Never!" + +"Joan!" + +"I've promised," she said. + +"I won't go away now. I'll work my claim," he began, excitedly. And +he went on so rapidly that Joan could not keep track of his words. +He was not so cautious as formerly. She remonstrated with him, all +to no purpose. Not only was he carried away by possession of gold +and assurance of more, but he had become masterful, obstinate, and +illogical. He was indeed hopeless to-night--the gold had gotten into +his blood. Joan grew afraid he would betray their secret and +realized there had come still greater need for a woman's wit. So she +resorted to a never-failing means of silencing him, of controlling +him--her lips on his. + + + + +15 + +For several nights these stolen interviews were apparently the safer +because of Joan's tender blinding of her lover. But it seemed that +in Jim's condition of mind this yielding of her lips and her +whispers of love had really been a mistake. Not only had she made +the situation perilously sweet for herself, but in Jim's case she +had added the spark to the powder. She realized her blunder when it +was too late. And the fact that she did not regret it very much, and +seemed to have lost herself in a defiant, reckless spell, warned her +again that she, too, was answering to the wildness of the time and +place. Joan's intelligence had broadened wonderfully in this period +of her life, just as all her feelings had quickened. If gold had +developed and intensified and liberated the worst passions of men, +so the spirit of that atmosphere had its baneful effect upon her. +Joan deplored this, yet she had the keenness to understand that it +was nature fitting her to survive. + +Back upon her fell that weight of suspense--what would happen next? +Here in Alder Creek there did not at present appear to be the same +peril which had menaced her before, but she would suffer through +fatality to Cleve or Kells. And these two slept at night under a +shadow that held death, and by day they walked on a thin crust over +a volcano. Joan grew more and more fearful of the disclosures made +when Kells met his men nightly in the cabin. She feared to hear, but +she must hear, and even if she had not felt it necessary to keep +informed of events, the fascination of the game would have impelled +her to listen. And gradually the suspense she suffered augmented +into a magnified, though vague, assurance of catastrophe, of +impending doom. She could not shake off the gloomy presentiment. +Something terrible was going to happen. An experience begun as +tragically as hers could only end in a final and annihilating +stroke. Yet hope was unquenchable, and with her fear kept pace a +driving and relentless spirit. + +One night at the end of a week of these interviews, when Joan +attempted to resist Jim, to plead with him, lest in his growing +boldness he betray them, she found him a madman. + +"I'll pull you right out of this window," he said, roughly, and then +with his hot face pressed against hers tried to accomplish the thing +he threatened. + +"Go on--pull me to pieces!" replied Joan, in despair and pain. "I'd +be better off dead! And--you--hurt me--so!" + +"Hurt you!" he whispered, hoarsely, as if he had never dreamed of +such possibility. And then suddenly he was remorseful. He begged her +to forgive him. His voice was broken, husky, pleading. His remorse, +like every feeling of his these days, was exaggerated, wild, with +that raw tinge of gold-blood in it. He made so much noise that Joan, +more fearful than ever of discovery, quieted him with difficulty. + +"Does Kells see you often--these days?" asked Jim, suddenly. + +Joan had dreaded this question, which she had known would inevitably +come. She wanted to lie; she knew she ought to lie; but it was +impossible. + +"Every day," she whispered. "Please--Jim--never mind that. Kells is +good--he's all right to me. ... And you and I have so little time +together." + +"Good!" exclaimed Cleve. Joan felt the leap of his body under her +touch. "Why, if I'd tell you what he sends that gang to do--you'd-- +you'd kill him in his sleep." + +"Tell me," replied Joan. She had a morbid, irresistible desire to +learn. + +"No. ... And WHAT does Kells do--when he sees you every day?" + +"He talks." + +"What about?" + +"Oh, everything except about what holds him here. He talks to me to +forget himself." + +"Does he make love to you?" + +Joan maintained silence. What would she do with this changed and +hopeless Jim Cleve? + +"Tell me!" Jim's hands gripped her with a force that made her wince. +And now she grew as afraid of him as she had been for him. But she +had spirit enough to grow angry, also. + +"Certainly he does." + +Jim Cleve echoed her first word, and then through grinding teeth he +cursed. "I'm going to--stop it!" he panted, and his eyes looked big +and dark and wild in the starlight. + +"You can't. I belong to Kells. You at least ought to have sense +enough to see that." + +"Belong to him! ... For God's sake! By what right?" + +"By the right of possession. Might is right here on the border. +Haven't you told me that a hundred times? Don't you hold your claim- +-your gold--by the right of your strength? It's the law of this +border. To be sure Kells stole me. But just now I belong to him. And +lately I see his consideration--his kindness in the light of what he +could do if he held to that border law. ... And of all the men I've +met out here Kells is the least wild with this gold fever. He sends +his men out to do murder for gold; he'd sell his soul to gamble for +gold; but just the same, he's more of a man than---" + +"Joan!" he interrupted, piercingly. "You love this bandit!" + +"You're a fool!" burst out Joan. + +"I guess--I--am," he replied in terrible, slow earnestness. He +raised himself and appeared to loom over her and released his hold. + +But Joan fearfully retained her clasp on his arm, and when he surged +to get away she was hard put to it to hold him. + +"Jim! Where are you going?" + +He stood there a moment, a dark form against the night shadow, like +an outline of a man cut from black stone. + +"I'll just step around--there." + +"Oh, what for?" whispered Joan. + +"I'm going to kill Kells." + +Joan got both arms round his neck and with her head against him she +held him tightly, trying, praying to think how to meet this long- +dreaded moment. After all, what was the use to try? This was the +hour of Gold! Sacrifice, hope, courage, nobility, fidelity--these +had no place here now. Men were the embodiment of passion--ferocity. +They breathed only possession, and the thing in the balance was +death. Women were creatures to hunger and fight for, but womanhood +was nothing. Joan knew all this with a desperate hardening +certainty, and almost she gave in. Strangely, thought of Gulden +flashed up to make her again strong! Then she raised her face and +began the old pleading with Jim, but different this time, when it +seemed that absolutely all was at stake. She begged him, she +importuned him, to listen to reason, to be guided by her, to fight +the wildness that had obsessed him, to make sure that she would not +be left alone. All in vain! He swore he would kill Kells and any +other bandit who stood in the way of his leading her free out of +that cabin. He was wild to fight. He might never have felt fear of +these robbers. He would not listen to any possibility of defeat for +himself, or the possibility that in the event of Kells's death she +would be worse off. He laughed at her strange, morbid fears of +Gulden. He was immovable. + +"Jim! ... Jim! You'll break my heart!" she whispered, wailingly. +"Oh! WHAT can I do?" + +Then Joan released her clasp and gave up to utter defeat. Cleve was +silent. He did not seem to hear the shuddering little sobs that +shook her. Suddenly he bent close to her. + +"There's one thing you can do. If you'll do it I won't kill Kells. +I'll obey your every word." + +"What is it? Tell me!" + +"Marry me!" he whispered, and his voice trembled. + +"MARRY YOU!" exclaimed Joan. She was confounded. She began to fear +Jim was out of his head. + +"I mean it. Marry me. Oh, Joan, will you--will you? It'll make the +difference. That'll steady me. Don't you want to?" + +"Jim, I'd be the happiest girl in the world if--if I only COULD +marry you!" she breathed, passionately. + +"But will you--will you? Say yes! Say yes!" + +"YES!" replied Joan in her desperation. "I hope that pleases you. +But what on earth is the use to talk about it now?" + +Cleve seemed to expand, to grow taller, to thrill under her nervous +hands. And then he kissed her differently. She sensed a shyness, a +happiness, a something hitherto foreign to his attitude. It was +spiritual, and somehow she received an uplift of hope. + +"Listen," he whispered. "There's a preacher down in camp. I've seen +him--talked with him. He's trying to do good in that hell down +there. I know I can trust him. I'll confide in him--enough. I'll +fetch him up here tomorrow night--about this time. Oh, I'll be +careful--very careful. And he can marry us right here by the window. +Joan, will you do it? ... Somehow, whatever threatens you or me-- +that'll be my salvation! ... I've suffered so. It's been burned in +my heart that YOU would never marry me. Yet you say you love me! ... +Prove it! ... MY WIFE! ... Now, girl, a word will make a man of me!" + +"Yes!" And with the word she put her lips to his with all her heart +in them. She felt him tremble. Yet almost instantly he put her from +him. + +"Look for me to-morrow about this time," he whispered. "Keep your +nerve. ... Good night." + +That night Joan dreamed strange, weird, unremembered dreams. The +next day passed like a slow, unreal age. She ate little of what was +brought to her. For the first time she denied Kells admittance and +she only vaguely sensed his solicitations. She had no ear for the +murmur of voices in Kells's room. Even the loud and angry notes of a +quarrel between Kells and his men did not distract her. + +At sunset she leaned out of the little window, and only then, with +the gold fading on the peaks and the shadow gathering under the +bluff, did she awaken to reality. A broken mass of white cloud +caught the glory of the sinking sun. She had never seen a golden +radiance like that. It faded and dulled. But a warm glow remained. +At twilight and then at dusk this glow lingered. + +Then night fell. Joan was exceedingly sensitive to the sensations of +light and shadow, of sound and silence, of dread and hope, of +sadness and joy. + +That pale, ruddy glow lingered over the bold heave of the range in +the west. It was like a fire that would not go out, that would live +to-morrow, and burn golden. The sky shone with deep, rich blue color +fired with a thousand stars, radiant, speaking, hopeful. And there +was a white track across the heavens. The mountains flung down their +shadows, impenetrable, like the gloomy minds of men; and everywhere +under the bluffs and slopes, in the hollows and ravines, lay an +enveloping blackness, hiding its depth and secret and mystery. + +Joan listened. Was there sound or silence? A faint and indescribably +low roar, so low that it might have been real or false, came on the +soft night breeze. It was the roar of the camp down there--the +strife, the agony, the wild life in ceaseless action--the strange +voice of gold, roaring greed and battle and death over the souls of +men. But above that, presently, rose the murmur of the creek, a +hushed and dreamy flow of water over stones. It was hurrying to get +by this horde of wild men, for it must bear the taint of gold and +blood. Would it purge itself and clarify in the valleys below, on +its way to the sea? There was in its murmur an imperishable and +deathless note of nature, of time; and this was only a fleeting day +of men and gold. + +Only by straining her ears could Joan hear these sounds, and when +she ceased that, then she seemed to be weighed upon and claimed by +silence. It was not a silence like that of Lost Canon, but a silence +of solitude where her soul stood alone. She was there on earth, yet +no one could hear her mortal cry. The thunder of avalanches or the +boom of the sea might have lessened her sense of utter loneliness. + +And that silence fitted the darkness, and both were apostles of +dread. They spoke to her. She breathed dread on that silent air and +it filled her breast. There was nothing stable in the night shadows. +The ravine seemed to send forth stealthy, noiseless shapes, specter +and human, man and phantom, each on the other's trail. + +If Jim would only come and let her see that he was safe for the +hour! A hundred times she imagined she saw him looming darker than +the shadows. She had only to see him now, to feel his hand, and +dread might be lost. Love was something beyond the grasp of mind. +Love had confounded Jim Cleve; it had brought up kindness and honor +from the black depths of a bandit's heart; it had transformed her +from a girl into a woman. Surely with all its greatness it could not +be lost; surely in the end it must triumph over evil. + +Joan found that hope was fluctuating, but eternal. It took no stock +of intelligence. It was a matter of feeling. And when she gave rein +to it for a moment, suddenly it plunged her into sadness. To hope +was to think! Poor Jim! It was his fool's paradise. Just to let her +be his wife! That was the apex of his dream. Joan divined that he +might yield to her wisdom, he might become a man, but his agony +would be greater. Still, he had been so intense, so strange, so +different that she could not but feel joy in his joy. + +Then at a soft footfall, a rustle, and a moving shadow Joan's +mingled emotions merged into a poignant sense of the pain and +suspense and tenderness of the actual moment. + +"Joan--Joan," came the soft whisper. + +She answered, and there was a catch in her breath. + +The moving shadow split into two shadows that stole closer, loomed +before her. She could not tell which belonged to Jim till he touched +her. His touch was potent. It seemed to electrify her. + +"Dearest, we're here--this is the parson," said Jim, like a happy +boy. "I--" + +"Ssssh!" whispered Joan. "Not so loud. ... Listen!" + +Kells was holding a rendezvous with members of his Legion. Joan even +recognized his hard and somber tone, and the sharp voice of Red +Pearce, and the drawl of Handy Oliver. + +"All right. I'll be quiet," responded Cleve, cautiously. "Joan, +you're to answer a few questions." + +Then a soft hand touched Joan, and a voice differently keyed from +any she had heard on the border addressed her. + +"What is your name?" asked the preacher. + +Joan told him. + +"Can you tell anything about yourself? This young man is--is almost +violent. I'm not sure. Still I want to--" + +"I can't tell much," replied Joan, hurriedly. "I'm an honest girl. +I'm free to--to marry him. I--I love him! ... Oh, I want to help him. +We--we are in trouble here. I daren't say how." + +"Are you over eighteen?" "Yes, sir." + +"Do your parents object to this young man?" + +"I have no parents. And my uncle, with whom I lived before I was +brought to this awful place, he loves Jim. He always wanted me to +marry him." + +"Take his hand, then." + +Joan felt the strong clasp of Jim's fingers, and that was all which +seemed real at the moment. It seemed so dark and shadowy round these +two black forms in front of her window. She heard a mournful wail of +a lone wolf and it intensified the weird dream that bound her. She +heard her shaking, whispered voice repeating the preacher's words. +She caught a phrase of a low-murmured prayer. Then one dark form +moved silently away. She was alone with Jim. + +"Dearest Joan!" he whispered. "It's over! It's done! ... Kiss me!" + +She lifted her lips and Jim seemed to kiss her more sweetly, with +less violence. + +"Oh, Joan, that you'd really have me! I can't believe it. ... Your +HUSBAND." + +That word dispelled the dream and the pain which had held Joan, +leaving only the tenderness, magnified now a hundredfold. + +And that instant when she was locked in Cleve's arms, when the +silence was so beautiful and full, she heard the heavy pound of a +gun-butt upon the table in Kells's room. + +"Where is Cleve?" That was the voice of Kells, stern, demanding. + +Joan felt a start, a tremor run over Jim. Then he stiffened. + +"I can't locate him," replied Red Pearce. "It was the same last +night an' the one before. Cleve jest disappears these nights--about +this time. ... Some woman's got him!" + +"He goes to bed. Can't you find where he sleeps?" + +"No." + +"This job's got to go through and he's got to do it." + +"Bah!" taunted Pearce. "Gulden swears you can't make Cleve do a job. +And so do I!" + +"Go out and yell for Cleve! ... Damn you all! I'll show you!" + +Then Joan heard the tramp of heavy boots, then a softer tramp on the +ground outside the cabin. Joan waited, holding her breath. She felt +Jim's heart beating. He stood like a post. He, like Joan, was +listening, as if for a trumpet of doom. + +"HALLO, JIM!" rang out Pearce's stentorian call. It murdered the +silence. It boomed under the bluff, and clapped in echo, and wound +away, mockingly. It seemed to have shrieked to the whole wild +borderland the breaking-point of the bandit's power. + +So momentous was the call that Jim Cleve seemed to forget Joan, and +she let him go without a word. Indeed, he was gone before she +realized it, and his dark form dissolved in the shadows. Joan +waited, listening with abated breathing. On this side of the cabin +there was absolute silence. She believed that Jim would slip around +under cover of night and return by the road from camp. Then what +would he do? The question seemed to puzzle her. + +Joan leaned there at her window for moments greatly differing from +those vaguely happy ones just passed. She had sustained a shock that +had left her benumbed with a dull pain. What a rude, raw break the +voice of Kells had made in her brief forgetfulness! She was +returning now to reality. Presently she would peer through the +crevice between the boards into the other room, and she shrank from +the ordeal. Kells, and whoever was with him, maintained silence. +Occasionally she heard the shuffle of a boot and a creak of the +loose floor boards. She waited till anxiety and fear compelled her +to look. + +The lamps were burning; the door was wide open. Apparently Kells's +rule of secrecy had been abandoned. One glance at Kells was enough +to show Joan that he was sick and desperate. Handy Oliver did not +wear his usual lazy good humor. Red Pearce sat silent and sullen, a +smoking, unheeded pipe in his hand. Jesse Smith was gloomy. The only +other present was Bate Wood, and whatever had happened had in no +wise affected him. These bandits were all waiting. Presently quick +footsteps on the path outside caused them all to look toward the +door. That tread was familiar to Joan, and suddenly her mouth was +dry, her tongue stiff. What was Jim Cleve coming to meet? How sharp +and decided his walk! Then his dark form crossed the bar of light +outside the door, and he entered, bold and cool, and with a +weariness that must have been simulated. + +"Howdy boys!" he said. + +Only Kells greeted him in response. The bandit eyed him curiously. +The others added suspicion to their glances. + +"Did you hear Red's yell?" queried Kells, presently. + +"I'd have heard that roar if I'd been dead," replied Cleve, bluntly. +"And I didn't like it! ... I was coming up the road and I heard +Pearce yell. I'll bet every man in camp heard it." + +"How'd you know Pearce yelled for you?" + +"I recognized his voice." + +Cleve's manner recalled to Joan her first sight of him over in Cabin +Gulch. He was not so white or haggard, but his eyes were piercing, +and what had once been recklessness now seemed to be boldness. He +deliberately studied Pearce. Joan trembled, for she divined what +none of these robbers knew, and it was that Pearce was perilously +near death. It was there for Joan to read in Jim's dark glance. + +"Where've you been all these nights?" queried the bandit leader. + +"Is that any of your business--when you haven't had need of me?" +returned Cleve. + +"Yes, it's my business. And I've sent for you. You couldn't be +found." + +"I've been here for supper every night." + +"I don't talk to any men in daylight. You know my hours for meeting. +And you've not come." + +"You should have told me. How was I to know?" + +"I guess you're right. But where've you been?" + +"Down in camp. Faro, most of the time. Bad luck, too." + +Red Pearce's coarse face twisted into a scornful sneer. It must have +been a lash to Kells. + +"Pearce says you're chasing a woman," retorted the bandit leader. + +"Pearce lies!" flashed