Presently, Bate Wood called her in to supper. Pearce, Smith, and

Cleve were finding seats at the table, but Kells looked rather sick.

Joan observed him then more closely. His face was pale and damp,

strangely shaded as if there were something dark under the pale

skin. Joan had never seen him appear like this, and she shrank as

from another and forbidding side of the man. Pearce and Smith acted

naturally, ate with relish, and talked about the gold-diggings.

Cleve, however, was not as usual; and Joan could not quite make out

what constituted the dissimilarity. She hurried through her own

supper and back to her room.

Already it was dark outside. Joan lay down to listen and wait. It

seemed long, but probably was not long before she heard the men go

outside, and the low thump of their footsteps as they went away.

Then came the rattle and bang of Bate Wood's attack on the pans and

pots. Bate liked to cook, but he hated to clean up afterward. By and

by he settled down outside for his evening smoke and there was

absolute quiet. Then Joan rose to stand at the window. She could see

the dark mass of rock overhanging the cabin, the bluff beyond, and

the stars. For the rest all was gloom.

She did not have to wait long. A soft step, almost

indistinguishable, made her pulse beat quicker. She put her face out

of the window, and on the instant a dark form seemed to loom up to

meet her out of the shadow. She could not recognize that shape, yet

she knew it belonged to Cleve.

"Joan," he whispered.

"Jim," she replied, just as low and gladly.

He moved closer, so that the hand she had gropingly put out touched

him, then seemed naturally to slip along his shoulder, round his

neck. And his face grew clearer in the shadow. His lips met hers,

and Joan closed her eyes to that kiss. What hope, what strength for

him and for her now in that meeting of lips!

"Oh, Jim! I'm so glad--to have you near--to touch you," she

whispered.

"Do you love me still?" he whispered back, tensely.

"Still? More--more!"

"Say it, then."

"Jim, I love you!"

And their lips met again and clung, and it was he who drew back

first.

"Dearest, why didn't you let me make a break to get away with you--

before we came to this camp?"

"Oh, Jim, I told you. I was afraid. We'd have been caught. And

Gulden--"




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