“That may be. But he'd go after me first. So would Gulden. We can't ride these hills as they do. We don't know the trails—the water. We'd get lost. We'd be caught. And somehow I know that Gulden and his gang would find us first.”
“You're probably right, Joan,” replied Cleve. “But you condemn me to a living death.... To let you out of my sight with Kells or any of them! It'll be worse almost than my life was before.”
“But, Jim, I'll be safe,” she entreated. “It's the better choice of two evils. Our lives depend on reason, waiting, planning. And, Jim, I want to live for you.”
“My brave darling, to hear you say that!” he exclaimed, with deep emotion. “When I never expected to see you again!... But the past is past. I begin over from this hour. I'll be what you want—do what you want.”
Joan seemed irresistibly drawn to him again, and the supplication, as she lifted her blushing face, and the yielding, were perilously sweet.
“Jim, kiss me and hold me—the way—you did that night!”
And it was not Joan who first broke that embrace.
“Find my mask,” she said.
Cleve picked up his gun and presently the piece of black felt. He held it as if it were a deadly thing.
“Put it on me.”