Cleve. His action was as swift. And there he +stood with a gun thrust hard against Pearce's side. + +"JIM! Don't kill him!" yelled Kells, rising. + +Pearce's red face turned white. He stood still as a stone, with his +gaze fixed in fascinated fear upon Cleve's gun. + +A paralyzing surprise appeared to hold the group. + +"Can you prove what you said?" asked Cleve, low and hard. + +Joan knew that if Pearce did have the proof which would implicate +her he would never live to tell it. + +"Cleve--I don't--know nothin'," choked out Pearce. "I jest figgered +--it was a woman!" + +Cleve slowly lowered the gun and stepped back. Evidently that +satisfied him. But Joan had an intuitive feeling that Pearce lied. + +"You want to be careful how you talk about me," said Cleve. + +Kells purled out a suspended breath and he flung the sweat from his +brow. There was about him, perhaps more than the others, a dark +realization of how close the call had been for Pearce. + +"Jim, you're not drunk?" + +"No." + +"But you're sore?" + +"Sure I'm sore. Pearce put me in bad with you, didn't he?" + +"No. You misunderstood me. Red hasn't a thing against you. And +neither he nor anybody else could put you in bad with me." + +"All right. Maybe I was hasty. But I'm not wasting time these days," +replied Cleve. "I've no hard feelings. ... Pearce, do you want to +shake hands--or hold that against me?" + +"He'll shake, of course," said Kells. + +Pearce extended his hand, but with a bad grace. He was dominated. +This affront of Cleve's would rankle in him. + +"Kells, what do you want with me?" demanded Cleve. + +A change passed over Kells, and Joan could not tell just what it +was, but somehow it seemed to suggest a weaker man. + +"Jim, you've been a great card for me," began Kells, impressively. +"You've helped my game--and twice you saved my life. I think a lot +of you. ... If you stand by me now I swear I'll return the trick +some day. ... Will you stand by me?" + +"Yes," replied Cleve, steadily, but he grew pale. "What's the +trouble?" + +"By--, it's bad enough!" exclaimed Kells, and as he spoke the shade +deepened in his haggard face. "Gulden has split my Legion. He has +drawn away more than half my men. They have been drunk and crazy +ever since. They've taken things into their own hands. You see the +result as well as I. That camp down there is fire and brimstone. +Some one of that drunken gang has talked. We're none of us safe any +more. I see suspicion everywhere. I've urged getting a big stake and +then hitting the trail for the border. But not a man sticks to me in +that. They all want the free, easy, wild life of this gold-camp. So +we're anchored till--till ... But maybe it's not too late. Pearce, +Oliver, Smith--all the best of my Legion--profess loyalty to me. If +we all pull together maybe we can win yet. But they've threatened to +split, too. And it's all on your account!" + +"Mine?" ejaculated Cleve. + +"Yes. Now it's nothing to make you flash your gun. Remember you said +you'd stand by me. ... Jim, the fact is--all the gang to a man +believe you're double-crossing me!" + +"In what way?" queried Cleve, blanching. + +"They think you're the one who has talked. They blame you for the +suspicion that's growing." + +"Well, they're absolutely wrong," declared Cleve, in a ringing +voice. + +"I know they are. Mind you I'm not hinting I distrust you. I don't. +I swear by you. But Pearce--" + +"So it's Pearce," interrupted Cleve, darkly. "I thought you said he +hadn't tried to put me in bad with you." + +"He hasn't. He simply spoke his convictions. He has a right to them. +So have all the men. And, to come to the point, they all think +you're crooked because you're honest!" + +"I don't understand," replied Cleve, slowly. + +"Jim, you rode into Cabin Gulch, and you raised some trouble. But +you were no bandit. You joined my Legion, but you've never become a +bandit. Here you've been an honest miner. That suited my plan and it +helped. But it's got so it doesn't suit my men. You work every day +hard. You've struck it rich. You're well thought of in Alder Creek. +You've never done a dishonest thing. Why, you wouldn't turn a +crooked trick in a card game for a sack full of gold. This has hurt +you with my men. They can't see as I see, that you're as square as +you are game. They see you're an honest miner. They believe you've +got into a clique--that you've given us away. I don't blame Pearce +or any of my men. This is a time when men's intelligence, if they +have any, doesn't operate. Their brains are on fire. They see gold +and whisky and blood, and they feel gold and whisky and blood. +That's all. I'm glad that the gang gives you the benefit of a doubt +and a chance to stand by me." + +"A chance!" + +"Yes. They've worked out a job for you alone. Will you undertake +it?" + +"I'll have to," replied Cleve. + +"You certainly will if you want the gang to justify my faith in you. +Once you pull off a crooked deal, they'll switch and swear by you. +Then we'll get together, all of us, and plan what to do about Gulden +and his outfit. They'll run our heads, along with their own, right +into the noose." + +"What is this--this job?" labored Cleve. He was sweating now and his +hair hung damp over his brow. He lost that look which had made him a +bold man and seemed a boy again, weak, driven, bewildered. + +Kells averted his gaze before speaking again. He hated to force this +task upon Cleve. Joan felt, in the throbbing pain of the moment, +that if she never had another reason to like this bandit, she would +like him for the pity he showed. + +"Do you know a miner named Creede?" asked Kells, rapidly. + +"A husky chap, short, broad, something like Gulden for shape, only +not so big--fellow with a fierce red beard?" asked Cleve. + +"I never saw him," replied Kells. "But Pearce has. How does Cleve's +description fit Creede?" + +"He's got his man spotted," answered Pearce. + +"All right, that's settled," went on Kells, warming to his subject. +"This fellow Creede wears a heavy belt of gold. Blicky never makes a +mistake. Creede's partner left on yesterday's stage for Bannack. +He'll be gone a few days. Creede is a hard worker-one of the +hardest. Sometimes he goes to sleep at his supper. He's not the +drinking kind. He's slow, thick-headed. The best time for this job +will be early in the evening--just as soon as his lights are out. +Locate the tent. It stands at the head of a little wash and there's +a bleached pine-tree right by the tent. To-morrow night as soon as +it gets dark crawl up this wash--be careful--wait till the right +time--then finish the job quick!" + +"How--finish--it?" asked Cleve, hoarsely. + +Kells was scintillating now, steely, cold, radiant. He had forgotten +the man before him in the prospect of the gold. + +"Creede's cot is on the side of the tent opposite the tree. You +won't have to go inside. Slit the canvas. It's a rotten old tent. +Kill Creede with your knife. ... Get his belt. ... Be bold, +cautious, swift! That's your job. Now what do you say?" + +"All right," responded Cleve, somberly, and with a heavy tread he +left the room. + +After Jim had gone Joan still watched and listened. She was in +distress over his unfortunate situation, but she had no fear that he +meant to carry out Kells's plan. This was a critical time for Jim, +and therefore for her. She had no idea what Jim could do; all she +thought was what he would not do. + +Kells gazed triumphantly at Pearce. "I told you the youngster would +stand by me. I never put him on a job before." + +"Reckon I figgered wrong, boss," replied Pearce. + +"He looked sick to me, but game," said Handy Oliver. "Kells is +right, Red, an' you've been sore-headed over nothin'!" + +"Mebbe. But ain't it good figgerin' to make Cleve do some kind of a +job, even if he is on the square?" + +They all acquiesced to this, even Kells slowly nodding his head. + +"Jack, I've thought of another an' better job for young Cleve," +spoke up Jesse Smith, with his characteristic grin. + +"You'll all be setting him jobs now," replied Kells. "What's yours?" + +"You spoke of plannin' to get together once more--what's left of us. +An' there's thet bull-head Gulden." + +"You're sure right," returned the leader, grimly, and he looked at +Smith as if he would welcome any suggestion. + +"I never was afraid to speak my mind," went on Smith. Here he lost +his grin and his coarse mouth grew hard. "Gulden will have to be +killed if we're goin' to last!" + +"Wood, what do you say?" queried Kells, with narrowing eyes. + +Bate Wood nodded as approvingly as if he had been asked about his +bread. + +"Oliver, what do you say?" + +"Wal, I'd love to wait an' see Gul hang, but if you press me, I'll +agree to stand pat with the cards Jesse's dealt," replied Handy +Oliver. + +Then Kells turned with a bright gleam upon his face. "And you-- +Pearce?" + +"I'd say yes in a minute if I'd not have to take a hand in thet +job," replied Pearce, with a hard laugh. "Gulden won't be so easy to +kill. He'll pack a gunful of lead. I'll gamble if the gang of us +cornered him in this cabin he'd do for most of us before we killed +him." + +"Gul sleep alone, no one knows where," said Handy Oliver. "An' he +can't be surprised. Red's correct. How're we goin' to kill him?" + +"If you gents will listen you'll find out," rejoined Jesse Smith. +"Thet's the job for young Cleve. He can do it. Sure Gulden never was +afraid of any man. But somethin' about Cleve bluffed him. I don't +know what. Send Cleve out after Gulden. He'll call him face to face, +anywhere, an' beat him to a gun! ... Take my word for it." + +"Jesse, that's the grandest idea you ever had," said Kells, softly. +His eyes shone. The old power came back to his face. "I split on +Gulden. With him once out of the way--!" + +"Boss, are you goin' to make thet Jim Cleve's second job?" inquired +Pearce, curiously. + +"I am," replied Kells, with his jaw corded and stiff. "If he pulls +thet off you'll never hear a yap from me so long as I live. An' I'll +eat out of Cleve's hand." + +Joan could bear to hear no more. She staggered to her bed and fell +there, all cramped as if in a cold vise. However Jim might meet the +situation planned for murdering Creede, she knew he would not shirk +facing Gulden with deadly intent. He hated Gulden because she had a +horror of him. Would these hours of suspense never end? Must she +pass from one torture to another until--? + +Sleep did not come for a long time. And when it did she suffered +with nightmares from which it seemed she could never awaken. + +The day, when at last it arrived, was no better than the night. It +wore on endlessly, and she who listened so intently found it one of +the silent days. Only Bate Wood remained at the cabin. He appeared +kinder than usual, but Joan did not want to talk. She ate her meals, +and passed the hours watching from the window and lying on the bed. +Dusk brought Kells and Pearce and Smith, but not Jim Cleve. Handy +Oliver and Blicky arrived at supper-time. + +"Reckon Jim's appetite is pore," remarked Bate Wood, reflectively. +"He ain't been in to-day." + +Some of the bandits laughed, but Kells had a twinge, if Joan ever +saw a man have one. The dark, formidable, stern look was on his +face. He alone of the men ate sparingly, and after the meal he took +to his bent posture and thoughtful pacing. Joan saw the added burden +of another crime upon his shoulders. Conversation, which had been +desultory, and such as any miners or campers might have indulged in, +gradually diminished to a word here and there, and finally ceased. +Kells always at this hour had a dampening effect upon his followers. +More and more he drew aloof from them, yet he never realized that. +He might have been alone. But often he glanced out of the door, and +appeared to listen. Of course he expected Jim Cleve to return, but +what did he expect of him? Joan had a blind faith that Jim would be +cunning enough to fool Kells and Pearce. So much depended upon it! + +Some of the bandits uttered an exclamation. Then silently, like a +shadow, Jim Cleve entered. + +Joan's heart leaped and seemed to stand still. Jim could not have +locked more terrible if he were really a murderer. He opened his +coat. Then he flung a black object upon the table and it fell with a +soft, heavy, sodden thud. It was a leather belt packed with gold. + +When Kells saw that he looked no more at the pale Cleve. His +clawlike hand swept out for the belt, lifted and weighed it. +Likewise the other bandits, with gold in sight, surged round Kells, +forgetting Cleve. + +"Twenty pounds!" exclaimed Kells, with a strange rapture in his +voice. + +"Let me heft it?" asked Pearce, thrillingly. + +Joan saw and heard so much, then through a kind of dimness, that she +could not wipe away, her eyes beheld Jim. What was the awful thing +that she interpreted from his face, his mien? Was this a part he was +playing to deceive Kells? The slow-gathering might of her horror +came with the meaning of that gold-belt. Jim had brought back the +gold-belt of the miner Creede. He had, in his passion to remain near +her, to save her in the end, kept his word to Kells and done the +ghastly deed. + +Joan reeled and sank back upon the bed, blindly, with darkening +sight and mind. + + + + +16 + +Joan returned to consciousness with a sense of vague and unlocalized +pain which she thought was that old, familiar pang of grief. But +once fully awakened, as if by a sharp twinge, she became aware that +the pain was some kind of muscular throb in her shoulder. The +instant she was fully sure of this the strange feeling ceased. Then +she lay wide-eyed in the darkness, waiting and wondering. + +Suddenly the slight sharp twing was repeated. It seemed to come from +outside her flesh. She shivered a little, thinking it might be a +centipede. When she reached for her shoulder her hand came in +contact with a slender stick that had been thrust through a crack +between the boards. Jim was trying to rouse her. This had been his +method on several occasions when she had fallen asleep after waiting +long for him. + +Joan got up to the window, dizzy and sick with the resurging memory +of Jim's return to Kells with that gold-belt. + +Jim rose out of the shadow and felt for her, clasped her close. Joan +had none of the old thrill; her hands slid loosely round his; and +every second the weight inwardly grew heavier. + +"Joan! I had a time waking you," whispered Jim, and then he kissed +her. "Why, you're as cold as ice." + +"Jim--I--I must have fainted," she replied. + +"What for?" "I was peeping into Kells's cabin, when you--you--" + +"Poor kid!" he interrupted, tenderly. "You've had so much to bear! ... +Joan, I fooled Kells. Oh, I was slick! ... He ordered me out on +a job--to kill a miner! Fancy that! And what do you think? I know +Creede well. He's a good fellow. I traded my big nugget for his +gold-belt!" + +"You TRADED--you--didn't--kill him!" faltered Joan. + +"Hear the child talk!" exclaimed Cleve, with a low laugh. + +Joan suddenly clung to him with all her might, quivering in a silent +joy. It had not occurred to Jim what she might have thought. + +"Listen," he went on. "I traded my nugget. It was worth a great deal +more than Creede's gold-belt. He knew this. He didn't want to trade. +But I coaxed him. I persuaded him to leave camp--to walk out on the +road to Bannack. To meet the stage somewhere and go on to Bannack, +and stay a few days. He sure was curious. But I kept my secret. ... +Then I came back here, gave the belt to Kells, told him I had +followed Creede in the dark, had killed him and slid him into a deep +hole in the creek. ... Kells and Pearce--none of them paid any +attention to my story. I had the gold-belt. That was enough. Gold +talks--fills the ears of these bandits. ... I have my share of +Creede's gold-dust in my pocket. Isn't that funny? Alas for my--YOUR +big nugget! But we've got to play the game. Besides, I've sacks and +cans of gold hidden away. Joan, what'll we do with it all? You're my +wife now. And, oh! If we can only get away with it you'll be rich!" + +Joan could not share his happiness any more than she could +understand his spirit. She remembered. + +"Jim--dear--did Kells tell you what your--next job was to be?" she +whispered, haltingly. + +Cleve swore under his breath, but loud enough to make Joan swiftly +put her hand over his lips and caution him. + +"Joan, did you hear that about Gulden?" he asked. + +"Oh yes." + +"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you. Yes, I've got my second job. +And this one I can't shirk or twist around." + +Joan held to him convulsively. She could scarcely speak. + +"Girl, don't lose your nerve!" he said, sternly. "When you married +me you made me a man. I'll play my end of the game. Don't fear for +me. You plan when we can risk escape. I'll obey you to the word." + +"But Jim--oh, Jim!" she moaned. "You're as wild as these bandits. +You can't see your danger. ... That terrible Gulden! ... You don't +mean to meet him--fight him? ... Say you won't!" + +"Joan, I'll meet him--and I'll KILL him," whispered Jim, with a +piercing intensity. "You never knew I was swift with a gun. Well, I +didn't, either, till I struck the border. I know now. Kells is the +only man I've seen who can throw a gun quicker than I. Gulden is a +big bull. He's slow. I'll get into a card-game with him--I'll +quarrel over gold--I'll smash him as I did once before--and this +time I won't shoot off his ear. I've my nerve now. Kells swore he'd +do anything for me if I stand by him now. I will. You never can +tell. Kells is losing his grip. And my standing by him may save +you." + +Joan drew a deep breath. Jim Cleve had indeed come into manhood. She +crushed down her womanish fears and rose dauntless to the occasion. +She would never weaken him by a lack of confidence. + +"Jim, Kells's plot draws on to a fatal close," she said, earnestly. +"I feel it. He's doomed. He doesn't realize that yet. He hopes and +plots on. When he falls, then he'll be great--terrible. We must get +away before that comes. What you said about Creede has given me an +idea. Suppose we plan to slip out some night soon, and stop the +stage next day on its way to Bannack?" + +"I've thought of that. But we must have horses." + +"Let's go afoot. We'd be safer. There'd not be so much to plan." + +"But if we go on foot we must pack guns and grub--and there's my +gold-dust. Fifty pounds or more! It's yours, Joan. ... You'll need +it all. You love pretty clothes and things. And now I'll get them +for you or--or die." + +"Hush! That's foolish talk, with our very lives at stake. Let me +plan some more. Oh, I think so hard! ... And, Jim, there's another +thing. Red Pearce was more than suspicious about your absence from +the cabin at certain hours. What he hinted to Kells about a woman in +the case! I'm afraid he suspects or knows." + +"He had me cold, too," replied Cleve, thoughtfully. "But he swore he +knew nothing." + +"Jim, trust a woman's instinct. Pearce lied. That gun at his side +made him a liar. He knew you'd kill him if he betrayed himself by a +word. Oh, look out for him!" + +Cleve did not reply. It struck Joan that he was not listening, at +least to her. His head was turned, rigid and alert. He had his ear +to the soft wind. Suddenly Joan heard a faint rustle-then another. +They appeared to come from the corner of the cabin. Silently Cleve +sank down into the shadow and vanished. Low, stealthy footsteps +followed, but Joan was not sure whether or not Cleve made them. They +did not seem to come from the direction he usually took. Besides, +when he was careful he never made the slightest noise. Joan strained +her ears, only to catch the faint sounds of the night. She lay back +upon her bed, worried and anxious again, and soon the dread +returned. There were to be no waking or sleeping hours free from +this portent of calamity. + +Next morning Joan awaited Kells, as was her custom, but he did not +appear. This was the third time in a week that he had forgotten or +avoided her or had been prevented from seeing her. Joan was glad, +yet the fact was not reassuring. The issue for Kells was growing +from trouble to disaster. + +Early in the afternoon she heard Kells returning from camp. He had +men with him. They conversed in low, earnest tones. Joan was about +to spy up on them when Kells's step approached her door. He rapped +and spoke: + +"Put on Dandy Dale's suit and mask, and come out here," he said. + +The tone of his voice as much as the content of his words startled +Joan so that she did not at once reply. + +"Do you hear?" he called, sharply. + +"Yes," replied Joan. + +Then he went back to his men, and the low, earnest conversation was +renewed. + +Reluctantly