The Border Legion

"Bah! You haven't the nerve!" she retorted, with another mocking

laugh.

Haggard and fierce, he glared down at her a moment, and then without

another word he strode away. Joan was amazed, and a little sick, a

little uncertain: still she did not call him back.

And now at noon of the next day she had tracked him miles toward the

mountains. It was a broad trail he had taken, one used by

prospectors and hunters. There was no danger of her getting lost.

What risk she ran was of meeting some of these border ruffians that

had of late been frequent visitors in the village. Presently she

mounted again and rode down the ridge. She would go a mile or so

farther.

Behind every rock and cedar she expected to find Jim. Surely he had

only threatened her. But she had taunted him in a way no man could

stand, and if there were any strength of character in him he would

show it now. Her remorse and dread increased. After all, he was only

a boy--only a couple of years older than she was. Under stress of

feeling he might go to any extreme. Had she misjudged him? If she

had not, she had at least been brutal. But he had dared to kiss her!

Every time she thought of that a tingling, a confusion, a hot shame

went over her. And at length Joan marveled to find that out of the

affront to her pride, and the quarrel, and the fact of his going and

of her following, and especially out of this increasing remorseful

dread, there had flourished up a strange and reluctant respect for

Jim Cleve.

She climbed another ridge and halted again. This time she saw a

horse and rider down in the green. Her heart leaped. It must be Jim

returning. After all, then, he had only threatened. She felt

relieved and glad, yet vaguely sorry. She had been right in her

conviction.

She had not watched long, however, before she saw that this was not

the horse Jim usually rode. She took the precaution then to hide

behind some bushes, and watched from there. When the horseman

approached closer she discerned that instead of Jim it was Harvey

Roberts, a man of the village and a good friend of her uncle's.

Therefore she rode out of her covert and hailed him. It was a

significant thing that at the sound of her voice Roberts started

suddenly and reached for his gun. Then he recognized her.

"Hello, Joan!" he exclaimed, turning her way. "Reckon you give me a

scare. You ain't alone way out here?"