“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?”