Toward sunset she grew tired of waiting, and hungry, besides, so
she went into the cabin and prepared her own meal. About dark Kells
strode in, and it took but a glance for Joan to see that matters had
not gone to his liking. The man seemed to be burning inwardly. Sight
of Joan absolutely surprised him. Evidently in the fever of this
momentous hour he had forgotten his prisoner. Then, whatever his
obsession, he looked like a man whose eyes were gladdened at sight
of her and who was sorry to behold her there. He apologized that her
supper had not been provided for her and explained that he had
forgotten. The men had been crazy--hard to manage--the issue was not
yet settled. He spoke gently. Suddenly he had that thoughtful mien
which Joan had become used to associating with weakness in him.
"I wish I hadn't dragged you here," he said, taking her hands. "It's
too late. I CAN'T lose you. ... But the--OTHER WAY--isn't too late!"
"What way? What do you mean?" asked Joan.
"Girl, will you ride off with me to-night?" he whispered, hoarsely.
"I swear I'll marry you--and become an honest man. To-morrow will be
too late! ... Will you?"
Joan shook her head. She was sorry for him. When he talked like this
he was not Kells, the bandit. She could not resist a strange
agitation at the intensity of his emotion. One moment he had
entered--a bandit leader, planning blood, murder; the next, as his
gaze found her, he seemed weakened, broken in the shaking grip of a
hopeless love for her.
"Speak, Joan!" he said, with his hands tightening and his brow
clouding.
"No, Kells," she replied.
"Why? Because I'm a red-handed bandit?"
"No. Because I--I don't love you."
"But wouldn't you rather be my wife--and have me honest--than become
a slave here, eventually abandoned to--to Gulden and his cave and
his rope?" Kells's voice rose as that other side of him gained
dominance.
"Yes, I would. ... But I KNOW you'll never harm me--or abandon me
to--to that Gulden."
"HOW do you know?" he cried, with the blood thick at his temples.
"Because you're no beast any more. ... And you--you do love me."
Kells thrust her from him so fiercely that she nearly fell.
"I'll get over it. ... Then--look out!" he said, with dark
bitterness.
With that he waved her back, apparently ordering her to her cabin,
and turned to the door, through which the deep voices of men sounded
nearer and nearer.