The Border Legion

"That may be. But he'd go after me first. So would Gulden. We can't

ride these hills as they do. We don't know the trails--the water.

We'd get lost. We'd be caught. And somehow I know that Gulden and

his gang would find us first."

"You're probably right, Joan," replied Cleve. "But you condemn me to

a living death. ... To let you out of my sight with Kells or any of

them! It'll be worse almost than my life was before."

"But, Jim, I'll be safe," she entreated. "It's the better choice of

two evils. Our lives depend on reason, waiting, planning. And, Jim,

I want to live for you."

"My brave darling, to hear you say that!" he exclaimed, with deep

emotion. "When I never expected to see you again! ... But the past is

past. I begin over from this hour. I'll be what you want--do what

you want."

Joan seemed irresistibly drawn to him again, and the supplication,

as she lifted her blushing face, and the yielding, were perilously

sweet.

"Jim, kiss me and hold me--the way--you did that night!"

And it was not Joan who first broke that embrace.

"Find my mask," she said.

Cleve picked up his gun and presently the piece of black felt. He

held it as if it were a deadly thing.

"Put it on me."

He slipped the cord over her head and adjusted the mask so the holes

came right for her eyes.

"Joan, it hides the--the GOODNESS of you," he cried. "No one can see

your eyes now. No one will look at your face. That rig shows your--

shows you off so! It's not decent. ... But, O Lord! I'm bound to

confess how pretty, how devilish, how seductive you are! And I hate

it."

"Jim, I hate it, too. But we must stand it. Try not to shame me any

more. ... And now good-by. Keep watch for me--as I will for you--all

the time."

Joan broke from him and glided out of the grove, away under the

straggling pines, along the slope. She came upon her horse and she

led him back to the corral. Many of the horses had strayed. There

was no one at the cabin, but she saw men striding up the slope,

Kells in the lead. She had been fortunate. Her absence could hardly

have been noted. She had just strength left to get to her room,

where she fell upon the bed, weak and trembling and dizzy and

unutterably grateful at her deliverance from the hateful, unbearable

falsity of her situation.