Joan took down Dandy Dale's things from the pegs, and +with a recurring shame she divested herself of part of her clothes +and donned the suit and boots and mask and gun. Her spirit rose, +however, at the thought that this would be a disguise calculated to +aid her in the escape with Cleve. But why had Kells ordered the +change? Was he in danger and did he mean to flee from Alder Creek? +Joan found the speculation a relief from that haunting, persistent +thought of Jim Cleve and Gulden. She was eager to learn, still she +hesitated at the door. It was just as hard as ever to face those +men. + +But it must be, so with a wrench she stepped out boldly. + +Kells looked worn and gray. He had not slept. But his face did not +wear the shade she had come to associate with his gambling and +drinking. Six other men were present, and Joan noted coats and +gloves and weapons and spurs. Kells turned to address her. His face +lighted fleetingly. + +"I want you to be ready to ride any minute," he said. + +"Why?" asked Joan. + +"We may HAVE to, that's all," he replied. + +His men, usually so keen when they had a chance to ogle Joan, now +scarcely gave her a glance. They were a dark, grim group, with hard +eyes and tight lips. Handy Oliver was speaking. + +"I tell you, Gulden swore he seen Creede--on the road--in the +lamplight--last night AFTER Jim Cleve got here." + +"Gulden must have been mistaken," declared Kells, impatiently. + +"He ain't the kind to make mistakes," replied Oliver. + +"Gul's seen Creede's ghost, thet's what," suggested Blicky, +uneasily. "I've seen a few in my time." + +Some of the bandits nodded gloomily. + +"Aw!" burst out Red Pearce. "Gulden never seen a ghost in his life. +If he seen Creede he's seen him ALIVE!" + +"Shore you're right, Red," agreed Jesse Smith. + +"But, men--Cleve brought in Creede's belt--and we've divided the +gold," said Kells. "You all know Creede would have to be dead before +that belt could be unbuckled from him. There's a mistake." + +"Boss, it's my idee thet Gul is only makin' more trouble," put in +Bate Wood. "I seen him less than an hour ago. I was the first one +Gul talked to. An' he knew Jim Cleve did for Creede. How'd he know? +Thet was supposed to be a secret. What's more, Gul told me Cleve was +on the job to kill him. How'd he ever find thet out? ... Sure as God +made little apples Cleve never told him!" + +Kells's face grew livid and his whole body vibrated. "Maybe one of +Gulden's gang was outside, listening when we planned Cleve's job," +he suggested. But his look belied his hope. + +"Naw! There's a nigger in the wood-pile, you can gamble on thet," +blurted out the sixth bandit, a lean faced, bold-eye, blond- +mustached fellow whose name Joan had never heard. + +"I won't believe it," replied Kells, doggedly. "And you, Budd, +you're accusing somebody present of treachery--or else Cleve. He's +the only one not here who knew." + +"Wal, I always said thet youngster was slick," replied Budd. + +"Will you accuse him to his face?" + +"I shore will. Glad of the chance." + +"Then you're drunk or just a fool." + +"Thet so?" + +"Yes, that's so," flashed Kells. "You don't know Cleve. He'll kill +you. He's lightning with a gun. Do you suppose I'd set him on +Gulden's trail if I wasn't sure? Why I wouldn't care to--" + +"Here comes Cleve," interrupted Pearce, sharply. + +Rapid footsteps sounded without. Then Joan saw Jim Cleve darken the +doorway. He looked keen and bold. Upon sight of Joan in her changed +attire he gave a slight start. + +"Budd, here's Cleve," called out Red Pearce, mockingly. "Now, say it +to his face!" + +In the silence that ensued Pearce's spirit dominated the moment with +its cunning, hate, and violence. But Kells savagely leaped in front +of the men, still master of the situation. + +"Red, what's got into you?" he hissed. "You're cross-grained lately. +You're sore. Any more of this and I'll swear you're a disorganizer. ... +Now, Budd, you keep your mouth shut. And you, Cleve, you pay no +heed to Budd if he does gab. ... We're in bad and all the men have +chips on their shoulders. We've got to stop fighting among +ourselves." + +"Wal, boss, there's a power of sense in a good example," dryly +remarked Bate Wood. His remark calmed Kells and eased the situation. + +"Jim, did you meet Gulden?" queried Kells, eagerly. + +"Can't find him anywhere," replied Cleve. "I've loafed in the +saloons and gambling-hells where he hangs out. But he didn't show +up. He's in camp. I know that for a fact. He's laying low for some +reason." + +"Gulden's been tipped off, Jim," said Kells, earnestly. "He told +Bate Wood you were out to kill him." + +"I'm glad. It wasn't a fair hand you were going to deal him," +responded Cleve. "But who gave my job away? Someone in this gang +wants me done for--more than Gulden." + +Cleve's flashing gaze swept over the motionless men and fixed +hardest upon Red Pearce. Pearce gave back hard look for hard look. + +"Gulden told Oliver more," continued Kells, and he pulled Cleve +around to face him. "Gulden swore he saw Creede alive last night. ... +LATE LAST NIGHT!" + +"That's funny," replied Cleve, without the flicker of an eyelash. + +"It's not funny. But it's queer. Gulden hasn't the moral sense to +lie. Bate says he wants to make trouble between you and me. I doubt +that. I don't believe Gulden could see a ghost, either. He's simply +mistaken some miner for Creede." + +"He sure has, unless Creede came back to life. I'm not sitting on +his chest now, holding him down." + +Kells drew back, manifestly convinced and relieved. This action +seemed to be a magnet for Pearce. He detached himself from the +group, and, approaching Kells, tapped him significantly on the +shoulder; and whether by design or accident the fact was that he +took a position where Kells was between him and Cleve. + +"Jack, you're being double-crossed here--an' by more 'n one," he +said, deliberately. "But if you want me to talk you've got to +guarantee no gun-play." + +"Speak up, Red," replied Kells, with a glinting eye. "I swear there +won't be a gun pulled." + +The other men shifted from one foot to another and there were deep- +drawn breaths. Jim Cleve alone seemed quiet and cool. But his eyes +were ablaze. + +"Fust off an' for instance here's one who's double-crossin' you," +said Pearce, in slow, tantalizing speech, as if he wore out this +suspense to torture Kells. And without ever glancing at Joan he +jerked a thumb, in significant gesture, at her. + +Joan leaned back against the wall, trembling and cold all over. She +read Pearce's mind. He knew her secret and meant to betray her and +Jim. He hated Kells and wanted to torture him. If only she could +think quickly and speak! But she seemed dumb and powerless. + +"Pearce, what do you mean?" demanded Kells. + +"The girl's double-crossin' you," replied Pearce. With the uttered +words he grew pale and agitated. + +Suddenly Kells appeared to become aware of Joan's presence and that +the implication was directed toward her. Then, many and remarkable +as had been the changes Joan had seen come over him, now occurred +one wholly greater. It had all his old amiability, his cool, easy +manner, veiling a deep and hidden ruthlessness, terrible in +contrast. + +"Red, I thought our talk concerned men and gold and--things," he +said, with a cool, slow softness that had a sting, "but since you've +nerve enough or are crazy enough to speak of--her--why, explain your +meaning." + +Pearce's jaw worked so that he could scarcely talk. He had gone too +far--realized it too late. + +"She meets a man--back there--at her window," he panted. "They +whisper in the dark for hours. I've watched an' heard them. An' I'd +told you before, but I wanted to make sure who he was. ... I know +him now! ... An' remember I seen him climb in an' out--" + +Kells's whole frame leaped. His gun was a flash of blue and red and +white all together. Pearce swayed upright, like a tree chopped at +the roots, and then fell, face up, eyes set--dead. The bandit leader +stood over him with the smoking gun. + +"My Gawd, Jack!" gasped Handy Oliver. "You swore no one would pull a +gun--an' here you've killed him yourself! ... YOU'VE DOUBLE-CROSSED +YOURSELF! An' if I die for it I've got to tell you Red wasn't lyin' +then!" + +Kells's radiance fled, leaving him ghastly. He stared at Oliver. + +"You've double-crossed yourself an' your pards," went on Oliver, +pathetically. "What's your word amount to? Do you expect the gang to +stand for this? ... There lays Red Pearce dead. An' for what? Jest +once--relyin' on your oath--he speaks out what might have showed +you. An' you kill him! ... If I knowed what he knowed I'd tell you +now with thet gun in your hand! But I don't know. Only I know he +wasn't lyin'. ... Ask the girl! ... An' as for me, I reckon I'm +through with you an' your Legion. You're done, Kells--your head's +gone--you've broke over thet slip of a woman!" + +Oliver spoke with a rude and impressive dignity. When he ended he +strode out into the sunlight. + +Kells was shaken by this forceful speech, yet he was not in any +sense a broken man. "Joan--you heard Pearce," said he, passionately. +"He lied about you. I had to kill him. He hinted--Oh, the low-lived +dog! He could not know a good woman. He lied--and there he is--dead! +I wouldn't fetch him back for a hundred Legions!" + +"But it--it wasn't--all--a lie," said Joan, and her words came +haltingly because a force stronger than her cunning made her speak. +She had reached a point where she could not deceive Kells to save +her life. + +"WHAT!" he thundered. + +"Pearce told the truth--except that no one ever climbed in my +window. That's false. No one could climb in. It's too small. ... But +I did whisper--to someone." + +Kells had to moisten his lips to speak. "Who?" + +"I'll never tell you." + +"Who? ... I'll kill him!" + +"No--no. I won't tell. I won't let you kill another man on my +account." + +"I'll choke it out of you." + +"You can't. There's no use to threaten me, or hurt me, either." + +Kells seemed dazed. "Whisper! For hours! In the dark! ... But, Joan, +what for? Why such a risk?" + +Joan shook her head. + +"Were you just unhappy--lonesome? Did some young miner happen to see +you there in daylight--then come at night? Wasn't it only accident? +Tell me." + +"I won't--and I won't because I don't want you to spill more blood." + +"For my sake," he queried, with the old, mocking tone. Then he grew +dark with blood in his face, fierce with action of hands and body as +he bent nearer her. "Maybe you like him too well to see him shot? ... +Did you--whisper often to this stranger?" + +Joan felt herself weakening. Kells was so powerful in spirit and +passion that she seemed unable to fight him. She strove to withhold +her reply, but it burst forth, involuntarily. + +"Yes--often." + +That roused more than anger and passion. Jealousy flamed from him +and it transformed him into a devil. + +"You held hands out of that window--and kissed--in the dark?" he +cried, with working lips. + +Joan had thought of this so fearfully and intensely--she had battled +so to fortify herself to keep it secret--that he had divined it, had +read her mind. She could not control herself. The murder of Pearce +had almost overwhelmed her. She had not the strength to bite her +tongue. Suggestion alone would have drawn her then--and Kells's +passionate force was hypnotic. + +"Yes," she whispered. + +He appeared to control a developing paroxysm of rage. + +"That settles you," he declared darkly. "But I'll do one more decent +thing by you. I'll marry you." Then he wheeled to his men. "Blicky, +there's a parson down in camp. Go on the run. Fetch him back if you +have to push him with a gun." + +Blicky darted through the door and his footsteps thudded out of +hearing. + +"You can't force me to marry you," said Joan. "I--I won't open my +lips." + +"That's your affair. I've no mind to coax you," he replied, +bitterly. "But if you don't I'll try Gulden's way with a woman. ... +You remember. Gulden's way! A cave and a rope!" + +Joan's legs gave out under her and she sank upon a pile of blankets. +Then beyond Kells she saw Jim Cleve. With all that was left of her +spirit she flashed him a warning--a meaning--a prayer not to do the +deed she divined was his deadly intent. He caught it and obeyed. And +he flashed back a glance which meant that, desperate as her case +was, it could never be what Kells threatened. + +"Men, see me through this," said Kells to the silent group. "Then +any deal you want--I'm on. Stay here or--sack the camp! Hold up the +stage express with gold for Bannack! Anything for a big stake! Then +the trail and the border." + +He began pacing the floor. Budd and Smith strolled outside. Bate +Wood fumbled in his pockets for pipe and tobacco. Cleve sat down at +the table and leaned on his hands. No one took notice of the dead +Pearce. Here was somber and terrible sign of the wildness of the +border clan--that Kells could send out for a parson to marry him to +a woman he hopelessly loved, there in the presence of murder and +death, with Pearce's distorted face upturned in stark and ghastly +significance. + +It might have been a quarter of an hour, though to Joan it seemed an +endless time, until footsteps and voices outside announced the +return of Blicky. + +He held by the arm a slight man whom he was urging along with no +gentle force. This stranger's face presented as great a contrast to +Blicky's as could have been imagined. His apparel proclaimed his +calling. There were consternation and bewilderment in his +expression, but very little fear. + +"He was preachin' down there in a tent," said Blicky, "an I jest +waltzed him up without explainin'." + +"Sir, I want to be married at once," declared Kells, peremptorily. + +"Certainly. I'm at your service," replied the preacher. "But I +deplore the--the manner in which I've been approached." + +"You'll excuse haste," rejoined the bandit. "I'll pay you well." +Kells threw a small buckskin sack of gold-dust upon the table, and +then he turned to Joan. "Come, Joan," he said, in the tone that +brooked neither resistance nor delay. + +It was at that moment that the preacher first noticed Joan. Was her +costume accountable for his start? Joan had remembered his voice and +she wondered if he would remember hers. Certainly Jim had called her +Joan more than once on the night of the marriage. The preacher's +eyes grew keener. He glanced from Joan to Kells, and then at the +other men, who had come in. Jim Cleve stood behind Jesse Smith's +broad person, and evidently the preacher did not see him. That +curious gaze, however, next discovered the dead man on the floor. +Then to the curiosity and anxiety upon the preacher's face was added +horror. + +"A minister of God is needed here, but not in the capacity you +name," he said. "I'll perform no marriage ceremony in the presence +of--murder." + +"Mr. Preacher, you'll marry me quick or you'll go along with him," +replied Kells, deliberately. + +"I cannot be forced." The preacher still maintained some dignity, +but he had grown pale. + +"_I_ can force you. Get ready now! ... Joan, come here!" + +Kells spoke sternly, yet something of the old, self-mocking spirit +was in his tone. His intelligence was deriding the flesh and blood +of him, the beast, the fool. It spoke that he would have his way and +that the choice was fatal for him. + +Joan shook her head. In one stride Kells reached her and swung her +spinning before him. The physical violence acted strangely upon +Joan--roused her rage. + +"I wouldn't marry you to save my life--even if I could!" she burst +out. + +At her declaration the preacher gave a start that must have been +suspicion or confirmation, or both. He bent low to peer into the +face of the dead Pearce. When he arose he was shaking his head. +Evidently he had decided that Pearce was not the man to whom he had +married Joan. + +"Please remove your mask," he said to Joan. + +She did so, swiftly, without a tremor. The preacher peered into her +face again, as he had upon the night he had married her to Jim. He +faced Kells again. + +"I am beyond your threats," he said, now with calmness. "I can't +marry you to a woman who already has a husband. ... But I don't see +that husband here." + +"You don't see that husband here!" echoed the bewildered Kells. He +stared with open mouth. "Say, have you got a screw loose?" + +The preacher, in his swift glance, had apparently not observed the +half-hidden Cleve. Certainly it appeared now that he would have no +attention for any other than Kells. The bandit was a study. His +astonishment was terrific and held him like a chain. Suddenly he +lurched. + +"What did you say?" he roared, his face flaming. + +"I can't marry you to a woman who already has a husband." + +Swift as light the red flashed out of Kells's face. "Did you ever +see her before?" he asked. + +"Yes," replied the preacher. + +"Where and when?" + +"Here--at the back of this cabin--a few nights ago." + +It hurt Joan to look at Kells now, yet he seemed wonderful to +behold. She felt as guilty as if she had really been false to him. +Her heart labored high in her breast. This was the climax--the +moment of catastrophe. Another word and Jim Cleve would be facing +Kells. The blood pressure in Joan's throat almost strangled her. + +"At the back of this cabin! ... At her window?" + +"Yes." + +"What were you there for?" + +"In my capacity as minister. I was summoned to marry her." + +"To marry her?" gasped Kells. + +"Yes. She is Joan Randle, from Hoadley, Idaho. She is over eighteen. +I understood she was detained here against her will. She loved an +honest young miner of the camp. He brought me up here one night. And +I married them." + +"YOU--MARRIED--THEM!" + +"Yes." + +Kells was slow in assimilating the truth and his action corresponded +with his mind. Slowly his hand moved toward his gun. He drew it, +threw it aloft. And then all the terrible evil in the man flamed +forth. But as he deliberately drew down on the preacher Blicky +leaped forward and knocked up the gun. Flash and report followed; +the discharge went into the roof. Blicky grasped Kells's arm and +threw his weight upon it to keep it down. + +"I fetched thet parson here," he yelled, "an you ain't a-goin' to +kill him! ... Help, Jesse! ... He's crazy! He'll do it!" + +Jesse Smith ran to Blicky's aid and tore the gun out of Kells's +hand. Jim Cleve grasped the preacher by the shoulders and, whirling +him around, sent him flying out of the door. + +"Run for your life!" he shouted. + +Blicky and Jesse Smith were trying to hold the lunging Kells. + +"Jim, you block the door," called Jesse. "Bate, you grab any loose +guns an' knives. ... Now, boss, rant an' be damned!" + +They released Kells and backed away, leaving him the room. Joan's +limbs seemed unable to execute her will. + +"Joan! It's true," he exclaimed, with whistling breath. + +"Yes." + +"WHO?" he bellowed. + +"I'll never tell." + +He reached for her with hands like claws, as if he meant to tear +her, rend her. Joan was helpless, weak, terrified. Those shaking, +clutching hands reached for her throat and yet never closed round +it. Kells wanted to kill her, but he could not. He loomed over her, +dark, speechless, locked in his paroxysm of rage. Perhaps then came +a realization of ruin through her. He hated her because he loved +her. He wanted to kill her because of that hate, yet he could not +harm her, even hurt her. And his soul seemed in conflict with two +giants--the evil in him that was hate, and the love that was good. +Suddenly he flung her aside. She stumbled over Pearce's body, almost +falling, and staggered back to the wall. Kells had the center of the +room to himself. Like a mad steer in a corral he gazed about, +stupidly seeking some way to escape. But the escape Kells longed for +was from himself. Then either he let himself go or was unable longer +to control his rage. He began to plunge around. His actions were +violent, random, half insane. He seemed to want to destroy himself +and everything. But the weapons were guarded by his men and the room +contained little he could smash. There was something magnificent in +his fury, yet childish and absurd. Even under its influence and his +abandonment he showed a consciousness of its futility. In a few +moments the inside of the cabin was in disorder and Kells seemed a +disheveled, sweating, panting wretch. The rapidity and violence of +his action, coupled with his fury, soon exhausted him. He fell from +plunging here and there to pacing the floor. And even the dignity of +passion passed from him. He looked a hopeless, beaten, stricken man, +conscious of defeat. + +Jesse Smith approached the bandit leader. "Jack, here's