"Is that so black a thing?" queried Kells, evidently nettled, and he
glared at her.
"I--I don't know," faltered Joan. "Is this--this boy a criminal
yet?"
"No. He's only a fine, decent young chap gone wild--gone bad for
some girl. I told you that. You don't seem to grasp the point. If I
can control him he'll be of value to me--he'll be a bold and clever
and dangerous man--he'll last out here. If I can't win him, why, he
won't last a week longer. He'll be shot or knifed in a brawl.
Without my control Cleve'll go straight to the hell he's headed
for."
Joan pushed back her plate and, looking up, steadily eyed the
bandit.
"Kells, I'd rather he ended his--his career quick--and went to--to--
than live to be a bandit and murderer at your command."
Kells laughed mockingly, yet the savage action with which he threw
his cup against the wall attested to the fact that Joan had strange
power to hurt him.
"That's your sympathy, because I told you some girl drove him out
here," said the bandit. "He's done for. You'll know that the moment
you see him. I really think he or any man out here would be the
better for my interest. Now, I want to know if you'll stand by me--
put in a word to help influence this wild boy."
"I'll--I'll have to see him first," replied Joan.
"Well, you take it sort of hard," growled Kells. Then presently he
brightened. "I seem always to forget that you're only a kid. Listen!
Now you do as you like. But I want to warn you that you've got to
get back the same kind of nerve"--here he lowered his voice and
glanced at Bate Wood--"that you showed when you shot me. You're
going to see some sights. ... A great gold strike! Men grown gold-
mad! Woman of no more account than a puff of cottonseed! ... Hunger,
toil, pain, disease, starvation, robbery, blood, murder, hanging,
death--all nothing, nothing! There will be only gold. Sleepless
nights--days of hell--rush and rush--all strangers with greedy eyes!
The things that made life will be forgotten and life itself will be
cheap. There will be only that yellow stuff--gold--over which men go
mad and women sell their souls!"
After breakfast Kells had Joan's horse brought out of the corral and
saddled.
"You must ride some every day. You must keep in condition," he said.
"Pretty soon we may have a chase, and I don't want it to tear you to
pieces."