m. 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