your gun," +he said. "I only took it because you was out of your head. ... An' +listen, boss. There's a few of us left." + +That was Smith's expression of fidelity, and Kells received it with +a pallid, grateful smile. + +"Bate, you an' Jim clean up this mess," went on Smith. "An', Blicky, +come here an' help me with Pearce. We'll have to plant him." + +The stir begun by the men was broken by a sharp exclamation from +Cleve. + +"Kells, here comes Gulden--Beady Jones, Williams, Beard!" + +The bandit raised his head and paced back to where he could look +out. + +Bate Wood made a violent and significant gesture. "Somethin' wrong," +he said, hurriedly. "An' it's more'n to do with Gul! ... Look down +the road. See thet gang. All excited an' wavin' hands an' runnin'. +But they're goin' down into camp." + +Jesse Smith turned a gray face toward Kells. "Boss, there's hell to +pay! I've seen THET kind of excitement before." + +Kells thrust the men aside and looked out. He seemed to draw upon a +reserve strength, for he grew composed even while he gazed. "Jim, +get in the other room," he ordered, sharply. "Joan--you go, too. +Keep still." + +Joan hurried to comply. Jim entered after her and closed the door. +Instinctively they clasped hands, drew close together. + +"Jim, what does it mean?" she whispered, fearfully. "Gulden!" + +"He must be looking for me," replied Jim. "But there's more doing. +Did you see that crowd down the road?" + +"No. I couldn't see out." + +"Listen." + +Heavy tramp boots sounded without. Silently Joan led Jim to the +crack between the boards through which she had spied upon the +bandits. Jim peeped through, and Joan saw his hand go to his gun. +Then she looked. + +Gulden was being crowded into the cabin by fierce, bulging-jawed men +who meant some kind of dark business. The strangest thing about that +entrance was its silence. In a moment they were inside, confronting +Kells with his little group. Beard, Jones, Williams, former faithful +allies of Kells, showed a malignant opposition. And the huge Gulden +resembled an enraged gorilla. For an instant his great, pale, +cavernous eyes glared. He had one hand under his coat and his +position had a sinister suggestion. But Kells stood cool and sure. +When Gulden moved Kells's gun was leaping forth. But he withheld his +fire, for Gulden had only a heavy round object wrapped in a +handkerchief. + +"Look there!" he boomed, and he threw the object on the table. + +The dull, heavy, sodden thump had a familiar ring. Joan heard Jim +gasp and his hand tightened spasmodically upon hers. + +Slowly the ends of the red scarf slid down to reveal an irregularly +round, glinting lump. When Joan recognized it her heart seemed to +burst. + +"Jim Cleve's nugget!" ejaculated Kells. "Where'd you get that?" + +Gulden leaned across the table, his massive jaw working. "I found it +on the miner Creede," replied the giant, stridently. + +Then came a nervous shuffling of boots on the creaky boards. In the +silence a low, dull murmur of distant voices could be heard, +strangely menacing. Kells stood transfixed, white as a sheet. + +"On Creede!" + +"Yes." + +"Where was his--his body?" + +"I left it out on the Bannack trail." + +The bandit leader appeared mute. + +"Kells, I followed Creede out of camp last night," fiercely declared +Gulden. ... "I killed him! ... I found this nugget on him!" + + + + +17 + +Apparently to Kells that nugget did not accuse Jim Cleve of +treachery. Not only did this possibility seem lost upon the bandit +leader, but also the sinister intent of Gulden and his associates. + +"Then Jim didn't kill Creede!" cried Kells. + +A strange light flashed across his face. It fitted the note of +gladness in his exclamation. How strange that in his amaze there +should be relief instead of suspicion! Joan thought she understood +Kells. He was glad that he had not yet made a murderer out of Cleve. + +Gulden appeared slow in rejoining. "I told you I got Creede," he +said. "And we want to know if this says to you what it says to us." + +His huge, hairy hand tapped the nugget. Then Kells caught the +implication. + +"What does it say to you?" he queried, coolly, and he eyed Gulden +and then the grim men behind him. + +"Somebody in the gang is crooked. Somebody's giving you the double- +cross. We've known that for long. Jim Cleve goes out to kill Creede. +He comes in with Creede's gold-belt--and a lie! ... We think Cleve +is the crooked one." + +"No! You're way off, Gulden," replied Kells, earnestly. "That boy is +absolutely square. He's lied to me about Creede. But I can excuse +that. He lost his nerve. He's only a youngster. To knife a man in +his sleep--that was too much for Jim! ... And I'm glad! I see it all +now. Jim's swapped his big nugget for Creede's belt. And in the +bargain he exacted that Creede hit the trail out of camp. You +happened to see Creede and went after him yourself. ... Well, I +don't see where you've any kick coming. For you've ten times the +money in Cleve's nugget that there was in a share of Creede's gold." + +"That's not my kick," declared Gulden. "What you say about Cleve may +be true. But I don't believe it. And the gang is sore. Things have +leaked out. We're watched. We're not welcome in the gambling-places +any more. Last night I was not allowed to sit in the game at +Belcher's." + +"You think Cleve has squealed?" queried Kells. + +"Yes." + +"I'll bet you every ounce of dust I've got that you're wrong," +declared Kells. "A straight, square bet against anything you want to +put up!" + +Kells's ringing voice was nothing if not convincing. + +"Appearances are against Cleve," growled Gulden, dubiously. Always +he had been swayed by the stronger mind of the leader. + +"Sure they are," agreed Kells. + +"Then what do you base your confidence on?" + +"Just my knowledge of men. Jim Cleve wouldn't squeal. ... Gulden, +did anybody tell you that?" + +"Yes," replied Gulden, slowly. "Red Pearce." + +"Pearce was a liar," said Kells, bitterly. "I shot him for lying to +me." + +Gulden stared. His men muttered and gazed at one another and around +the cabin. + +"Pearce told me you set Cleve to kill me," suddenly spoke up the +giant. + +If he expected to surprise Kells he utterly failed. + +"That's another and bigger lie," replied the bandit leader, +disgustedly. "Gulden, do you think my mind's gone?" + +"Not quite," replied Gulden, and he seemed as near a laugh as was +possible for him. + +"Well, I've enough mind left not to set a boy to kill such a man as +you." + +Gulden might have been susceptible to flattery. He turned to his +men. They, too, had felt Kells's subtle influence. They were ready +to veer round like weather-vanes. + +"Red Pearce has cashed, an' he can't talk for himself," said Beady +Jones, as if answering to the unspoken thought of all. + +"Men, between you and me, I had more queer notions about Pearce than +Cleve," announced Gulden, gruffly. "But I never said so because I +had no proof." + +"Red shore was sore an' strange lately," added Chick Williams. "Me +an' him were pretty thick once--but not lately." + +The giant Gulden scratched his head and swore. Probably he had no +sense of justice and was merely puzzled. + +"We're wastin' a lot of time," put in Beard, anxiously. "Don't +fergit there's somethin' comin' off down in camp, an' we ain't sure +what." + +"Bah! Haven't we heard whispers of vigilantes for a week?" queried +Gulden. + +Then some one of the men looked out of the door and suddenly +whistled. + +"Who's thet on a hoss?" + +Gulden's gang crowded to the door. + +"Thet's Handy Oliver." + +"No!" + +"Shore is. I know him. But it ain't his hoss. ... Say, he's +hurryin'." + +Low exclamations of surprise and curiosity followed. Kells and his +men looked attentively, but no one spoke. The clatter of hoofs on +the stony road told of a horse swiftly approaching--pounding to a +halt before the cabin. + +"Handy! ... Air you chased? ... What's wrong? ... You shore look pale +round the gills." These and other remarks were flung out the door. + +"Where's Kells? Let me in," replied Oliver, hoarsely. + +The crowd jostled and split to admit the long, lean Oliver. He +stalked straight toward Kells, till the table alone stood between +them. He was gray of face, breathing hard, resolute and stern. + +"Kells, I throwed--you--down!" he said, with outstretched hand. It +was a gesture of self-condemnation and remorse. + +"What of that?" demanded Kells, with his head leaping like the +strike of an eagle. + +"I'm takin' it back!" + +Kells met the outstretched hand with his own and wrung it. "Handy, I +never knew you to right--about--face. But I'm glad. ... What's +changed you so quickly?" + +"VIGILANTES!" + +Kells's animation and eagerness suddenly froze. "VIGILANTES!" he +ground out. + +"No rumor, Kells, this time. I've sure some news. ... Come close, +all you fellows. You, Gulden, come an' listen. Here's where we git +together closer'n ever." + +Gulden surged forward with his group. Handy Oliver was surrounded by +pale, tight faces, dark-browed and hardeyed. + +He gazed at them, preparing them for a startling revelation. "Men, +of all the white-livered traitors as ever was Red Pearce was the +worst!" he declared, hoarsely. + +No one moved or spoke. + +"AN' HE WAS A VIGILANTE!" + +A low, strange sound, almost a roar, breathed through the group. + +"Listen now an' don't interrupt. We ain't got a lot of time. ... So +never mind how I happened to find out about Pearce. It was all +accident, an' jest because I put two an' two together. ... Pearce +was approached by one of this secret vigilante band, an' he planned +to sell the Border Legion outright. There was to be a big stake in +it for him. He held off day after day, only tippin' off some of the +gang. There's Dartt an' Singleton an' Frenchy an' Texas all caught +red-handed at jobs. Pearce put the vigilantes to watchin' them jest +to prove his claim. ... Aw! I've got the proofs! Jest wait. Listen +to me! ... You all never in your lives seen a snake like Red Pearce. +An' the job he had put up on us was grand. To-day he was to squeal +on the whole gang. You know how he began on Kells--an' how with his +oily tongue he asked a guarantee of no gun-play. But he figgered +Kells wrong for once. He accused Kells's girl an' got killed for his +pains. Mebbe it was part of his plan to git the girl himself. +Anyway, he had agreed to betray the Border Legion to-day. An' if he +hadn't been killed by this time we'd all be tied up, ready for the +noose! ... Mebbe thet wasn't a lucky shot of the boss's. Men, I was +the first to declare myself against Kells, an' I'm here now to say +thet I was a fool. So you've all been fools who've bucked against +him. If this ain't provin' it, what can! + +"But I must hustle with my story. ... They was havin' a trial down +at the big hall, an' thet place was sure packed. No diggin' gold to- +day! ... Think of what thet means for Alder Creek. I got inside +where I could stand on a barrel an' see. Dartt an' Singleton an' +Frenchy an' Texas was bein' tried by a masked court. A man near me +said two of them had been proved guilty. It didn't take long to make +out a case against Texas an' Frenchy. Miners there recognized them +an' identified them. They was convicted an' sentenced to be hung! .. +Then the offer was made to let them go free out of the border if +they'd turn state's evidence an' give away the leader an' men of the +Border Legion. Thet was put up to each prisoner. Dartt he never +answered at all. An' Singleton told them to go to hell. An' Texas he +swore he was only a common an' honest road-agent, an' never heard of +the Legion. But the Frenchman showed a yellow streak. He might have +taken the offer. But Texas cussed him tumble, an' made him ashamed +to talk. But if they git Frenchy away from Texas they'll make him +blab. He's like a greaser. Then there was a delay. The big crowd of +miners yelled for ropes. But the vigilantes are waitin', an' it's my +hunch they're waitin' for Pearce." + +"So! And where do we stand?" cried Kells, clear and cold. + +"We're not spotted yet, thet's certain," replied Oliver, "else them +masked vigilantes would have been on the job before now. But it's +not sense to figger we can risk another day. ... I reckon it's hit +the trail back to Cabin Gulch." + +"Gulden, what do you say?" queried Kells, sharply. + +"I'll go or stay--whatever you want," replied the giant. In this +crisis he seemed to be glad to have Kells decide the issue. And his +followers resembled sheep ready to plunge after the leader. + +But though Kells, by a strange stroke, had been made wholly master +of the Legion, he did not show the old elation or radiance. Perhaps +he saw more clearly than ever before. Still he was quick, decisive, +strong, equal to the occasion. + +"Listen--all of you," he said. "Our horses and outfits are hidden in +a gulch several miles below camp. We've got to go that way. We can't +pack any grub or stuff from here. We'll risk going through camp. Now +leave here two or three at a time, and wait down there on the edge +of the crowd for me. When I come we'll stick together. Then all do +as I do." + +Gulden put the nugget under his coat and strode out, accompanied by +Budd and Jones. They hurried away. The others went in couples. Soon +only Bate Wood and Handy Oliver were left with Kells. + +"Now you fellows go," said Kells. "Be sure to round up the gang down +there and wait for me." + +When they had gone he called for Jim and Joan to come out. + +All this tune Joan's hand had been gripped in Jim's, and Joan had +been so absorbed that she had forgotten the fact. He released her +and faced her, silent, pale. Then he went out. Joan swiftly +followed. + +Kells was buckling on his spurs. "You heard?" he said, the moment he +saw Jim's face. + +"Yes," replied Jim. + +"So much the better. We've got to rustle. ... Joan, put on that long +coat of Cleve's. Take off your mask. ... Jim, get what gold you +have, and hurry. If we're gone when you come back hurry down the +road. I want you with me." + +Cleve stalked out, and Joan ran into her room and put on the long +coat. She had little time to choose what possessions she could take; +and that choice fell upon the little saddle-bag, into which she +hurriedly stuffed comb and brush and soap--all it would hold. Then +she returned to the larger room. + +Kells had lifted a plank of the floor, and was now in the act of +putting small buckskin sacks of gold into his pockets. They made his +coat bulge at the sides. + +"Joan, stick some meat and biscuits in your pockets," he said. "I'd +never get hungry with my pockets full of gold. But you might." + +Joan rummaged around in Bate Wood's rude cupboard. + +"These biscuits are as heavy as gold--and harder," she said. + +Kells flashed a glance at her that held pride, admiration, and +sadness. "You are the gamest girl I ever knew! I wish I'd--But +that's too late! ... Joan, if anything happens to me stick close to +Cleve. I believe you can trust him. Come on now." + +Then he strode out of the cabin. Joan had almost to run to keep up +with him. There were no other men now in sight. She knew that Jim +would follow soon, because his gold-dust was hidden in the cavern +back of her room, and he would not need much time to get it. +Nevertheless, she anxiously looked back. She and Kells had gone +perhaps a couple of hundred yards before Jim appeared, and then he +came on the run. At a point about opposite the first tents he joined +Kells. + +"Jim, how about guns?" asked the bandit. + +"I've got two," replied Cleve. + +"Good! There's no telling--Jim, I'm afraid of the gang. They're +crazy. What do you think?" + +"I don't know. It's a hard proposition." + +"We'll get away, all right. Don't worry about that. But the gang +will never come together again." This singular man spoke with +melancholy. "Slow up a little now," he added. "We don't want to +attract attention. ... But where is there any one to see us? ... Jim, +did I have you figured right about the Creede job?" + +"You sure did. I just lost my nerve." + +"Well, no matter." + +Then Kells appeared to forget that. He stalked on with keen glances +searching everywhere, until suddenly, when he saw round a bend of +the road, he halted with grating teeth. That road was empty all the +way to the other end of camp, but there surged a dark mob of men. +Kells stalked forward again. The Last Nugget appeared like an empty +barn. How vacant and significant the whole center of camp! Kells did +not speak another word. + +Joan hurried on between Kells and Cleve. She was trying to fortify +herself to meet what lay at the end of the road. A strange, hoarse +roar of men and an upflinging of arms made her shudder. She kept her +eyes lowered and clung to the arms of her companions. + +Finally they halted. She felt the crowd before she saw it. A motley +assemblage with what seemed craned necks and intent backs! They were +all looking forward and upward. But she forced her glance down. + +Kells stood still. Jim's grip was hard upon her arm. Presently men +grouped round Kells. She heard whispers. They began to walk slowly, +and she was pushed and led along. More men joined the group. Soon +she and Kells and Jim were hemmed in a circle. Then she saw the huge +form of Gulden, the towering Oliver, and Smith and Blicky, Beard, +Jones, Williams, Budd, and others. The circle they formed appeared +to be only one of many groups, all moving, whispering, facing from +her. Suddenly a sound like the roar of a wave agitated that mass of +men. It was harsh, piercing, unnatural, yet it had a note of wild +exultation. Then came the stamp and surge, and then the upflinging +of arms, and then the abrupt strange silence, broken only by a hiss +or an escaping breath, like a sob. Beyond all Joan's power to resist +was a deep, primitive desire to look. + +There over the heads of the mob--from the bench of the slope--rose +grotesque structures of new-hewn lumber. On a platform stood black, +motionless men in awful contrast with a dangling object that doubled +up and curled upon itself in terrible convulsions. It lengthened +while it swayed; it slowed its action while it stretched. It took on +the form of a man. He swung by a rope round his neck. His head hung +back. His hands beat. A long tremor shook the body; then it was +still, and swayed to and fro, a dark, limp thing. + +Joan's gaze was riveted in horror. A dim, red haze made her vision +imperfect. There was a sickening riot within her. + +There were masked men all around the platform--a solid phalanx of +them on the slope above. They were heavily armed. Other masked men +stood on the platform. They seemed rigid figures--stiff, jerky when +they moved. How different from the two forms swaying below! + +The structure was a rude scaffold and the vigilantes had already +hanged two bandits. + +Two others with hands bound behind their backs stood farther along +the platform under guard. Before each dangled a noose. + +Joan recognized Texas and Frenchy. And on the instant the great +crowd let out a hard breath that ended in silence. + +The masked leader of the vigilantes was addressing Texas: "We'll +spare your life if you confess. Who's the head of this Border +Legion?" + +"Shore it's Red Pearce! ... Haw! Haw! Haw!" + +"We'll give you one more chance," came the curt reply. + +Texas appeared to become serious and somber. "I swear to God it's +Pearce!" he declared. + +"A lie won't save you. Come, the truth! We think we know, but we +want proof! Hurry!" + +"You can go where it's hot!" responded Texas. + +The leader moved his hand and two other masked men stepped forward. + +"Have you any message to send any one--anything to say?" he asked. + +"Nope." + +"Have you any request to make?" + +"Hang that Frenchman before me! I want to see him kick." + +Nothing more was said. The two men adjusted the noose round the +doomed man's neck. Texas refused the black cap. And he did not wait +for the drop to be sprung. He walked off the platform into space as +Joan closed her eyes. + +Again that strange, full, angry, and unnatural roar waved through +the throng of watchers. It was terrible to hear. Joan felt the +violent action of that crowd, although the men close round her were +immovable as stones. She imagined she could never open her eyes to +see Texas hanging there. Yet she did--and something about his form +told her that he had died instantly. He had been brave and loyal +even in dishonor. He had more than once spoken a kind word to her. +Who could tell what had made him an outcast? She breathed a prayer +for his soul. + +The vigilantes were bolstering up the craven Frenchy. He could not +stand alone. They put the rope round his neck and lifted him off the +platform--then let him