the
vigilantes stood grouped, and there rose a subdued roar of excited
voices. Many small groups of men conversed together, until the vigilante
leader brought all to attention by addressing the populace in general.
Joan could not hear what he said and had no wish to hear.

"Joan, it all happened so quickly, didn't it?" whispered Jim, shaking
his head as if he was not convinced of reality.

"Wasn't he--terrible!" whispered Joan in reply.

"He! Who?"

"Kells." In her mind the bandit leader dominated all that wild scene.

"Terrible, if you like. But I'd say great!... The nerve of him! In the
face of a hundred vigilantes and thousands of miners! But he knew what
that shot would do!"

"Never! He never thought of that," declared Joan, earnestly. "I felt him
tremble. I had a glimpse of his face.... Oh!... First in his mind was
his downfall, and, second, the treachery of Frenchy. I think that shot
showed Kells as utterly desperate, but weak. He couldn't have helped
it--if that had been the last bullet in his gun."

Jim Cleve looked strangely at Joan, as if her eloquence was both
persuasive and incomprehensible.

"Well, that was a lucky shot for us--and him, too."

"Do you think he got away?" she asked, eagerly.

"Sure. They all got away. Wasn't that about the maddest crowd you ever
saw?"

"No wonder. In a second every man there feared the man next to him would
shoot. That showed the power of Kells's Border Legion. If his men had
been faithful and obedient he never would have fallen."

"Joan! You speak as if you regret it!"

"Oh, I am ashamed," replied Joan. "I don't mean that. I don't know what
I do mean. But still I'm sorry for Kells. I suffered so much.... Those
long, long hours of suspense.... And his fortunes seemed my fortunes--my
very life--and yours, too, Jim."

"I think I understand, dear," said Jim, soberly.

"Jim, what'll we do now? Isn't it strange to feel free?"

"I feel as queer as you. Let me think," replied Jim.

They huddled there in comparative seclusion for a long time after that.
Joan tried to think of plans, but her mind seemed, unproductive. She
felt half dazed. Jim, too, appeared to be laboring under the same kind
of burden. Moreover, responsibility had been added to his.

The afternoon waned till the sun tipped the high range in the west. The
excitement of the mining populace gradually wore away, and toward
sunset strings of men filed up the road and across the open. The masked
vig