ny 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