down. He screamed in his terror. They cut +short his cries by lifting him again. This time they held him up +several seconds. His face turned black. His eyes bulged. His breast +heaved. His legs worked with the regularity of a jumping-jack. They +let him down and loosened the noose. They were merely torturing him +to wring a confession from him. He had been choked severely and +needed a moment to recover. When he did it was to shrink back in +abject terror from that loop of rope dangling before his eyes. + +The vigilante leader shook the noose in his face and pointed to the +swaying forms of the dead bandits. + +Frenchy frothed at the mouth as he shrieked out words in his native +tongue, but any miner there could have translated their meaning. + +The crowd heaved forward, as if with one step, then stood in a +strained silence. + +"Talk English!" ordered the vigilante. + +"I'll tell! I'll tell!" + +Joan became aware of a singular tremor in Kells's arm, which she +still clasped. Suddenly it jerked. She caught a gleam of blue. Then +the bellow of a gun almost split her ears. Powder burned her cheek. +She saw Frenchy double up and collapse on the platform. + +For an instant there was a silence in which every man seemed +petrified. Then burst forth a hoarse uproar and the stamp of many +boots. All in another instant pandemonium broke out. The huge crowd +split in every direction. Joan felt Cleve's strong arm around her-- +felt herself borne on a resistless tide of yelling, stamping, +wrestling men. She had a glimpse of Kells's dark face drawing away +from her; another of Gulden's giant form in Herculean action, +tossing men aside like ninepins; another of weapons aloft. Savage, +wild-eyed men fought to get into the circle whence that shot had +come. They broke into it, but did not know then whom to attack or +what to do. And the rushing of the frenzied miners all around soon +disintegrated Kells's band and bore its several groups in every +direction. There was not another shot fired. + +Joan was dragged and crushed in the melee. Not for rods did her feet +touch the ground. But in the clouds of dust and confusion of +struggling forms she knew Jim still held her, and she clasped him +with all her strength. Presently her feet touched the earth; she was +not jostled and pressed; then she felt free to walk; and with Jim +urging her they climbed a rock-strewn slope till a cabin impeded +further progress. But they had escaped the stream. + +Below was a strange sight. A scaffold shrouded in dust-clouds; a +band of bewildered vigilantes with weapons drawn, waiting for they +knew not what; three swinging, ghastly forms and a dead man on the +platform; and all below, a horde of men trying to escape from one +another. That shot of Kells's had precipitated a rush. No miner knew +who the vigilantes were nor the members of the Border Legion. Every +man there expected a bloody battle--distrusted the man next to him-- +and had given way to panic. The vigilantes had tried to crowd +together for defense and all the others had tried to escape. It was +a wild scene, born of wild justice and blood at fever-heat, the +climax of a disordered time where gold and violence reigned supreme. +It could only happen once, but it was terrible while it lasted. It +showed the craven in men; it proved the baneful influence of gold; +it brought, in its fruition, the destiny of Alder Creek Camp. For it +must have been that the really brave and honest men in vast majority +retraced their steps while the vicious kept running. So it seemed to +Joan. + +She huddled against Jim there in the shadow of the cabin wall, and +not for long did either speak. They watched and listened. The +streams of miners turned back toward the space around the scaffold +where the vigilantes stood grouped, and there rose a subdued roar of +excited voices. Many small groups of men conversed together, until +the vigilante leader brought all to attention by addressing the +populace in general. Joan could not hear what he said and had no +wish to hear. + +"Joan, it all happened so quickly, didn't it?" whispered Jim, +shaking his head as if he was not convinced of reality. + +"Wasn't he--terrible!" whispered Joan in reply. + +"He! Who?" + +"Kells." In her mind the bandit leader dominated all that wild +scene. + +"Terrible, if you like. But I'd say great! ... The nerve of him! In +the face of a hundred vigilantes and thousands of miners! But he +knew what that shot would do!" + +"Never! He never thought of that," declared Joan, earnestly. "I felt +him tremble. I had a glimpse of his face. ... Oh! ... First in his +mind was his downfall, and, second, the treachery of Frenchy. I +think that shot showed Kells as utterly desperate, but weak. He +couldn't have helped it--if that had been the last bullet in his +gun." + +Jim Cleve looked strangely at Joan, as if her eloquence was both +persuasive and incomprehensible. + +"Well, that was a lucky shot for us--and him, too." + +"Do you think he got away?" she asked, eagerly. + +"Sure. They all got away. Wasn't that about the maddest crowd you +ever saw?" + +"No wonder. In a second every man there feared the man next to him +would shoot. That showed the power of Kells's Border Legion. If his +men had been faithful and obedient he never would have fallen." + +"Joan! You speak as if you regret it!" + +"Oh, I am ashamed," replied Joan. "I don't mean that. I don't know +what I do mean. But still I'm sorry for Kells. I suffered so much. ... +Those long, long hours of suspense. ... And his fortunes seemed +my fortunes--my very life--and yours, too, Jim." + +"I think I understand, dear," said Jim, soberly. + +"Jim, what'll we do now? Isn't it strange to feel free?" + +"I feel as queer as you. Let me think," replied Jim. + +They huddled there in comparative seclusion for a long time after +that. Joan tried to think of plans, but her mind seemed, +unproductive. She felt half dazed. Jim, too, appeared to be laboring +under the same kind of burden. Moreover, responsibility had been +added to his. + +The afternoon waned till the sun tipped the high range in the west. +The excitement of the mining populace gradually wore away, and +toward sunset strings of men filed up the road and across the open. +The masked vigilantes disappeared, and presently only a quiet and +curious crowd was left round the grim scaffold and its dark swinging +forms. Joan's one glance showed that the vigilantes had swung +Frenchy's dead body in the noose he would have escaped by treachery. +They had hanged him dead. What a horrible proof of the temper of +these newborn vigilantes! They had left the bandits swinging. What +sight was so appalling as these limp, dark, swaying forms? Dead men +on the ground had a dignity--at least the dignity of death. And +death sometimes had a majesty. But here both life and death had been +robbed and there was only horror. Joan felt that all her life she +would be haunted. + +"Joan, we've got to leave Alder Creek," declared Cleve, finally. He +rose to his feet. The words seemed to have given him decision. "At +first I thought every bandit in the gang would run as far as he +could from here. But--you can't tell what these wild men will do. +Gulden, for instance! Common sense ought to make them hide for a +spell. Still, no matter what's what, we must leave. ... Now, how to +go?" + +"Let's walk. If we buy horses or wait for the stage we'll have to +see men here--and I'm afraid--" + +"But, Joan, there'll be bandits along the road sure. And the trails, +wherever they are, would be less safe." + +"Let's travel by night and rest by day." + +"That won't do, with so far to go and no pack." + +"Then part of the way." + +"No. We'd better take the stage for Bannack. If it starts at all +it'll be under armed guard. The only thing is--will it leave soon? ... +Come, Joan, we'll go down into camp." + +Dusk had fallen and lights had begun to accentuate the shadows. Joan +kept close beside Jim, down the slope, and into the road. She felt +like a guilty thing and every passing man or low-conversing group +frightened her. Still she could not help but see that no one noticed +her or Jim, and she began to gather courage. Jim also acquired +confidence. The growing darkness seemed a protection. The farther up +the street they passed, the more men they met. Again the saloons +were in full blast. Alder Creek had returned to the free, careless +tenor of its way. A few doors this side of the Last Nugget was the +office of the stage and express company. It was a wide tent with the +front canvas cut out and a shelf-counter across the opening. There +was a dim, yellow lamplight. Half a dozen men lounged in front, and +inside were several more, two of whom appeared to be armed guards. +Jim addressed no one in particular. + +"When does the next stage leave for Bannack?" + +A man looked up sharply from the papers that littered a table before +him. "It leaves when we start it," he replied, curtly. + +"Well, when will that be?" + +"What's that to you?" he replied, with a question still more curt. + +"I want to buy seats for two." + +"That's different. Come in and let's look you over. ... Hello! it's +young Cleve. I didn't recognize you. Excuse me. We're a little +particular these days." + +The man's face lighted. Evidently he knew Jim and thought well of +him. This reassured Joan and stilled the furious beating of her +heart. She saw Jim hand over a sack of gold, from which the agent +took the amount due for the passage. Then he returned the sack and +whispered something in Jim's ear. Jim rejoined her and led her away, +pressing her arm close to his side. + +"It's all right," he whispered, excitedly. "Stage leaves just before +daylight. It used to leave in the middle of the fore-noon. But they +want a good start to-morrow." + +"They think it might be held up?" + +"He didn't say so. But there's every reason to suspect that. ... +Joan, I sure hope it won't. Me with all this gold. Why, I feel as if +I weighed a thousand pounds." + +"What'll we do now?" she inquired. + +Jim halted in the middle of the road. It was quite dark now. The +lights of the camp were flaring; men were passing to and fro; the +loose boards on the walks rattled to their tread; the saloons had +begun to hum; and there was a discordant blast from the Last Nugget. + +"That's it--what'll we do?" he asked in perplexity. + +Joan had no idea to advance, but with the lessening of her fear and +the gradual clearing of her mind she felt that she would not much +longer be witless. + +"We've got to eat and get some rest," said Jim, sensibly. + +"I'll try to eat--but I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight," +replied Joan. + +Jim took her to a place kept by a Mexican. It appeared to consist of +two tents, with opening in front and door between. The table was a +plank resting upon two barrels, and another plank, resting upon +kegs, served as a seat. There was a smoking lamp that flickered. The +Mexican's tableware was of a crudeness befitting his house, but it +was clean and he could cook--two facts that Joan appreciated after +her long experience of Bate Wood. She and Jim were the only +customers of the Mexican, who spoke English rather well and was +friendly. Evidently it pleased him to see the meal enjoyed. Both the +food and the friendliness had good effect upon Jim Cleve. He ceased +to listen all the time and to glance furtively out at every +footstep. + +"Joan, I guess it'll turn out all right," he said, clasping her hand +as it rested upon the table. Suddenly he looked bright-eyed and shy. +He leaned toward her. "Do you remember--we are married?" he +whispered. + +Joan was startled. "Of course," she replied hastily. But had she +forgotten? + +"You're my wife." + +Joan looked at him and felt her nerves begin to tingle. A soft, warm +wave stole over her. + +Like a boy he laughed. "This was our first meal together--on our +honeymoon!" + +"Jim!" The blood burned in Joan's face. + +"There you sit--you beautiful ... But you're not a girl now. You're +Dandy Dale." + +"Don't call me that!" exclaimed Joan. + +"But I shall--always. We'll keep that bandit suit always. You can +dress up sometimes to show off--to make me remember--to scare the-- +the kids--" + +"Jim Cleve!" + +"Oh, Joan, I'm afraid to be happy. But I can't help it. We're going +to get away. You belong to me. And I've sacks and sacks of gold- +dust. Lord! I've no idea how much! But you can never spend all the +money. Isn't it just like a dream?" + +Joan smiled through tears, and failed trying to look severe. + +"Get me and the gold away--safe--before you crow," she said. + +That sobered him. He led her out again into the dark street with its +dark forms crossing to and fro before the lights. + +"It's a long time before morning. Where can I take you--so you can +sleep a little?" he muttered. + +"Find a place where we can sit down and wait," she suggested. + +"No." He pondered a moment. "I guess there's no risk." + +Then he led her up the street and through that end of camp out upon +the rough, open slope. They began to climb. The stars were bright, +but even so Joan stumbled often over the stones. She wondered how +Jim could get along so well in the dark and she clung to his arm. +They did not speak often, and then only in whispers. Jim halted +occasionally to listen or to look up at the bold, black bluff for +his bearings. Presently he led her among broken fragments of cliff, +and half carried her over rougher ground, into a kind of shadowy +pocket or niche. + +"Here's where I slept," he whispered. + +He wrapped a blanket round her, and then they sat down against the +rock, and she leaned upon his shoulder. + +"I have your coat and the blanket, too," she said. "Won't you be +cold?" + +He laughed. "Now don't talk any more. You're white and fagged-out. +You need to rest--to sleep." + +"Sleep? How impossible!" she murmured. + +"Why, your eyes are half shut now. ... Anyway, I'll not talk to you. +I want to think." + +"Jim! ... kiss me--good night," she whispered. + +He bent over rather violently, she imagined. His head blotted out +the light of the stars. He held her tightly for a moment. She felt +him shake. Then he kissed her on the cheek and abruptly drew away. +How strange he seemed! + +For that matter, everything was strange. She had never seen the +stars so bright, so full of power, so close. All about her the +shadows gathered protectingly, to hide her and Jim. The silence +spoke. She saw Jim's face in the starlight and it seemed so keen, so +listening, so thoughtful, so beautiful. He would sit there all +night, wide-eyed and alert, guarding her, waiting for the gray of +dawn. How he had changed! And she was his wife! But that seemed only +a dream. It needed daylight and sight of her ring to make that real. + +A warmth and languor stole over her; she relaxed comfortably; after +all, she would sleep. But why did that intangible dread hang on to +her soul? The night was so still and clear and perfect--a radiant +white night of stars--and Jim was there, holding her--and to-morrow +they would ride away. That might be, but dark, dangling shapes +haunted her, back in her mind, and there, too, loomed Kells. Where +was he now? Gone--gone on his bloody trail with his broken fortunes +and his desperate bitterness! He had lost her. The lunge of that +wild mob had parted them. A throb of pain and shame went through +her, for she was sorry. She could not understand why, unless it was +because she had possessed some strange power to instil or bring up +good in him. No woman could have been proof against that. It was +monstrous to know that she had power to turn him from an evil life, +yet she could not do it. It was more than monstrous to realize that +he had gone on spilling blood and would continue to go on when she +could have prevented it--could have saved many poor miners who +perhaps had wives or sweethearts somewhere. Yet there was no help +for it. She loved Jim Cleve. She might have sacrificed herself, but +she would not sacrifice him for all the bandits and miners on the +border. + +Joan felt that she would always be haunted and would always suffer +that pang for Kells. She would never lie down in the peace and quiet +of her home, wherever that might be, without picturing Kells, dark +and forbidding and burdened, pacing some lonely cabin or riding a +lonely trail or lying with his brooding face upturned to the lonely +stars. Sooner or later he would meet his doom. It was inevitable. +She pictured over that sinister scene of the dangling forms; but no-- +Kells would never end that way. Terrible as he was, he had not been +born to be hanged. He might be murdered in his sleep, by one of that +band of traitors who were traitors because in the nature of evil +they had to be. But more likely some gambling-hell, with gold and +life at stake, would see his last fight. These bandits stole gold +and gambled among themselves and fought. And that fight which +finished Kells must necessarily be a terrible one. She seemed to see +into a lonely cabin where a log fire burned low and lamps flickered +and blue smoke floated in veils and men lay prone on the floor-- +Kells, stark and bloody, and the giant Gulden, dead at last and more +terrible in death, and on the rude table bags of gold and dull, +shining heaps of gold, and scattered on the floor, like streams of +sand and useless as sand, dust of gold--the Destroyer. + + + + +18 + +All Joan's fancies and dreams faded into obscurity, and when she was +aroused it seemed she had scarcely closed her eyes. But there was +the gray gloom of dawn. Jim was shaking her gently. + +"No, you weren't sleepy--it's just a mistake," he said, helping her +to arise. "Now we'll get out of here." + +They threaded a careful way out of the rocks, then hurried down the +slope. In the grayness Joan saw the dark shape of a cabin and it +resembled the one Kells had built. It disappeared. Presently when +Jim led her into a road she felt sure that this cabin had been the +one where she had been a prisoner for so long. They hurried down the +road and entered the camp. There were no lights. The tents and +cabins looked strange and gloomy. The road was empty. Not a sound +broke the stillness. At the bend Joan saw a stage-coach and horses +looming up in what seemed gray distance. Jim hurried her on. + +They reached the stage. The horses were restive. The driver was on +the seat, whip and reins in hand. Two men sat beside him with rifles +across their knees. The door of the coach hung open. There were men +inside, one of whom had his head out of the window. The barrel of a +rifle protruded near him. He was talking in a low voice to a man +apparently busy at the traces. + +"Hello, Cleve! You're late," said another man, evidently the agent. +"Climb aboard. When'll you be back?" + +"I hardly know," replied Cleve, with hesitation. + +"All right. Good luck to you." He closed the coach door after Joan +and Jim. "Let 'em go, Bill." + +The stage started with a jerk. To Joan what an unearthly creak and +rumble it made, disturbing the silent dawn! Jim squeezed her hand +with joy. They were on the way! + +Joan and Jim had a seat to themselves. Opposite sat three men--the +guard with his head half out of the window, a bearded miner who +appeared stolid or drowsy, and a young man who did not look rough +and robust enough for a prospector. None of the three paid any +particular attention to Joan and Jim. + +The road had a decided slope down-hill, and Bill, the driver, had +the four horses on a trot. The rickety old stage appeared to be +rattling to pieces. It lurched and swayed, and sometimes jolted over +rocks and roots. Joan was hard put to it to keep from being bumped +off the seat. She held to a brace on one side and to Jim on the +other. And when the stage rolled down into the creek and thumped +over boulders Joan made sure that every bone in her body would be +broken. This crossing marked the mouth of the gulch, and on the +other side the road was smooth. + +"We're going the way we came," whispered Jim in her ear. + +This was surprising, for Joan had been sure that Bannack lay in the +opposite direction. Certainly this fact was not reassuring to her. +Perhaps the road turned soon. + +Meanwhile the light brightened, the day broke, and the sun reddened +the valley. Then it was as light inside the coach as outside. Joan +might have spared herself concern as to her fellow-passengers. The +only one who noticed her was the young man, and he, after a stare +and a half-smile, lapsed into abstraction. He looked troubled, and +there was about him no evidence of prosperity. Jim held her hand +under a fold of the long coat, and occasionally he spoke of +something or other outside that caught his eye. And the stage rolled +on rapidly, seemingly in pursuit of the steady roar of hoofs. + +Joan imagined she recognized the brushy ravine out of which Jesse +Smith had led that day when Kells's party came upon the new road. +She believed Jim thought so, too, for he gripped her hand unusually +hard. Beyond that point Joan began to breathe more easily. There +seemed no valid reason now why every mile should not separate them +farther from the bandits, and she experienced relief. + +Then the time did not drag so. She wanted to talk to Jim, yet did +not, because of the other passengers. Jim himself appeared +influenced by their absorption in themselves. Besides, the keen, +ceaseless vigilance of the guard was not without its quieting +effect. Danger lurked ahead in the bends of that road. Joan +remembered hearing Kells say that the Bannack stage had never been +properly held up by road-agents, but that when he got ready for the +job it would be done right. Riding grew to be monotonous and +tiresome. With the warmth of the sun came the dust and flies, and +all these bothered Joan. She did not have her usual calmness, and as +the miles steadily passed her nervousness increased. + +The road left the valley and climbed between foot-hills and wound +into rockier country. Every dark gulch brought to Joan a trembling, +breathless spell. What places for ambush! But the stage bowled on. + +At last her apprehensions wore out and she permitted herself the +luxury of relaxing, of leaning back and closing her eyes. She was +tired, drowsy, hot. There did not seem to be a breath of air. + +Suddenly Joan's ears burst to an infernal crash of guns. She felt +the whip and sting of splinters sent flying by bullets. Harsh yells +followed, then the scream of a horse in agony, the stage lurching +and slipping to a halt, and thunder of heavy guns overhead. + +Jim yelled at her--threw her down on the seat. She felt the body of +the guard sink against her knees. Then she seemed to feel, to hear +through an icy, sickening terror. + +A scattering volley silenced the guns above. Then came the pound of +hoofs, the snort of frightened horses. + +"Jesse Smith! Stop!" called Jim, piercingly. + +"Hold on thar, Beady!" replied a hoarse voice. "Damn if it ain't Jim +Cleve!" + +"Ho, Gul!" yelled another voice, and Joan recognized it as Blicky's. + +Then Jim lifted her head, drew her up. He was white with fear. + +"Dear--are--you--hurt?" + +"No. I'm only--scared," she replied. + +Joan looked out to see bandits on foot, guns in hand, and others +mounted, all gathering near the coach. Jim opened the door, and, +stepping out, bade her follow. Joan had to climb over the dead +guard. The miner and the young man huddled down on their seat. + +"If it ain't Jim an' Kells's girl--Dandy Dale!" ejaculated Smith. +"Fellers, this means somethin'. ... Say, youngster, hope you ain't +hurt--or the girl?" + +"No. But that's not your fault," replied Cleve. "Why did you want to +plug the coach full of lead?" + +"This beats me," said Smith. "Kells sent you out in the stage! But +when he gave us the job of holdin' it up he didn't tell us you'd be +in there. ... When an' where'd you leave him?" + +"Sometime last night--in camp--near our cabin," replied Jim, quick +as a flash. Manifestly he saw his opportunity "He left Dandy Dale +with me. Told us to take the stage this morning. I expected him to +be in it or to meet us." + +"Didn't you have no orders?" + +"None, except to take care of the girl till he came. But he did tell +me he'd have more to say." + +Smith gazed blankly from Cleve to Blicky, and then at Gulden, who +came slowly forward, his hair ruffed, his gun held low. Joan +followed the glance of his great gray eyes, and she saw the stage- +driver hanging dead over his seat, and the guards lying back of him. +The off-side horse of the leaders lay dead in his traces, with his +mate nosing at him. + +"Who's in there?" boomed Gulden, and he thrust hand and gun in at +the stage door. "Come out!" + +The young man stumbled out, hands above his head, pallid and +shaking, so weak he could scarcely stand. + +Gulden prodded the bearded miner. "Come out here, you!" + +The man appeared to be hunched forward in a heap. + +"Guess he's plugged," said Smith. "But he ain't cashed. Hear him +breathe? ... Heaves like a sick hoss." + +Gulden reached with brawny arm and with one pull he dragged the +miner off the seat and out into the road, where he flopped with a +groan. There was blood on his neck and hands. Gulden bent over him, +tore at his clothes, tore harder at something, and then, with a +swing, he held aloft a broad, black belt, sagging heavy with gold. + +"Hah!" he boomed. It was just an exclamation, horrible to hear, but +it did not express satisfaction or exultation. He handed the gold- +belt to the grinning Budd, and turned to the young man. + +"Got any gold?" + +"No. I--I wasn't a miner," replied the youth huskily. + +Gulden felt for a gold-belt, then slapped at his pockets. "Turn +round!" ordered the giant. + +"Aw, Gul let him go!" remonstrated Jesse Smith. + +Blicky laid a restraining hand upon Gulden's broad shoulder. + +"Turn round!" repeated Gulden, without the slightest sign of +noticing his colleagues. + +But the youth understood and he turned a ghastly livid hue. + +"For God's sake--don't murder me!" he gasped. "I had--nothing--no +gold--no gun!" + +Gulden spun him round like a top and pushed him forward. They went +half a dozen paces, then the youth staggered, and turning, he fell +on his knees. + +"Don't--kill--me!" he entreated. + +Joan, seeing Jim Cleve stiffen and crouch, thought of him even in +that horrible moment; and she gripped his arm with all her might. +They must endure. + +The other bandits muttered, but none moved a hand. + +Gulden thrust out the big gun. His hair bristled on his head, and +his huge frame seemed instinct with strange vibration, like some +object of tremendous weight about to plunge into resistless +momentum. + +Even the stricken youth saw his doom. "Let--me--pray!" he begged. + +Joan did not fault, but a merciful unclamping of muscle-bound +rigidity closed her eyes. + +"Gul!" yelled Blicky, with passion. "I ain't a-goin' to let you kill +this kid! There's no sense in it. We're spotted back in Alder Creek. ... +Run, kid! Run!" + +Then Joan opened her eyes to see the surly Gulden's arm held by +Blicky, and the youth running blindly down the road. Joan's relief +and joy were tremendous. But still she answered to the realizing +shock of what Gulden had meant to do. She leaned against Cleve, all +within and without a whirling darkness of fire. The border wildness +claimed her then. She had the spirit, though not the strength, to +fight. She needed the sight and sound of other things to restore her +equilibrium. She would have welcomed another shock, an injury. And +then she was looking down upon the gasping miner. He was dying. +Hurriedly Joan knelt beside him to lift his head. At her call Cleve +brought a canteen. But the miner could not drink and he died with +some word unspoken. + +Dizzily Joan arose, and with Cleve half supporting her she backed +off the road to a seat on the bank. She saw the bandits now at +business-like action. Blicky and Smith were cutting the horses out +of their harness: Beady Jones, like a ghoul, searched the dead men; +the three bandits whom Joan knew only by sight were making up a +pack; Budd was standing beside the stage with his, expectant grin; +and Gulden, with the agility of the gorilla he resembled, was +clambering over the top of the stage. Suddenly from under the +driver's seat he hauled a buckskin sack. It was small, but heavy. He +threw it down to Budd, almost knocking over that bandit. Budd hugged +the sack and yelled like an Indian. The other men whooped and ran +toward him. Gulden hauled out another sack. Hands to the number of a +dozen stretched clutchingly. When he threw the sack there was a mad +scramble. They fought, but it was only play. They were gleeful. +Blicky secured the prize and he held it aloft in triumph. Assuredly +he would have waved it had it not been so heavy. Gulden drew out +several small sacks, which he provokingly placed on the seat in +front of him. The bandits below howled in protest. Then the giant, +with his arm under the seat, his huge frame bowed, heaved powerfully +upon something, and his face turned red. He halted in his tugging to +glare at his bandit comrades below. If his great cavernous eyes +expressed any feeling it was analogous to the reluctance manifest in +his posture--he regretted the presence of his gang. He would rather +have been alone. Then with deep-muttered curse and mighty heave he +lifted out a huge buckskin sack, tied and placarded and marked. + +"ONE HUNDRED POUNDS!" he boomed. + +It seemed to Joan then that a band of devils surrounded the stage, +all roaring at the huge, bristling demon above, who glared and +bellowed down at them. + +Finally Gulden stilled the tumult, which, after all, was one of +frenzied joy. + +"Share and share alike!" he thundered, now black in the face. "Do +you fools want to waste time here on the road, dividing up this +gold?" + +"What you say goes," shouted Budd. + +There was no dissenting voice. + +"What a stake!" ejaculated Blicky. "Gul, the boss had it figgered. +Strange, though, he hasn't showed up!" + +"Where'll we go?" queried Gulden. "Speak up, you men." + +The unanimous selection was Cabin Gulch. Plainly Gulden did not like +this, but he was just. + +"All right. Cabin Gulch it is. But nobody outside of Kells and us +gets a share in this stake." + +Many willing hands made short work of preparation. Gulden insisted +on packing all the gold upon his saddle, and had his will. He seemed +obsessed; he never glanced at Joan. It was Jesse Smith who gave the +directions and orders. One of the stage-horses was packed. Another, +with a blanket for a saddle, was given Cleve to ride. Blicky +gallantly gave his horse to Joan, shortened his stirrups to fit her, +and then whistled at the ridgy back of the stage-horse he elected to +ride. Gulden was in a hurry, and twice he edged off, to be halted by +impatient calls. Finally the cavalcade was ready; Jesse Smith gazed +around upon the scene with the air of a general overlooking a +vanquished enemy. + +"Whoever fust runs acrost this job will have blind staggers, don't +you forgit thet!" + +"What's Kells goin' to figger?" asked Blicky, sharply. + +"Nothin' fer Kells! He wasn't in at the finish!" declared Budd. + +Blicky gazed darkly at him, but made no comment. + +"I tell you Blick, I can't git this all right in my head," said +Smith. + +"Say, ask Jim again. Mebbe, now the job's done, he can talk," +suggested Blicky. + +Jim Cleve heard and appeared ready for that question. + +"I don't know much more than I told you. But I can guess. Kells had +this big shipment of gold spotted. He must have sent us in the stage +for some reason. He said he'd tell me what to expect and do. But he +didn't come back. Sure he knew you'd do the job. And just as sure he +expected to be on hand. He'll turn up soon." + +This ruse of Jim's did not sound in the least logical or plausible +to Joan, but it was readily accepted by the bandits. Apparently what +they knew of Kells's movements and plans since the break-up at Alder +Creek fitted well with Cleve's suggestions. + +"Come on!" boomed Gulden, from the fore. "Do you want to rot here?" + +Then without so much as a backward glance at the ruin they left +behind the bandits fell into line. Jesse Smith led straight off the +road into a shallow brook and evidently meant to keep in it. Gulden +followed; next came Beady Jones; then the three bandits with the +pack-horse and the other horses; Cleve and Joan, close together, +filed in here; and last came Budd and Blicky. It was rough, slippery +traveling and the riders spread out. Cleve, however, rode beside +Joan. Once, at an opportune moment, he leaned toward her. + +"We'd better run for it at the first chance," he said, somberly. + +"No! ... GULDEN!" Joan had to moisten her lips to speak the +monster's name. + +"He'll never think of you while he has all that gold." + +Joan's intelligence grasped this, but her morbid dread, terribly +augmented now, amounted almost to a spell. Still, despite the +darkness of her mind, she had a flash of inspiration and of spirit. + +"Kells is my only hope! ... If he doesn't join us soon--then we'll +run! ... And if we can't escape that"--Joan made a sickening gesture +toward the fore--"you must kill me before--before--" + +Her voice trailed off, failing. + +"I will!" he promised through locked teeth. + +And then they rode on, with dark, faces bent over the muddy water +and treacherous stones. + +When Jesse Smith led out of that brook it was to ride upon bare +rock. He was not leaving any trail. Horses and riders were of no +consideration. And he was a genius for picking hard ground and +covering it. He never slackened his gait, and it seemed next to +impossible to keep him in sight. + +For Joan the ride became toil and the toil became pain. But there +was no rest. Smith kept mercilessly onward. Sunset and twilight and +night found the cavalcade still moving. Then it halted just as Joan +was about to succumb. Jim lifted her off her horse and laid her upon +the grass. She begged for water, and she drank and drank. But she +wanted no food. There was a heavy, dull beating in her ears, a band +tight round her forehead. She was aware of the gloom, of the +crackling of fires, of leaping shadows, of the passing of men to and +fro near her, and, most of all, rendering her capable of a saving +shred of self-control, she was aware of Jim's constant companionship +and watchfulness. Then sounds grew far off and night became a blur. + +Morning when it came seemed an age removed from that hideous night. +Her head had cleared, and but for the soreness of body and limb she +would have begun the day strong. There appeared little to eat and no +time to prepare it. Gulden was rampant for action. Like a miser he +guarded the saddle packed with gold. This tune his comrades were as +eager as he to be on the move. All were obsessed by the presence of +gold. Only one hour loomed in their consciousness--that of the hour +of division. How fatal and pitiful and terrible! Of what possible +use or good was gold to them? + +The ride began before sunrise. It started and kept on at a steady +trot. Smith led down out of the rocky slopes and fastnesses into +green valleys. Jim Cleve, riding bareback on a lame horse, had his +difficulties. Still he kept close beside or behind Joan all the way. +They seldom spoke, and then only a word relative to this stern +business of traveling in the trail of a hard-riding bandit. Joan +bore up better this day, as far as her mind was concerned. +Physically she had all she could do to stay in the saddle. She +learned of what steel she was actually made--what her slender frame +could endure. That day's ride seemed a thousand miles long, and +never to end. Yet the implacable Smith did finally halt, and that +before dark. + +Camp was made near water. The bandits were a jovial lot, despite a +lack of food. They talked of the morrow. All--the world--lay beyond +the next sunrise. Some renounced their pipes and sought their rest +just to hurry on the day. But Gulden, tireless, sleepless, eternally +vigilant, guarded the saddle of gold and brooded over it, and seemed +a somber giant carved out of the night. And Blicky, nursing some +deep and late-developed scheme, perhaps in Kells's interest or his +own, kept watch over Gulden and all. + +Jim cautioned Joan to rest, and importuned her and promised to watch +while she slept. + +Joan saw the stars through her shut eyelids. All the night seemed to +press down and softly darken. + +The sun was shining red when the cavalcade rode up Cabin Gulch. The +grazing cattle stopped to watch and the horses pranced and whistled. +There were flowers and flitting birds, and glistening dew on leaves, +and a shining swift flow of water--the brightness of morning and +nature smiled in Cabin Gulch. + +Well indeed Joan remembered the trail she had ridden so often. How +that clump of willow where first she had confronted Jim thrilled her +now! The pines seemed welcoming her. The gulch had a sense of home +in it for her, yet it was fearful. How much had happened there! What +might yet happen! + +Then a clear, ringing call stirred her pulse. She glanced up the +slope. Tall and straight and dark, there on the bench, with hand +aloft, stood the bandit Kells. + + + + +19 + +The weary, dusty cavalcade halted on the level bench before the +bandit's cabin. Gulden boomed a salute to Kells. The other men +shouted greeting. In the wild exultation of triumph they still held +him as chief. But Kells was not deceived. He even passed by that +heavily laden, gold-weighted saddle. He had eyes only for Joan. + +"Girl, I never was so glad to see any one!" he exclaimed in husky +amaze. "How did it happen? I never--" + +Jim Cleve leaned over to interrupt Kells. "It was great, Kells--that +idea of yours putting us in the stagecoach you meant to hold up," +said Cleve, with a swift, meaning glance. "But it nearly was the end +of us. You didn't catch up. The gang didn't know we were inside, and +they shot the old stage full of holes." + +"Aha! So that's it," replied Kells, slowly. "But the main point is-- +you brought her through. Jim, I can't ever square that." + +"Oh, maybe you can," laughed Cleve, as he dismounted. + +Suddenly Kells became aware of Joan's exhaustion and distress. +"Joan, you're not hurt?" he asked in swift anxiety. + +"No, only played out." + +"You look it. Come." He lifted her out of the saddle and, half +carrying, half leading her, took her into the cabin, and through the +big room to her old apartment. How familiar it seemed to Joan! A +ground-squirrel frisked along a chink between the logs, chattering +welcome. The place was exactly as Joan had left it. + +Kells held Joan a second, as if he meant to embrace her, but he did +not. "Lord, it's good to see you! I never expected to again. ... But +you can tell me all about yourself after you rest. ... I was just +having breakfast. I'll fetch you some." + +"Were you alone here?" asked Joan. + +"Yes. I was with Bate and Handy--" + +"Hey, Kells!" roared the gang, from the outer room. + +Kells held aside the blanket curtain so that Joan was able to see +through the door. The men were drawn up in a half-circle round the +table, upon which were the bags of gold. + +Kells whistled low. "Joan, there'll be trouble now," he said, "but +don't you fear. I'll not forget you." + +Despite his undoubted sincerity Joan felt a subtle change in him, +and that, coupled with the significance of his words, brought a +return of the strange dread. Kells went out and dropped the curtain +behind him. Joan listened. + +"Share and share alike!" boomed the giant Gulden. + +"Say!" called Kells, gaily, "aren't you fellows going to eat first?" + +Shouts of derision greeted his sally. + +"I'll eat gold-dust," added Budd. + +"Have it your own way, men," responded Kells. "Blicky, get the +scales down off of that shelf. ... Say, I'll bet anybody I'll have +the most dust by sundown." + +More shouts of derision were flung at him. + +"Who wants to gamble now?" + +"Boss, I'll take thet bet." + +"Haw! Haw! You won't look so bright by sundown." + +Then followed a moment's silence, presently broken by a clink of +metal on the table. + +"Boss, how'd you ever git wind of this big shipment of gold?" asked +Jesse Smith. + +"I've had it spotted. But Handy Oliver was the scout." + +"We'll shore drink to Handy!" exclaimed one of the bandits. + +"An' who was sendin' out this shipment?" queried the curious Smith. +"Them bags are marked all the same." + +"It was a one-man shipment," replied Kells. "Sent out by the boss +miner of Alder Creek. They call him Overland something." + +That name brought Joan to her feet with a thrilling fire. Her uncle, +old Bill Hoadley, was called "Overland." Was it possible that the +bandits meant him? It could hardly be; that name was a common one in +the mountains. + +"Shore, I seen Overland lots of times," said Budd. "An' he got wise +to my watchin' him." + +"Somebody tipped it off that the Legion was after his gold," went on +Kells. "I suppose we have Pearce to thank for that. But it worked +out well for us. The hell we raised there at the lynching must have +thrown a scare into Overland. He had nerve enough to try to send his +dust to Bannack on the very next stage. He nearly got away with it, +too. For it was only lucky accident that Handy heard the news." + +The name Overland drew Joan like a magnet and she arose to take her +old position, where she could peep in upon the bandits. One glance +at Jim