“Jim! I'd forgotten how I look!” exclaimed Joan in dismay. “I didn't bring your long coat. Oh, I can't face them in this suit!”
“You'll have to. Besides, you look great. It's going to tickle me—the sensation you make. Don't you see, they'll never recognize you till you take the mask off.... Please, Joan.”
She yielded, and donned the black mask, not without a twinge. And thus they rode across the log bridge over the creek into the village. The few men and women they met stared in wonder, and, recognizing Cleve, they grew excited. They followed, and others joined them.
“Joan, won't it be strange if Uncle Bill really is the Overland of Alder Creek? We've packed out every pound of Overland's gold. Oh! I hope—I believe he's your uncle.... Wouldn't it be great, Joan?”
But Joan could not answer. The word gold was a stab. Besides, she saw Aunt Jane and two neighbors standing before a log cabin, beginning to show signs of interest in the approaching procession.
Joan fell back a little, trying to screen herself behind Jim. Then Jim halted with a cheery salute.
“For the land's sake!” ejaculated a sweet-faced, gray-haired woman.
“If it isn't Jim Cleve!” cried another.
Jim jumped off and hugged the first speaker. She seemed overjoyed to see him and then overcome. Her face began to work.
“Jim! We always hoped you'd—you'd fetch Joan back!”