She huddled against Jim there in the shadow of the cabin wall, and
not for long did either speak. They watched and listened. The
streams of miners turned back toward the space around the scaffold
where the vigilantes stood grouped, and there rose a subdued roar of
excited voices. Many small groups of men conversed together, until
the vigilante leader brought all to attention by addressing the
populace in general. Joan could not hear what he said and had no
wish to hear.
"Joan, it all happened so quickly, didn't it?" whispered Jim,
shaking his head as if he was not convinced of reality.
"Wasn't he--terrible!" whispered Joan in reply.
"He! Who?"
"Kells." In her mind the bandit leader dominated all that wild
scene.
"Terrible, if you like. But I'd say great! ... The nerve of him! In
the face of a hundred vigilantes and thousands of miners! But he
knew what that shot would do!"
"Never! He never thought of that," declared Joan, earnestly. "I felt
him tremble. I had a glimpse of his face. ... Oh! ... First in his
mind was his downfall, and, second, the treachery of Frenchy. I
think that shot showed Kells as utterly desperate, but weak. He
couldn't have helped it--if that had been the last bullet in his
gun."
Jim Cleve looked strangely at Joan, as if her eloquence was both
persuasive and incomprehensible.
"Well, that was a lucky shot for us--and him, too."
"Do you think he got away?" she asked, eagerly.
"Sure. They all got away. Wasn't that about the maddest crowd you
ever saw?"
"No wonder. In a second every man there feared the man next to him
would shoot. That showed the power of Kells's Border Legion. If his
men had been faithful and obedient he never would have fallen."
"Joan! You speak as if you regret it!"
"Oh, I am ashamed," replied Joan. "I don't mean that. I don't know
what I do mean. But still I'm sorry for Kells. I suffered so much. ...
Those long, long hours of suspense. ... And his fortunes seemed
my fortunes--my very life--and yours, too, Jim."
"I think I understand, dear," said Jim, soberly.
"Jim, what'll we do now? Isn't it strange to feel free?"
"I feel as queer as you. Let me think," replied Jim.
They huddled there in comparative seclusion for a long time after
that. Joan tried to think of plans, but her mind seemed,
unproductive. She felt half dazed. Jim, too, appeared to be laboring
under the same kind of burden. Moreover, responsibility had been
added to his.