Cleve told her that he, too, had been excited by the name. +Then it occurred to Joan that her uncle could hardly have been at +Alder Creek without Jim knowing it. Still, among thousands of men, +all wild and toiling and self-sufficient, hiding their identities, +anything might be possible. After a few moments, however, Joan +leaned to the improbability of the man being her uncle. + +Kells sat down before the table and Blicky stood beside him with the +gold-scales. The other bandits lined up opposite. Jim Cleve stood to +one side, watching, brooding. + +"You can't weigh it all on these scales," said Blicky. + +"That's sure," replied Kells. "We'll divide the small bags first. ... +Ten shares--ten equal parts! ... Spill out the bags. Blick. And +hurry. Look how hungry Gulden looks! ... Somebody cook your +breakfast while we divide the gold." + +"Haw! Haw!" + +"Ho! Ho!" + +"Who wants to eat?" + +The bandits were gay, derisive, scornful, eager, like a group of +boys, half surly, half playful, at a game. + +"Wal, I shore want to see my share weighted," drawled Budd. + +Kells moved--his gun flashed--he slammed it hard upon the table. + +"Budd, do you question my honesty?" he asked, quick and hard. + +"No offense, boss. I was just talkin'." + +That quick change of Kells's marked a subtle difference in the +spirit of the bandits and the occasion. Gaiety and good humor and +badinage ended. There were no more broad grins or friendly leers or +coarse laughs. Gulden and his groups clustered closer to the table, +quiet, intense, watchful, suspicious. + +It did not take Kells and his assistant long to divide the smaller +quantity of the gold. + +"Here, Gulden," he said, and handed the giant a bag. Jesse. ... +Bossert. ... Pike. ... Beady. ... Braverman ... "Blicky." + +"Here, Jim Cleve, get in the game," he added, throwing a bag at Jim. +It was heavy. It hit Jim with a thud and dropped to the ground. He +stooped to reach it. + +"That leaves one for Handy and one for me," went on Kells. "Blicky, +spill out the big bag." + +Presently Joan saw a huge mound of dull, gleaming yellow. The color +of it leaped to the glinting eyes of the bandits. And it seemed to +her that a shadow hovered over them. The movements of Kells grew +tense and hurried. Beads of sweat stood out upon his brow. His hands +were not steady. + +Soon larger bags were distributed to the bandits. That broke the +waiting, the watchfulness, but not the tense eagerness. The bandits +were now like leashed hounds. Blicky leaned before Kells and hit the +table with his fist. + +"Boss, I've a kick comin'," he said. + +"Come on with it," replied the leader. + +"Ain't Gulden a-goin' to divide up thet big nugget?" + +"He is if he's square." + +A chorus of affirmatives from the bandits strengthened Kells's +statement. Gulden moved heavily and ponderously, and he pushed some +of his comrades aside to get nearer to Kells. + +"Wasn't it my right to do a job by myself--when I wanted?" he +demanded. + +"No. I agreed to let you fight when you wanted. To kill a man when +you liked! ... That was the agreement." + +"What'd I kill a man for?" + +No one answered that in words, but the answer was there, in dark +faces. + +"I know what I meant," continued Gulden. "And I'm going to keep this +nugget." + +There was a moment's silence. It boded ill to the giant. + +"So--he declares himself," said Blicky, hotly. "Boss, what you say +goes." + +"Let him keep it," declared Kells, scornfully. "I'll win it from him +and divide it with the gang." + +That was received with hoarse acclaims by all except Gulden. He +glared sullenly. Kells stood up and shook a long finger in the +giant's face. + +"I'll win your nugget," he shouted. "I'll beat you at any game. ... +I call your hand. ... Now if you've got any nerve!" + +"Come on!" boomed the giant, and he threw his gold down upon the +table with a crash. + +The bandits closed in around the table with sudden, hard violence, +all crowding for seats. + +"I'm a-goin' to set in the game!" yelled Blicky. + +"We'll all set in," declared Jesse Smith. + +"Come on!" was Gulden's acquiescence. + +"But we all can't play at once," protested Kells. "Let's make up two +games." + +"Naw!" + +"Some of you eat, then, while the others get cleaned out." + +"Thet's it--cleaned out!" ejaculated Budd, meanly. "You seem to be +sure, Kells. An' I guess I'll keep shady of thet game." + +"That's twice for you, Budd," flashed the bandit leader. "Beware of +the third time!" + +"Hyar, fellers, cut the cards fer who sets in an' who sets out," +called Blicky, and he slapped a deck of cards upon the table. + +With grim eagerness, as if drawing lots against fate, the bandits +bent over and drew cards. Budd, Braverman, and Beady Jones were the +ones excluded from the game. + +"Beady, you fellows unpack those horses and turn them loose. And +bring the stuff inside," said Kells. + +Budd showed a surly disregard, but the other two bandits got up +willingly and went out. + +Then the game began, with only Cleve standing, looking on. The +bandits were mostly silent; they moved their hands, and occasionally +bent forward. It was every man against his neighbor. Gulden seemed +implacably indifferent and played like a machine. Blicky sat eager +and excited, under a spell. Jesse Smith was a slow, cool, shrewed +gambler. Bossert and Pike, two ruffians almost unknown to Joan, +appeared carried away by their opportunity. And Kells began to wear +that strange, rapt, weak expression that gambling gave him. + +Presently Beady Jones and Braverman bustled in, carrying the packs. +Then Budd jumped up and ran to them. He returned to the table, +carrying a demijohn, which he banged upon the table. + +"Whisky!" exclaimed Kells. "Take that away. We can't drink and +gamble." + +"Watch me!" replied Blicky. + +"Let them drink, Kells," declared Gulden. "We'll get their dust +quicker. Then we can have our game." + +Kells made no more comment. The game went on and the aspect of it +changed. When Kells himself began to drink, seemingly unconscious of +the fact, Joan's dread increased greatly, and, leaving the peep- +hole, she lay back upon the bed. Always a sword had hung over her +head. Time after time by some fortunate circumstance or by courage +or wit or by an act of Providence she had escaped what strangely +menaced. Would she escape it again? For she felt the catastrophe +coming. Did Jim recognize that fact? Remembering the look on his +face, she was assured that he did. Then he would be quick to seize +upon any possible chance to get her away; and always he would be +between her and those bandits. At most, then, she had only death to +fear--death that he would mercifully deal to her if the worst came. +And as she lay there listening to the slow-rising murmur of the +gamblers, with her thought growing clearer, she realized it was love +of Jim and fear for him--fear that he would lose her--that caused +her cold dread and the laboring breath and the weighted heart. She +had cost Jim this terrible experience and she wanted to make up to +him for it, to give him herself and all her life. + +Joan lay there a long time, thinking and suffering, while the +strange, morbid desire to watch Kells and Gulden grew stronger and +stronger, until it was irresistible. Her fate, her life, lay in the +balance between these two men. She divined that. + +She returned to her vantage-point, and as she glanced through she +vibrated to a shock. The change that had begun subtly, intangibly, +was now a terrible and glaring difference. That great quantity of +gold, the equal chance of every gambler, the marvelous possibilities +presented to evil minds, and the hell that hid in that black bottle +--these had made playthings of every bandit except Gulden. He was +exactly the same as ever. But to see the others sent a chill of ice +along Joan's veins. Kells was white and rapt. Plain to see--he had +won! Blicky was wild with rage. Jesse Smith sat darker, grimmer, but +no longer cool. There was hate in the glance he fastened upon Kells +as he bet. Beady Jones and Braverman showed an inflamed and impotent +eagerness to take their turn. Budd sat in the game now, and his face +wore a terrible look. Joan could not tell what passion drove him, +but she knew he was a loser. Pike and Bossert likewise were losers, +and stood apart, sullen, watching with sick, jealous rage. Jim Cleve +had reacted to the strain, and he was white, with nervous, clutching +hands and piercing glances. And the game went on with violent slap +of card or pound of fist upon the table, with the slide of a bag of +gold or the little, sodden thump of its weight, with savage curses +at loss and strange, raw exultation at gain, with hurry and +violence--more than all, with the wildness of the hour and the +wildness of these men, drawing closer and closer to the dread climax +that from the beginning had been foreshadowed. + +Suddenly Budd rose and bent over the table, his cards clutched in a +shaking hand, his face distorted and malignant, his eyes burning at +Kells. Passionately he threw the cards down. + +"There!" he yelled, hoarsely, and he stilled the noise. + +"No good!" replied Kells, tauntingly. "Is there any other game you +play?" + +Budd bent low to see the cards in Kells's hand, and then, +straightening his form, he gazed with haggard fury at the winner. +"You've done me! ... I'm cleaned--I'm busted!" he raved. + +"You were easy. Get out of the game," replied Kells, with an +exultant contempt. It was not the passion of play that now obsessed +him, but the passion of success. + +"I said you done me," burst out Budd, insanely. "You're slick with +the cards!" + +The accusation acted like magic to silence the bandits, to check +movement, to clamp the situation. Kells was white and radiant; he +seemed careless and nonchalant. + +"All right, Budd," he replied, but his tone did not suit his strange +look. "That's three times for you!" + +Swift as a flash he shot. Budd fell over Gulden, and the giant with +one sweep of his arm threw the stricken bandit off. Budd fell +heavily, and neither moved nor spoke. + +"Pass me the bottle," went on Kells, a little hoarse shakiness in +his voice. "And go on with the game!" + +"Can I set in now?" asked Beady Jones, eagerly. + +"You and Jack wait. This's getting to be all between Kells an' me," +said Gulden. + +"We've sure got Blicky done!" exclaimed Kells. There was something +taunting about the leader's words. He did not care for the gold. It +was the fight to win. It was his egotism. + +"Make this game faster an' bigger, will you?" retorted Blicky, who +seemed inflamed. + +"Boss, a little luck makes you lofty," interposed Jesse Smith in +dark disdain. "Pretty soon you'll show yellow clear to your +gizzard!" + +The gold lay there on the table. It was only a means to an end. It +signified nothing. The evil, the terrible greed, the brutal lust, +were in the hearts of the men. And hate, liberated, rampant, stalked +out unconcealed, ready for blood. + +"Gulden, change the game to suit these gents," taunted Kells. + +"Double stakes. Cut the cards!" boomed the giant, instantly. + +Blicky lasted only a few more deals of the cards, then he rose, +loser of all his share, a passionate and venomous bandit, ready for +murder. But he kept his mouth shut and looked wary. + +"Boss, can't we set in now?" demanded Beady Jones. + +"Say, Beady, you're in a hurry to lose your gold," replied Kells. +"Wait till I beat Gulden and Smith." + +Luck turned against Jesse Smith. He lost first to Gulden, then to +Kells, and presently he rose, a beaten, but game man. He reached for +the whisky. + +"Fellers, I reckon I can enjoy Kells's yellow streak more when I +ain't playin'," he said. + +The bandit leader eyed Smith with awakening rancor, as if a +persistent hint of inevitable weakness had its effect. He frowned, +and the radiance left his face for the forbidding cast. + +"Stand around, you men, and see some real gambling," he said. + +At this moment in the contest Kells had twice as much gold as +Gulden, there being a huge mound of little buckskin sacks in front +of him. + +They began staking a bag at a time and cutting the cards, the higher +card winning. Kells won the first four cuts. How strangely that +radiance returned to his face! Then he lost and won, and won and +lost. The other bandits grouped around, only Jones and Braverman now +manifesting any eagerness. All were silent. There were suspense, +strain, mystery in the air. Gulden began to win consistently and +Kells began to change. It was a sad and strange sight to see this +strong man's nerve and force gradually deteriorate under a fickle +fortune. The time came when half the amount he had collected was in +front of Gulden. The giant was imperturbable. He might have been a +huge animal, or destiny, or something inhuman that knew the run of +luck would be his. As he had taken losses so he greeted gains--with +absolute indifference. While Kells's hands shook the giant's were +steady and slow and sure. It must have been hateful to Kells--this +faculty of Gulden's to meet victory identically as he met defeat. +The test of a great gambler's nerve was not in sustaining loss, but +in remaining cool with victory. The fact grew manifest that Gulden +was a great gambler and Kells was not. The giant had no emotion, no +imagination. And Kells seemed all fire and whirling hope and despair +and rage. His vanity began to bleed to death. This game was the +deciding contest. The scornful and exultant looks of his men proved +how that game was going. Again and again Kells's unsteady hand +reached for one of the whisky bottles. Once with a low curse he +threw an empty bottle through the door. + +"Hey, boss, ain't it about time--" began Jesse Smith. But whatever +he had intended to say, he thought better of, withholding it. +Kells's sudden look and movement were unmistakable. + +The goddess of chance, as false as the bandit's vanity, played with +him. He brightened under a streak of winning. But just as his face +began to lose its haggard shade, to glow, the tide again turned +against him. He lost and lost, and with each bag of gold-dust went +something of his spirit. And when he was reduced to his original +share he indeed showed that yellow streak which Jesse Smith had +attributed to him. The bandit's effort to pull himself together, to +be a man before that scornful gang, was pitiful and futile. He might +have been magnificent, confronted by other issues, of peril or +circumstance, but there he was craven. He was a man who should never +have gambled. + +One after the other, in quick succession, he lost the two bags of +gold, his original share. He had lost utterly. Gulden had the great +heap of dirty little buckskin sacks, so significant of the hidden +power within. + +Joan was amazed and sick at sight of Kells then, and if it had been +possible she would have withdrawn her gaze. But she was chained +there. The catastrophe was imminent. + +Kells stared down at the gold. His jaw worked convulsively. He had +the eyes of a trapped wolf. Yet he seemed not wholly to comprehend +what had happened to him. + +Gulden rose, slow, heavy, ponderous, to tower over his heap of gold. +Then this giant, who had never shown an emotion, suddenly, terribly +blazed. + +"One more bet--a cut of the cards--my whole stake of gold!" he +boomed. + +The bandits took a stride forward as one man, then stood breathless. + +"One bet!" echoed Kells, aghast. "Against what?" + +"AGAINST THE GIRL!" + +Joan sank against the wall, a piercing torture in her breast. She +clutched the logs to keep from falling. So that was the impending +horror. She could not unrivet her eyes from the paralyzed Kells, yet +she seemed to see Jim Cleve leap straight up, and then stand, +equally motionless, with Kells. + +"One cut of the cards--my gold against the girl!" boomed the giant. + +Kells made a movement as if to go for his gun. But it failed. His +hand was a shaking leaf. + +"You always bragged on your nerve!" went on Gulden, mercilessly. +"You're the gambler of the border! ... Come on." + +Kells stood there, his doom upon him. Plain to all was his torture, +his weakness, his defeat. It seemed that with all his soul he +combated something, only to fail. + +"ONE CUT--MY GOLD AGAINST YOUR GIRL!" + +The gang burst into one concerted taunt. Like snarling, bristling +wolves they craned their necks at Kells. + +"No, damn--you! No!" cried Kells, in hoarse, broken fury. With both +hands before him he seemed to push back the sight of that gold, of +Gulden, of the malignant men, of a horrible temptation. + +"Reckon, boss, thet yellow streak is operatin'!" sang out Jesse +Smith. + +But neither gold, nor Gulden, nor men, nor taunts ruined Kells at +this perhaps most critical crisis of his life. It was the mad, +clutching, terrible opportunity presented. It was the strange and +terrible nature of the wager. What vision might have flitted through +the gambler's mind! But neither vision of loss nor gain moved him. +There, licking like a flame at his soul, consuming the good in him +at a blast, overpowering his love, was the strange and magnificent +gamble. He could not resist it. + +Speechless, with a motion of his hand, he signified his willingness. + +"Blicky, shuffle the cards," boomed Gulden. + +Blicky did so and dropped the deck with a slap in the middle of the +table. + +"Cut!" called Gulden. + +Kells's shaking hand crept toward the deck. + +Jim Cleve suddenly appeared to regain power of speech and motion. +"Don't, Kells, don't!" he cried, piercingly, as he leaped forward. + +But neither Kells nor the others heard him, or even saw his +movement. + +Kells cut the deck. He held up his card. It was the king of hearts. +What a transformation! His face might have been that of a corpse +suddenly revivified with glorious, leaping life. + +"Only an ace can beat thet!" muttered Jesse Smith into the silence. + +Gulden reached for the deck as if he knew every card left was an +ace. His cavernous eyes gloated over Kells. He cut, and before he +looked himself he let Kells see the card. + +"You can't beat my streak!" he boomed. + +Then he threw the card upon the table. It was the ace of spades. + +Kells seemed to shrivel, to totter, to sink. Jim Cleve went quickly +to him, held to him. + +"Kells, go say good--by to your girl!" boomed Gulden. "I'll want her +pretty soon. ... Come on, you Beady and Braverman. Here's your +chance to get even." + +Gulden resumed his seat, and the two bandits invited to play were +eager to comply, while the others pressed close once more. + +Jim Cleve led the dazed Kells toward the door into Joan's cabin. For +Joan just then all seemed to be dark. + +When she recovered she was lying on the bed and Jim was bending over +her. He looked frantic with grief and desperation and fear. + +"Jim! Jim!" she moaned, grasping his hands. He helped her to sit up. +Then she saw Kells standing there. He looked abject, stupid, drunk. +Yet evidently he had begun to comprehend the meaning of his deed. + +"Kells," began Cleve, in low, hoarse tones, as he stepped forward +with a gun. "I'm going to kill you--and Joan--and myself!" + +Kells stared at Cleve. "Go ahead. Kill me. And kill the girl, too. +That'll be better for her now. But why kill yourself?" + +"I love her. She's my wife!" + +The deadness about Kells suddenly changed. Joan flung herself before +him. + +"Kells--listen," she whispered in swift, broken passion. "Jim Cleve +was--my sweetheart--back in Hoadley. We quarreled. I taunted him. I +said he hadn't nerve enough--even to be bad. He left me--bitterly +enraged. Next day I trailed him. I wanted to fetch him back. ... You +remember--how you met me with Robert--how you killed Roberts? And +all the rest? ... When Jim and I met out here--I was afraid to tell +you. I tried to influence him. I succeeded--till we got to Alder +Creek. There he went wild. I married him--hoping to steady him. ... +Then the day of the lynching--we were separated from you in the +crowd. That night we hid--and next morning took the stage. Gulden +and his gang held up the stage. They thought you had put us there. +We fooled them, but we had to come on--here to Cabin Gulch--hoping +to tell--that you'd let us go. ... And now--now--" + +Joan had not strength to go on. The thought of Gulden made her +faint. + +"It's true, Kells," added Cleve, passionately, as he faced the +incredulous bandit. "I swear it. Why, you ought to see now!" + +"My God, boy, I DO see!" gasped Kells. That dark, sodden thickness +of comprehension and feeling, indicative of the hold of drink, +passed away swiftly. The shock had sobered him. + +Instantly Joan saw it--saw in him the return of the other and better +Kells, how stricken with remorse. She slipped to her knees and +clasped her