hat he would have his way and that the
choice was fatal for him.

Joan shook her head. In one stride Kells reached her and swung her
spinning before him. The physical violence acted strangely upon
Joan--roused her rage.

"I wouldn't marry you to save my life--even if I could!" she burst out.

At her declaration the preacher gave a start that must have been
suspicion or confirmation, or both. He bent low to peer into the face of
the dead Pearce. When he arose he was shaking his head. Evidently he had
decided that Pearce was not the man to whom he had married Joan.

"Please remove your mask," he said to Joan.

She did so, swiftly, without a tremor. The preacher peered into her
face again, as he had upon the night he had married her to Jim. He faced
Kells again.

"I am beyond your threats," he said, now with calmness. "I can't marry
you to a woman who already has a husband.... But I don't see that
husband here."

"You don't see that husband here!" echoed the bewildered Kells. He
stared with open mouth. "Say, have you got a screw loose?"

The preacher, in his swift glance, had apparently not observed the
half-hidden Cleve. Certainly it appeared now that he would have
no attention for any other than Kells. The bandit was a study. His
astonishment was terrific and held him like a chain. Suddenly he
lurched.

"What did you say?" he roared, his face flaming.

"I can't marry you to a woman who already has a husband."

Swift as light the red flashed out of Kells's face. "Did you ever see
her before?" he asked.

"Yes," replied the preacher.

"Where and when?"

"Here--at the back of this cabin--a few nights ago."

It hurt Joan to look at Kells now, yet he seemed wonderful to behold.
She felt as guilty as if she had really been false to him. Her
heart labored high in her breast. This was the climax--the moment of
catastrophe. Another word and Jim Cleve would be facing Kells. The blood
pressure in Joan's throat almost strangled her.

"At the back of this cabin!... At her window?"

"Yes."

"What were you there for?"

"In my capacity as minister. I was summoned to marry her."

"To marry her?" gasped Kells.

"Yes. She is Joan Randle, from Hoadley, Idaho. She is over eighteen. I
understood she was detained here against her will. She loved an honest
young miner of the camp. He brought me up here one night. And I married
them."

"YOU--MARRIED--THEM!"

"Yes."

Kells was slow in assimilating the truth and hi