its head and over
a pass into another canon, and never did she let it be possible for
Kells to see her eyes until she knew beyond peradventure of a doubt that
they hid the strength and spirit and secret of her soul.

The time came when traveling was so steep and rough that she must think
first of her horse and her own safety. Kells led up over a rock-jumbled
spur of range, where she had sometimes to follow on foot. It seemed
miles across that wilderness of stone. Foxes and wolves trotted over
open places, watching stealthily. All around dark mountain peaks stood
up. The afternoon was far advanced when Kells started to descend again,
and he rode a zigzag course on weathered slopes and over brushy benches,
down and down into the canons again.

A lonely peak was visible, sunset-flushed against the blue, from the
point where Kells finally halted. That ended the longest ride Joan had
ever made in one day. For miles and miles they had climbed and descended
and wound into the mountains. Joan had scarcely any idea of direction.
She was completely turned around and lost. This spot was the wildest and
most beautiful she had ever seen. A canon headed here. It was narrow,
low-walled, and luxuriant with grass and wild roses and willow and
spruce and balsam. There were deer standing with long ears erect,
motionless, curious, tame as cattle. There were moving streaks through
the long grass, showing the course of smaller animals slipping away.

Then under a giant balsam, that reached aloft to the rim-wall, Joan saw
a little log cabin, open in front. It had not been built very long; some
of the log ends still showed yellow. It did not resemble the hunters'
and prospectors' cabins she had seen on her trips with her uncle.

In a sweeping glance Joan had taken in these features. Kells had
dismounted and approached her. She looked frankly, but not directly, at
him.

"I'm tired--almost too tired to get off," she said.

"Fifty miles of rock and brush, up and down! Without a kick!" he
exclaimed, admiringly. "You've got sand, girl!"

"Where are we?"

"This is Lost Canon. Only a few men know of it. And they are--attached
to me. I intend to keep you here."

"How long?" She felt the intensity of his gaze.

"Why--as long as--" he replied, slowly, "till I get my ransom."

"What amount will you ask?"

"You're worth a hundred thousand in gold right now... Maybe later I
might let you go for less."

Joan's keen-wrought perception registe