The Border Legion

A thundering, muffled, hollow boom! The odor of burned powder stung

her nostrils. Kells's hold on her tightened convulsively, loosened

with strange, lessening power. She swayed back free of him, still

with tight-shut eyes. A horrible cry escaped him--a cry of mortal

agony. It wrenched her. And she looked to see him staggering amazed,

stricken, at bay, like a wolf caught in cruel steel jaws. His hands

came away from both sides, dripping with blood. They shook till the

crimson drops spattered on the wall, on the boughs. Then he seemed

to realize and he clutched at her with these bloody hands.

"God Almighty!" he panted. "You shot me! ... You--you girl! ... You

she-cat... You knew--all the time... You she-cat! ... Give me--that

gun!"

"Kells, get back! I'll kill you!" she cried. The big gun,

outstretched between them, began to waver.

Kells did not see the gun. In his madness he tried to move, to reach

her, but he could not; he was sinking. His legs sagged under him,

let him down to his knees, and but for the wall he would have

fallen. Then a change transformed him. The black, turgid, convulsed

face grew white and ghastly, with beads of clammy sweat and lines of

torture. His strange eyes showed swiftly passing thought--wonder,

fear, scorn--even admiration.

"Joan, you've done--for me!" he gasped. "You've broken my back! ...

It'll kill me! Oh the pain--the pain! And I can't stand pain! You--

you girl! You innocent seventeen-year-old girl! You that couldn't

hurt any creature! You so tender--so gentle! ... Bah! you fooled me.

The cunning of a woman! I ought--to know. A good woman's--more

terrible than a--bad woman. ... But I deserved this. Once I used--to

be. ... Only, the torture! ... Why didn't you--kill me outright? ...

Joan--Randle--watch me--die! Since I had--to die--by rope or bullet--

I'm glad you--you--did for me. ... Man or beast--I believe--I loved

you!"

Joan dropped the gun and sank beside him, helpless, horror-stricken,

wringing her hands. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, that he

drove her to it, that he must let her pray for him. But she could

not speak. Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth and she seemed

strangling.

Another change, slower and more subtle, passed over Kells. He did

not see Joan. He forgot her. The white shaded out of his face,

leaving a gray like that of his somber eyes. Spirit, sense, life,

were fading from him. The quivering of a racked body ceased. And all

that seemed left was a lonely soul groping on the verge of the dim

borderland between life and death. Presently his shoulders slipped

along the wall and he fell, to lie limp and motionless before Joan.

Then she fainted.