been seized by a spasm of trembling.

"Kells, I don't care two straws one way or another," replied Cleve.

The bandit appeared nonplussed. "You don't care whether you join my
Legion or whether you don't?"

"Not a damn," was the indifferent answer.

"Then do me a favor," went on Kells. "Join to please me. We'll be good
friends. You're in bad out here on the border. You might as well fall in
with us."

"I'd rather go alone."

"But you won't last."

"It's a lot I care."

The bandit studied the reckless, white face. "See here, Cleve--haven't
you got the nerve to be bad--thoroughly bad?"

Cleve gave a start as if he had been stung. Joan shut her eyes to blot
out what she saw in his face. Kells had used part of the very speech
with which she had driven Jim Cleve to his ruin. And those words
galvanized him. The fatality of all this! Joan hated herself. Those
very words of hers would drive this maddened and heartbroken boy to join
Kells's band. She knew what to expect from Jim even before she opened
her eyes; yet when she did open them it was to see him transformed and
blazing.

Then Kells either gave way to leaping passion or simulated it in the
interest of his cunning.

"Cleve, you're going down for a woman?" he queried, with that sharp,
mocking ring in his voice.

"If you don't shut up you'll get there first," replied Cleve,
menacingly.

"Bah!... Why do you want to throw a gun on me? I'm your friend: You're
sick. You're like a poisoned pup. I say if you've got nerve you won't
quit. You'll take a run for your money. You'll see life. You'll fight.
You'll win some gold. There are other women. Once I thought I would quit
for a woman. But I didn't. I never found the right one till I had gone
to hell--out here on this border.... If you've got nerve, show me. Be a
man instead of a crazy youngster. Spit out the poison.... Tell it before
us all!... Some girl drove you to us?"

"Yes--a girl!" replied Cleve, hoarsely, as if goaded.

"It's too late to go back?"

"Too late!"

"There's nothing left but wild life that makes you forget?"

"Nothing.... Only I--can't forget!" he panted.

Cleve was in a torture of memory, of despair, of weakness. Joan saw how
Kells worked upon Jim's feelings. He was only a hopeless, passionate
boy in the hands of a strong, implacable man. He would be like wax to a
sculptor's touch. Jim would bend to this bandit's will, and through his
very tenacity of love and memory be driven farthe