The Border Legion

Then at a soft footfall, a rustle, and a moving shadow Joan's

mingled emotions merged into a poignant sense of the pain and

suspense and tenderness of the actual moment.

"Joan--Joan," came the soft whisper.

She answered, and there was a catch in her breath.

The moving shadow split into two shadows that stole closer, loomed

before her. She could not tell which belonged to Jim till he touched

her. His touch was potent. It seemed to electrify her.

"Dearest, we're here--this is the parson," said Jim, like a happy

boy. "I--"

"Ssssh!" whispered Joan. "Not so loud. ... Listen!"

Kells was holding a rendezvous with members of his Legion. Joan even

recognized his hard and somber tone, and the sharp voice of Red

Pearce, and the drawl of Handy Oliver.

"All right. I'll be quiet," responded Cleve, cautiously. "Joan,

you're to answer a few questions."

Then a soft hand touched Joan, and a voice differently keyed from

any she had heard on the border addressed her.

"What is your name?" asked the preacher.

Joan told him.

"Can you tell anything about yourself? This young man is--is almost

violent. I'm not sure. Still I want to--"

"I can't tell much," replied Joan, hurriedly. "I'm an honest girl.

I'm free to--to marry him. I--I love him! ... Oh, I want to help him.

We--we are in trouble here. I daren't say how."

"Are you over eighteen?" "Yes, sir."

"Do your parents object to this young man?"

"I have no parents. And my uncle, with whom I lived before I was

brought to this awful place, he loves Jim. He always wanted me to

marry him."

"Take his hand, then."

Joan felt the strong clasp of Jim's fingers, and that was all which

seemed real at the moment. It seemed so dark and shadowy round these

two black forms in front of her window. She heard a mournful wail of

a lone wolf and it intensified the weird dream that bound her. She

heard her shaking, whispered voice repeating the preacher's words.

She caught a phrase of a low-murmured prayer. Then one dark form

moved silently away. She was alone with Jim.

"Dearest Joan!" he whispered. "It's over! It's done! ... Kiss me!"

She lifted her lips and Jim seemed to kiss her more sweetly, with

less violence.

"Oh, Joan, that you'd really have me! I can't believe it. ... Your

HUSBAND."

That word dispelled the dream and the pain which had held Joan,

leaving only the tenderness, magnified now a hundredfold.