The Border Legion

Her experience at the camp-fire meal inclined her to the belief

that, if there were such a possibility as her being safe at all, it

would be owing to an unconscious and friendly attitude toward the

companions she had been forced to accept. Those men were pleased,

stirred at being in her vicinity. Joan came to a melancholy and

fearful cognizance of her attraction. While at home she seldom had

borne upon her a reality--that she was a woman. Her place, her

person were merely natural. Here it was all different. To these wild

men, developed by loneliness, fierce-blooded, with pulses like

whips, a woman was something that thrilled, charmed, soothed, that

incited a strange, insatiable, inexplicable hunger for the very

sight of her. They did not realize it, but Joan did.

Presently Joan finished her supper and said: "I'll go hobble my

horse. He strays sometimes."

"Shore I'll go, miss," said Bate Wood. He had never called her Mrs.

Kells, but Joan believed he had not thought of the significance.

Hardened old ruffian that he was. Joan regarded him as the best of a

bad lot. He had lived long, and some of his life had not been bad.

"Let me go," added Pearce.

"No, thanks. I'll go myself," she replied.

She took the rope hobble off her saddle and boldly swung down the

trail. Suddenly she heard two or more of the men speak at once, and

then, low and clear: "Gulden, where'n hell are you goin'?" This was

Red Pearce's voice.

Joan glanced back. Gulden had started down the trail after her. Her

heart quaked, her knees shook, and she was ready to run back. Gulden

halted, then turned away, growling. He acted as if caught in

something surprising to himself.

"We're on to you, Gulden," continued Pearce, deliberately. "Be

careful or we'll put Kells on."

A booming, angry curse was the response. The men grouped closer and

a loud altercation followed. Joan almost ran down the trail and

heard no more. If any one of them had started her way now she would

have plunged into the thickets like a frightened deer. Evidently,

however, they meant to let her alone. Joan found her horse, and

before hobbling him she was assailed by a temptation to mount him

and ride away. This she did not want to do and would not do under

any circumstances; still, she could not prevent the natural

instinctive impulse of a woman.

She crossed to the other side of the brook and returned toward camp

under the spruce and balsam trees, She did not hurry. It was good to

be alone, out of sight of those violent men, away from that constant

wearing physical proof of catastrophe. Nevertheless, she did not

feel free or safe for a moment; she peered fearfully into the

shadows of the rocks and trees; and presently it was a relief to get

back to the side of the sleeping Kells. He lay in a deep slumber of

exhaustion. She arranged her own saddle and blankets near him, and

prepared to meet the night as best she could. Instinctively she took

a position where in one swift snatch she could get possession of

Kells's gun.