The Border Legion

Long into the night Joan lay awake, and at times, stirring the

silence, there was wafted to her on a breeze the low, strange murmur

of the gold-camp's strife.

Joan slept late next morning, and was awakened by the unloading of

lumber. Teams were drawing planks from the sawmill. Already a

skeleton framework for Kells's cabin had been erected. Jim Cleve was

working with the others, and they were sacrificing thoroughness to

haste. Joan had to cook her own breakfast, which task was welcome,

and after it had been finished she wished for something more to

occupy her mind. But nothing offered. Finding a comfortable seat

among some rocks where she would be inconspicuous, she looked on at

the building of Kells's cabin. It seemed strange, and somehow

comforting, to watch Jim Cleve work. He had never been a great

worker. Would this experience on the border make a man of him? She

felt assured of that.

If ever a cabin sprang up like a mushroom, that bandit rendezvous

was the one. Kells worked himself, and appeared no mean hand. By

noon the roof of clapboards was on, and the siding of the same

material had been started. Evidently there was not to a be a

fireplace inside.

Then a teamster drove up with a wagon-load of purchases Kells had

ordered. Kells helped unload this and evidently was in search of

articles. Presently he found them, and then approached Joan, to

deposit before her an assortment of bundles little and big.

"There Miss Modestly," he said. "Make yourself some clothes. You can

shake Dandy Dale's outfit, except when we're on the trail. ... And,

say, if you knew what I had to pay for this stuff you'd think there

was a bigger robber in Alder Creek than Jack Kells. ... And, come to

think of it, my name's now Blight. You're my daughter, if any one

asks." Joan was so grateful to him for the goods and the permission

to get out of Dandy Dale's suit as soon as possible, that she could

only smile her thanks. Kells stared at her, then turned abruptly

away. Those little unconscious acts of hers seemed to affect him

strangely. Joan remembered that he had intended to parade her in

Dandy Dale's costume to gratify some vain abnormal side of his

bandit's proclivities. He had weakened. Here was another subtle

indication of the deterioration of the evil of him. How far would it

go? Joan thought dreamily, and with a swelling heart, of her

influence upon this hardened bandit, upon that wild boy, Jim Cleve.

All that afternoon, and part of the evening in the campfire light,

and all of the next day Joan sewed, so busy that she scarcely lifted

her eyes from her work. The following day she finished her dress,

and with no little pride, for she had both taste and skill. Of the

men, Bate Wood had been most interested in her task; and he would

let things burn on the fire to watch her.