red his covert, scarcely veiled
implication. He was studying her.

"Oh, poor uncle. He'll never, never get so much."

"Sure he will," replied Kells, bluntly.

Then he helped her out of the saddle. She was stiff and awkward, and she
let herself slide. Kells handled her gently and like a gentleman,
and for Joan the first agonizing moment of her ordeal was past. Her
intuition had guided her correctly. Kells might have been and probably
was the most depraved of outcast men; but the presence of a girl like
her, however it affected him, must also have brought up associations
of a time when by family and breeding and habit he had been infinitely
different. His action here, just like the ruffian Bill's, was
instinctive, beyond his control. Just this slight thing, this frail link
that joined Kells to his past and better life, immeasurably inspirited
Joan and outlined the difficult game she had to play.

"You're a very gallant robber," she said.

He appeared not to hear that or to note it; he was eying her up and
down; and he moved closer, perhaps to estimate her height compared to
his own.

"I didn't know you were so tall. You're above my shoulder."

"Yes, I'm very lanky."

"Lanky! Why you're not that. You've a splendid figure--tall, supple,
strong; you're like a Nez Perce girl I knew once.... You're a beautiful
thing. Didn't you know that?"

"Not particularly. My friends don't dare flatter me. I suppose I'll have
to stand it from you. But I didn't expect compliments from Jack Kells of
the Border Legion."

"Border Legion? Where'd you hear that name?"

"I didn't hear it. I made it up--thought of it myself."

"Well, you've invented something I'll use.... And what's your name--your
first name? I heard Roberts use it."

Joan felt a cold contraction of all her internal being, but outwardly
she never so much as nicked an eyelash. "My name's Joan."

"Joan!" He placed heavy, compelling hands on her shoulders and turned
her squarely toward him.

Again she felt his gaze, strangely, like the reflection of sunlight from
ice. She had to look at him. This was her supreme test. For hours
she had prepared for it, steeled herself, wrought upon all that was
sensitive in her; and now she prayed, and swiftly looked up into his
eyes. They were windows of a gray hell. And she gazed into that naked
abyss, at that dark, uncovered soul, with only the timid anxiety and
fear and the unconsciousness of an innocent, ignorant girl.

"Joa