"Belong to him! ... For God's sake! By what right?"

"By the right of possession. Might is right here on the border.
Haven't you told me that a hundred times? Don't you hold your claim-
-your gold--by the right of your strength? It's the law of this
border. To be sure Kells stole me. But just now I belong to him. And
lately I see his consideration--his kindness in the light of what he
could do if he held to that border law. ... And of all the men I've
met out here Kells is the least wild with this gold fever. He sends
his men out to do murder for gold; he'd sell his soul to gamble for
gold; but just the same, he's more of a man than---"

"Joan!" he interrupted, piercingly. "You love this bandit!"

"You're a fool!" burst out Joan.

"I guess--I--am," he replied in terrible, slow earnestness. He
raised himself and appeared to loom over her and released his hold.

But Joan fearfully retained her clasp on his arm, and when he surged
to get away she was hard put to it to hold him.

"Jim! Where are you going?"

He stood there a moment, a dark form against the night shadow, like
an outline of a man cut from black stone.

"I'll just step around--there."

"Oh, what for?" whispered Joan.