The Border Legion

"What's got into you men?" he queried.

Both of them looked around, blusteringily innocent.

"Reckon it's the same that's ailin' you," replied Bill. He showed

that among wild, unhampered men how little could inflame and change.

"Boss, it's the onaccustomed company," added Halloway, with a

conciliatory smile. "Bill sort of warms up. He jest can't help it.

An' seein' what a thunderin' crab he always is, why I'm glad an'

welcome."

Kells vouchsafed no reply to this and, turning away, continued his

tasks. Joan had a close look at his eyes and again she was startled.

They were not like eyes, but just gray spaces, opaque openings, with

nothing visible behind, yet with something terrible there.

The preparations for the meal went on, somewhat constrainedly on the

part of Bill and Halloway, and presently were ended. Then the men

attended to it with appetites born of the open and of action. Joan

sat apart from them on the bank of the brook, and after she had

appeased her own hunger she rested, leaning back in the shade of an

alderbush. A sailing shadow crossed near her, and, looking up, she

saw an eagle flying above the ramparts of the canon. Then she had a

drowsy spell, but she succumbed to it only to the extent of closing

her eyes. Time dragged on. She would rather have been in the saddle.

These men were leisurely, and Kells was provokingly slow. They had

nothing to do with time but waste it. She tried to combat the desire

for hurry, for action; she could not gain anything by worry.

Nevertheless, resignation would not come to her and her hope began

to flag. Something portended evil--something hung in the balance.

The snort and tramp of horses roused her, and upon sitting up she

saw the men about to pack and saddle again. Kells had spoken to her

only twice so far that day. She was grateful for his silence, but

could not understand it. He seemed to have a preoccupied air that

somehow did not fit the amiableness of his face. He looked gentle,

good-natured; he was soft-spoken; he gave an impression of kindness.

But Joan began to realize that he was not what he seemed. He had

something on his mind. It was not conscience, nor a burden: it might

be a projection, a plan, an absorbing scheme, a something that

gained food with thought. Joan wondered doubtfully if it were the

ransom of gold he expected to get.

Presently, when all was about in readiness for a fresh start, she

rose to her feet. Kells's bay was not tractable at the moment. Bill

held out Joan's bridle to her and their hands touched. The contact

was an accident, but it resulted in Bill's grasping back at her

hand. She jerked it away, scarcely comprehending. Then all under the

brown of his face she saw creep a dark, ruddy tide. He reached for

her then--put his hand on her breast. It was an instinctive animal

action. He meant nothing. She divined that he could not help it. She

had lived with rough men long enough to know he had no motive--no

thought at all. But at the profanation of such a touch she shrank

back, uttering a cry.