d 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