"I'm going to kill Kells."

Joan got both arms round his neck and with her head against him she
held him tightly, trying, praying to think how to meet this long-
dreaded moment. After all, what was the use to try? This was the
hour of Gold! Sacrifice, hope, courage, nobility, fidelity--these
had no place here now. Men were the embodiment of passion--ferocity.
They breathed only possession, and the thing in the balance was
death. Women were creatures to hunger and fight for, but womanhood
was nothing. Joan knew all this with a desperate hardening
certainty, and almost she gave in. Strangely, thought of Gulden
flashed up to make her again strong! Then she raised her face and
began the old pleading with Jim, but different this time, when it
seemed that absolutely all was at stake. She begged him, she
importuned him, to listen to reason, to be guided by her, to fight
the wildness that had obsessed him, to make sure that she would not
be left alone. All in vain! He swore he would kill Kells and any
other bandit who stood in the way of his leading her free out of
that cabin. He was wild to fight. He might never have felt fear of
these robbers. He would not listen to any possibility of defeat for
himself, or the possibility that in the event of Kells's death she
would be worse off. He laughed at her strange, morbid fears of
Gulden. He was immovable.

"Jim! ... Jim! You'll break my heart!" she whispered, wailingly.
"Oh! WHAT can I do?"

Then Joan released her clasp and gave up to utter defeat. Cleve was
silent. He did not seem to hear the shuddering little sobs that