m 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