arms around him. He tried to break her hold, but she +held on. + +"Get up!" he ordered, violently. "Jim, pull her away! ... Girl, +don't do that in front of me ... I've just gambled away--" + +"Her life, Kells, only that, I swear," cried Cleve. + +"Kells, listen," began Joan, pleadingly. "You will not let that-- +that CANNIBAL have me?" + +"No, by God!" replied Kells, thickly. "I was drunk--crazy. ... +Forgive me, girl! You see--how did I know--what was coming? ... Oh, +the whole thing is hellish!" + +"You loved me once," whispered Joan, softly. "Do you love me still? ... +Kells, can't you see? It's not too late to save my life--and +YOUR soul! ... Can't you see? You have been bad. But if you save me +now--from Gulden--save me for this boy I've almost ruined--you--you. ... +God will forgive you! ... Take us away--go with us--and never +come back to the border." + +"Maybe I can save you," he muttered, as if to himself. He appeared +to want to think, but to be bothered by the clinging arms around +him. Joan felt a ripple go over his body and he seemed to heighten, +and the touch of his hands thrilled. + +Then, white and appealing, Cleve added his importunity. + +"Kells, I saved your life once. You said you'd remember it some day. +Now--now! ... For God's sake don't make me shoot her!" + +Joan rose from her knees, but she still clasped Kells. She seemed to +feel the mounting of his spirit, to understand how in this moment he +was rising out of the depths. How strangely glad she was for him! + +"Joan, once you showed me what the love of a good woman really was. +I've never seen the same since then. I've grown better in one way-- +worse in all others. ... I let down. I was no man for the border. +Always that haunted me. Believe me, won't you--despite all?" + +Joan felt the yearning in him for what he dared not ask. She read +his mind. She knew he meant, somehow, to atone for his wrong. + +"I'll show you again," she whispered. "I'll tell you more. If I'd +never loved Jim Cleve--if I'd met you, I'd have loved you. ... And, +bandit or not, I'd have gone with you to the end of the world!" + +"Joan!" The name was almost a sob of joy and pain. Sight of his face +then blinded Joan with her tears. But when he caught her to him, in +a violence that was a terrible renunciation, she gave her embrace, +her arms, her lips without the vestige of a lie, with all of +womanliness and sweetness and love and passion. He let her go and +turned away, and in that instant Joan had a final divination that +this strange man could rise once to heights as supreme as the depths +of his soul were dark. She dashed away her tears and wiped the +dimness from her eyes. Hope resurged. Something strong and sweet +gave her strength. + +When Kells wheeled he was the Kells of her earlier experience--cool, +easy, deadly, with the smile almost amiable, and the strange, pale +eyes. Only the white radiance of him was different. He did not look +at her. + +"Jim, will you do exactly what I tell you?" + +"Yes, I promise," replied Jim. + +"How many guns have you?" + +"Two." + +"Give me one of them." + +Cleve held out the gun that all the while he had kept in his hand. +Kells took it and put it in his pocket. + +"Pull your other gun--be ready," said he, swiftly. "But don't you +shoot once till I go down! ... Then do your best. ... Save the last +bullet for Joan--in case--" + +"I promise," replied Cleve, steadily. + +Then Kells drew a knife from a sheath at his belt. It had a long, +bright blade. Joan had seen him use it many a time round the camp- +fire. He slipped the blade up his sleeve, retaining the haft of the +knife in his hand. He did not speak another word. Nor did he glance +at Joan again. She had felt his gaze while she had embraced him, as +she raised her lips. That look had been his last. Then he went out. +Jim knelt beside the door, peering between post and curtain. + +Joan staggered to the chink between the logs. She would see that +fight if it froze her blood--the very marrow of her bones. + +The gamblers were intent upon their game. Not a dark face looked up +as Kells sauntered toward the table. Gulden sat with his back to the +door. There was a shaft of sunlight streaming in, and Kells blocked +it, sending a shadow over the bent heads of the gamesters. How +significant that shadow--a blackness barring gold! Still no one paid +any attention to Kells. + +He stepped closer. Suddenly he leaped into swift and terrible +violence. Then with a lunge he drove the knife into Gulden's burly +neck. + +Up heaved the giant, his mighty force overturning table and benches +and men. An awful boom, strangely distorted and split, burst from +him. + +Then Kells blocked the door with a gun in each hand, but only the +one in his right hand spurted white and red. Instantly there +followed a mad scramble--hoarse yells, over which that awful roar of +Gulden's predominated--and the bang of guns. Clouds of white smoke +veiled the scene, and with every shot the veil grew denser. Red +flashes burst from the ground where men were down, and from each +side of Kells. His form seemed less instinct with force; it had +shortened; he was sagging. But at intervals the red spurt and report +of his gun showed he was fighting. Then a volley from one side made +him stagger against the door. The clear spang of a Winchester spoke +above the heavy boom of the guns. + +Joan's eyesight recovered from its blur or else the haze of smoke +drifted, for she saw better. Gulden's actions fascinated her, +horrified her. He had evidently gone crazy. He groped about the +room, through the smoke, to and fro before the fighting, yelling +bandits, grasping with huge hands for something. His sense of +direction, his equilibrium, had become affected. His awful roar +still sounded above the din, but it was weakening. His giant's +strength was weakening. His legs bent and buckled under him. All at +once he whipped out his two big guns and began to fire as he +staggered--at random. He killed the wounded Blicky. In the melee he +ran against Jesse Smith and thrust both guns at him. Jesse saw the +peril and with a shriek he fired point-blank at Gulden. Then as +Gulden pulled triggers both men fell. But Gulden rose, bloody- +browed, bawling, still a terrible engine of destruction. He seemed +to glare in one direction and shoot in another. He pointed the guns +and apparently pulled the triggers long after the shots had all been +fired. + +Kells was on his knees now with only one gun. This wavered and fell, +wavered and fell. His left arm hung broken. But his face flashed +white through the thin, drifting clouds of smoke. + +Besides Gulden the bandit Pike was the only one not down, and he was +hard hit. When he shot his last he threw the gun away, and, drawing +a knife, he made at Kells. Kells shot once more, and hit Pike, but +did not stop him. Silence, after the shots and yells, seemed weird, +and the groping giant, trying to follow Pike, resembled a huge +phantom. With one wrench he tore off a leg of the overturned table +and brandished that. He swayed now, and there was a whistle where +before there had been a roar. + +Pike fell over the body of Blicky and got up again. The bandit +leader staggered to his feet, flung the useless gun in Pike's face, +and closed with him in weak but final combat. They lurched and +careened to and fro, with the giant Gulden swaying after them. Thus +they struggled until Pike moved under Gulden's swinging club. The +impetus of the blow carried Gulden off his balance. Kells seized the +haft of the knife still protruding from the giant's neck, and he +pulled upon it with all his might. Gulden heaved up again, and the +movement enabled Kells to pull out the knife. A bursting gush of +blood, thick and heavy, went flooding before the giant as he fell. + +Kells dropped the knife, and, tottering, surveyed the scene before +him--the gasping Gulden, and all the quiet forms. Then he made a few +halting steps, and dropped near the door. + +Joan tried to rush out, but what with the unsteadiness of her limbs +and Jim holding her as he went out, too, she seemed long in getting +to Kells. + +She knelt beside him, lifted his head. His face was white--his eyes +were open. But they were only the windows of a retreating soul. He +did not know her. Consciousness was gone. Then swiftly life fled. + + + + +20 + +Cleve steadied Joan in her saddle, and stood a moment beside her, +holding her hands. The darkness seemed clearing before her eyes and +the sick pain within her seemed numbing out. + +"Brace up! Hang--to your saddle!" Jim was saying, earnestly. "Any +moment some of the other bandits might come. ... You lead the way. +I'll follow and drive the pack-horse." + +"But, Jim, I'll never be able to find the back-trail," said Joan. + +"I think you will. You'll remember every yard of the trail on which +you were brought in here. You won't realize that till you see." + +Joan started and did not look back. Cabin Gulch was like a place in +a dream. It was a relief when she rode out into the broad valley. +The grazing horses lifted their heads to whistle. Joan saw the +clumps of bushes and the flowers, the waving grass, but never as she +had seen them before. How strange that she knew exactly which way to +turn, to head, to cross! She trotted her horse so fast that Jim +called to say he could not drive a pack-animal and keep to her gait. +Every rod of the trail lessened a burden. Behind was something +hideous and incomprehensible and terrible; before beckoned something +beginning to seem bright. And it was not the ruddy, calm sunset, +flooding the hills with color. That something called from beyond the +hills. + +She led straight to a camp-site she remembered long before she came +to it; and the charred logs of the fire, the rocks, the tree under +which she had lain--all brought back the emotions she had felt +there. She grew afraid of the twilight, and when night settled down +there were phantoms stalking in the shadows. When Cleve, in his +hurried camp duties, went out of her sight, she wanted to cry out to +him, but had not the voice; and when he was close still she trembled +and was cold. He wrapped blankets round her and held her in his +arms, yet the numb chill and the dark clamp of mind remained with +her. Long she lay awake. The stars were pitiless. When she shut her +eyes the blackness seemed unendurable. She slept, to wake out of +nightmare, and she dared sleep no more. At last the day came. + +For Joan that faint trail seemed a broad road, blazoned through the +wild canons and up the rocky fastness and through the thick brakes. +She led on and on and up and down, never at fault, with familiar +landmarks near and far. Cleve hung close to her, and now his call to +her or to the pack-horse took on a keener note. Every rough and wild +mile behind them meant so much. They did not halt at the noon hour. +They did not halt at the next camp-site, still more darkly memorable +to Joan. And sunset found them miles farther on, down on the divide, +at the head of Lost Canon. + +Here Joan ate and drank, and slept the deep sleep of exhaustion. +Sunrise found them moving, and through the winding, wild canon they +made fast travel. Both time and miles passed swiftly. At noon they +reached the little open cabin, and they dismounted for a rest and a +drink at the spring. Joan did not speak a word here. That she could +look into the cabin where she had almost killed a bandit, and then, +through silent, lonely weeks, had nursed him back to life, was a +proof that the long ride and distance were helping her, sloughing +away the dark deadlock to hope and brightness. They left the place +exactly as they had found it, except that Cleve plucked the card +from the bark of the balsam-tree--Gulden's ace--of--hearts target +with its bullet--holes. + +Then they rode on, out of that canon, over the rocky ridge, down +into another canon, on and on, past an old camp-site, along a +babbling brook for miles, and so at last out into the foot--hills. + +Toward noon of the next day, when approaching a clump of low trees +in a flat valley, Joan pointed ahead. + +"Jim--it was in there--where Roberts and I camped--and--" + +"You ride around. I'll catch up with you," replied Cleve. + +She made a wide detour, to come back again to her own trail, so +different here. Presently Cleve joined her. His face was pale and +sweaty, and he looked sick. They rode on silently, and that night +they camped without water on her own trail, made months before. The +single tracks were there, sharp and clear in the earth, as if +imprinted but a day. + +Next morning Joan found that as the wild border lay behind her so +did the dark and hateful shadow of gloom. Only the pain remained, +and it had softened. She could think now. + +Jim Cleve cheered up. Perhaps it was her brightening to which he +responded. They began to talk and speech liberated feeling. Miles of +that back-trail they rode side by side, holding hands, driving the +pack-horse ahead, and beginning to talk of old associations. Again +it was sunset when they rode down the hill toward the little village +of Hoadley. Joan's heart was full, but Jim was gay. + +"Won't I have it on your old fellows!" he teased. But he was grim, +too. + +"Jim! You--won't tell--just yet!" she faltered. + +"I'll introduce you as my wife! They'll all think we eloped." + +"No. They'll say I ran after you! ... Please, Jim! Keep it secret a +little. It'll be hard for me. Aunt Jane will never understand." + +"Well, I'll keep it secret till you want to tell--for two things," +he said. + +"What?" + +"Meet me to--night, under the spruces where we had that quarrel. +Meet just like we did then, but differently. Will you?" + +"I'll be--so glad." + +"And put on your mask now! ... You know, Joan, sooner or later your +story will be on everybody's tongue. You'll be Dandy Dale as long as +you live near this border. Wear the mask, just for fun. Imagine your +Aunt Jane--and everybody!" + +"Jim! I'd forgotten how I look!" exclaimed Joan in dismay. "I didn't +bring your long coat. Oh, I can't face them in this suit!" + +"You'll have to. Besides, you look great. It's going to tickle me-- +the sensation you make. Don't you see, they'll never recognize you +till you take the mask off. ... Please, Joan." + +She yielded, and donned the black mask, not without a twinge. And +thus they rode across the log bridge over the creek into the +village. The few men and women they met stared in wonder, and, +recognizing Cleve, they grew excited. They followed, and others +joined them. + +"Joan, won't it be strange if Uncle Bill really is the Overland of +Alder Creek? We've packed out every pound of Overland's gold. Oh! I +hope--I believe he's your uncle. ... Wouldn't it be great, Joan?" + +But Joan could not answer. The word gold was a stab. Besides, she +saw Aunt Jane and two neighbors standing before a log cabin, +beginning to show signs of interest in the approaching procession. + +Joan fell back a little, trying to screen herself behind Jim. Then +Jim halted with a cheery salute. + +"For the land's sake!" ejaculated a sweet-faced, gray-haired woman. + +"If it isn't Jim Cleve!" cried another. + +Jim jumped off and hugged the first speaker. She seemed overjoyed to +see him and then overcome. Her face began to work. + +"Jim! We always hoped you'd--you'd fetch Joan back!" + +"Sure!" shouted Jim, who had no heart now for even an instant's +deception. "There she is!" + +"Who? ... What?" + +Joan slipped out of her saddle and, tearing off the mask, she leaped +forward with a little sob. + +"Auntie! Auntie! ... It's Joan--alive--well! ... Oh, so glad to be +home! ... Don't look at my clothes--look at me!" + +Aunt Jane evidently sustained a shock of recognition, joy, amaze, +consternation, and shame, of which all were subservient to the joy. +She cried over Joan and murmured over her. Then, suddenly alive to +the curious crowd, she put Joan from her. + +"You--you wild thing! You desperado! I always told Bill you'd run +wild some day! ... March in the house and get out of that indecent +rig!" + +That night under the spruces, with the starlight piercing the lacy +shadows, Joan waited for Jim Cleve. It was one of the white, silent, +mountain nights. The brook murmured over the stones and the wind +rustled the branches. + +The wonder of Joan's home-coming was in learning that Uncle Bill +Hoadley was indeed Overland, the discoverer of Alder Creek. Years +and years of profitless toil had at last been rewarded in this rich +gold strike. + +Joan hated to think of gold. She had wanted to leave the gold back +in Cabin Gulch, and she would have done so had Jim permitted it. And +to think that all that gold which was not Jim Cleve's belonged to +her uncle! She could not believe it. + +Fatal and terrible forever to Joan would be the significance of +gold. Did any woman in the world or any man know the meaning of gold +as well as she knew it? How strange and enlightening and terrible +had been her experience! She had grown now not to blame any man, +honest miner or bloody bandit. She blamed only gold. She doubted its +value. She could not see it a blessing. She absolutely knew its +driving power to change the souls of men. Could she ever forget that +vast ant-hill of toiling diggers and washers, blind and deaf and +dumb to all save gold? + +Always limned in figures of fire against the black memory would be +the forms of those wild and violent bandits! Gulden, the monster, +the gorilla, the cannibal! Horrible as was the memory of him, there +was no horror in thought of his terrible death. That seemed to be +the one memory that did not hurt. + +But Kells was indestructible--he lived in her mind. Safe out of the +border now and at home, she could look back clearly. Still all was +not clear and never would be. She saw Kells the ruthless bandit, the +organizer, the planner, and the blood-spiller. He ought have no +place in a good woman's memory. Yet he had. She never condoned one +of his deeds or even his intentions. She knew her intelligence was +not broad enough to grasp the vastness of his guilt. She believed he +must have been the worst and most terrible character on that wild +border. That border had developed him. It had produced the time and +the place and the man. And therein lay the mystery. For over against +this bandit's weakness and evil she could contrast strength and +nobility. She alone had known the real man in all the strange phases +of his nature, and the darkness of his crime faded out of her mind. +She suffered remorse--almost regret. Yet what could she have done? +There had been no help for that impossible situation as, there was +now no help for her in a right and just placing of Kells among men. +He had stolen her--wantonly murdering for the sake of lonely, +fruitless hours with her; he had loved her--and he had changed; he +had gambled away her soul and life--a last and terrible proof of the +evil power of gold; and in the end he had saved her--he had gone +from her white, radiant, cool, with strange, pale eyes and his +amiable, mocking smile, and all the ruthless force of his life had +expended itself in one last magnificent stand. If only he had known +her at the end--when she lifted his head! But no--there had been +only the fading light--the strange, weird look of a retreating soul, +already alone forever. + +A rustling of leaves, a step thrilled Joan out of her meditation. + +Suddenly she was seized from behind, and Jim Cleve showed that +though he might be a joyous and grateful lover, he certainly would +never be an actor. For if he desired to live over again that fatal +meeting and quarrel which had sent them out to the border, he failed +utterly in his part. There was possession in the gentle grasp of his +arms and bliss in the trembling of his lips. + +"Jim, you never did it that way!" laughed Joan. "If you had--do you +think I could ever have been furious?" + +Jim in turn laughed happily. "Joan, that's exactly the way I stole +upon you and mauled you!". + +"You think so! Well, I happen to remember. Now you sit here and make +believe you are Joan. And let me be Jim Cleve! ... I'll show you!" + +Joan stole away in the darkness, and noiselessly as a shadow she +stole back--to enact that violent scene as it lived in her memory. + +Jim was breathless, speechless, choked. + +"That's how you treated me," she said. + +"I--I don't believe I could have--been such a--a bear!" panted Jim. + +"But you were. And consider--I've not half your strength." + +"Then all I say is--you did right to drive me off. ... Only you +should never have trailed me out to the border." + +"Ah! ... But, Jim, in my fury I discovered my love!" + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Border Legion +by Zane Grey + |