.
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, b