The Border Legion

"Does Kells see you often--these days?" asked Jim, suddenly.

Joan had dreaded this question, which she had known would inevitably

come. She wanted to lie; she knew she ought to lie; but it was

impossible.

"Every day," she whispered. "Please--Jim--never mind that. Kells is

good--he's all right to me. ... And you and I have so little time

together."

"Good!" exclaimed Cleve. Joan felt the leap of his body under her

touch. "Why, if I'd tell you what he sends that gang to do--you'd--

you'd kill him in his sleep."

"Tell me," replied Joan. She had a morbid, irresistible desire to

learn.

"No. ... And WHAT does Kells do--when he sees you every day?"

"He talks."

"What about?"

"Oh, everything except about what holds him here. He talks to me to

forget himself."

"Does he make love to you?"

Joan maintained silence. What would she do with this changed and

hopeless Jim Cleve?

"Tell me!" Jim's hands gripped her with a force that made her wince.

And now she grew as afraid of him as she had been for him. But she

had spirit enough to grow angry, also.

"Certainly he does."

Jim Cleve echoed her first word, and then through grinding teeth he

cursed. "I'm going to--stop it!" he panted, and his eyes looked big

and dark and wild in the starlight.

"You can't. I belong to Kells. You at least ought to have sense

enough to see that."

"Belong to him! ... For God's sake! By what right?"

"By the right of possession. Might is right here on the border.

Haven't you told me that a hundred times? Don't you hold your claim-

-your gold--by the right of your strength? It's the law of this

border. To be sure Kells stole me. But just now I belong to him. And

lately I see his consideration--his kindness in the light of what he

could do if he held to that border law. ... And of all the men I've

met out here Kells is the least wild with this gold fever. He sends

his men out to do murder for gold; he'd sell his soul to gamble for

gold; but just the same, he's more of a man than---"

"Joan!" he interrupted, piercingly. "You love this bandit!"

"You're a fool!" burst out Joan.

"I guess--I--am," he replied in terrible, slow earnestness. He

raised himself and appeared to loom over her and released his hold.