ce then we've seen
him gradually lose his nerve. He organized his Legion an' makes his plan
to run this Alder Creek red. He still hangs on to you. He'd kill any
man thet batted an eye at you.... An' through all this, because he's
not Jack Kells of old, he's lost his pull with the gang. Sooner or later
he'll split."

"Have I any real friends among you?" asked Joan.

"Wal, I reckon."

"Are you my friend, Bate Wood?" she went on in sweet wistfulness.

The grizzled old bandit removed his pipe and looked at her with a glint
in his bloodshot eyes,

"I shore am. I'll sneak you off now if you'll go. I'll stick a knife in
Kells if you say so."

"Oh, no, I'm afraid to run off--and you needn't harm Kells. After all,
he's good to me."

"Good to you!... When he keeps you captive like an Indian would? When
he's given me orders to watch you--keep you locked up?"

Wood's snort of disgust and wrath was thoroughly genuine. Still Joan
knew that she dared not trust him, any more than Pearce or the others.
Their raw emotions would undergo a change if Kells's possession of her
were transferred to them. It occurred to Joan, however, that she might
use Wood's friendliness to some advantage.

"So I'm to be locked up?" she asked.

"You're supposed to be."

"Without any one to talk to?"

"Wal, you'll hev me, when you want. I reckon thet ain't much to look
forward to. But I can tell you a heap of stories. An' when Kells ain't
around, if you're careful not to get me ketched, you can do as you
want."

"Thank you, Bate. I'm going to like you," replied Joan, sincerely, and
then she went back to her room. There was sewing to do, and while she
worked she thought, so that the hours sped. When the light got so poor
that she could sew no longer she put the work aside and stood at her
little window, watching the sunset. From the front of the cabin came the
sound of subdued voices. Probably Kells and his men had returned, and
she was sure of this when she heard the ring of Bate Wood's ax.

All at once an object darker than the stones arrested Joan's gaze. There
was a man sitting on the far side of the little ravine. Instantly she
recognized Jim Cleve. He was looking at the little window--at her. Joan
believed he was there for just that purpose. Making sure that no one
else was near to see, she put out her hand and waved it. Jim gave a
guarded perceptible sign that he had observed her action, and almost
directly got up and left. Joan needed