rved
out of the night. And Blicky, nursing some deep and late-developed
scheme, perhaps in Kells's interest or his own, kept watch over Gulden
and all.

Jim cautioned Joan to rest, and importuned her and promised to watch
while she slept.

Joan saw the stars through her shut eyelids. All the night seemed to
press down and softly darken.

The sun was shining red when the cavalcade rode up Cabin Gulch. The
grazing cattle stopped to watch and the horses pranced and whistled.
There were flowers and flitting birds, and glistening dew on leaves,
and a shining swift flow of water--the brightness of morning and nature
smiled in Cabin Gulch.

Well indeed Joan remembered the trail she had ridden so often. How that
clump of willow where first she had confronted Jim thrilled her now! The
pines seemed welcoming her. The gulch had a sense of home in it for her,
yet it was fearful. How much had happened there! What might yet happen!

Then a clear, ringing call stirred her pulse. She glanced up the slope.
Tall and straight and dark, there on the bench, with hand aloft, stood
the bandit Kells.

19

The weary, dusty cavalcade halted on the level bench before the bandit's
cabin. Gulden boomed a salute to Kells. The other men shouted greeting.
In the wild exultation of triumph they still held him as chief.
But Kells was not deceived. He even passed by that heavily laden,
gold-weighted saddle. He had eyes only for Joan.

"Girl, I never was so glad to see any one!" he exclaimed in husky amaze.
"How did it happen? I never--"

Jim Cleve leaned over to interrupt Kells. "It was great, Kells--that
idea of yours putting us in the stagecoach you meant to hold up," said
Cleve, with a swift, meaning glance. "But it nearly was the end of us.
You didn't catch up. The gang didn't know we were inside, and they shot
the old stage full of holes."

"Aha! So that's it," replied Kells, slowly. "But the main point is--you
brought her through. Jim, I can't ever square that."

"Oh, maybe you can," laughed Cleve, as he dismounted.

Suddenly Kells became aware of Joan's exhaustion and distress. "Joan,
you're not hurt?" he asked in swift anxiety.

"No, only played out."

"You look it. Come." He lifted her out of the saddle and, half carrying,
half leading her, took her into the cabin, and through the big room to
her old apartment. How familiar it seemed to Joan! A ground-squirrel
frisked along a chink between the logs, chattering welcome. T