"Jesse Smith's hoss, I swear!" shouted the tall man. "Kells, come

out here!"

Kells appeared, dark and eager, at the door, and nimbly he leaped to

the excited group. Pearce and Wood and others followed.

"What's up?" called the bandit. "Hello! Who's that riding bareback?"

"He's shore cuttin' the wind," said Wood.

"Blicky!" exclaimed the tall man. "Kells, there's news. I seen

Jesse's hoss."

Kells let out a strange, exultant cry. The excited talk among the

men gave place, to a subdued murmur, then subsided. Blicky was

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running a horse up the road, hanging low over him, like an Indian.

He clattered to the bench, scattered the men in all directions. The

fiery horse plunged and pounded. Blicky was gray of face and wild of

aspect.

"Jesse's come!" he yelled, hoarsely, at Kells. "He jest fell off his

hoss--all in! He wants you--an' all the gang! He's seen a million

dollars in gold-dust!"

Absolute silence ensued after that last swift and startling speech.

It broke to a commingling of yells and shouts. Blicky wheeled his

horse and Kells started on a run. And there was a stampede and rush

after him.

Joan grasped her opportunity. She had seen all this excitement, but

she had not lost sight of Cleve. He got up from a log and started

after the others. Joan flew to him, grasped him, startled him with

the suddenness of her onslaught. But her tongue seemed cloven to the

roof of her mouth, her lips weak and mute. Twice she strove to

speak.

"Meet me--there!--among the pines--right away!" she whispered, with

breathless earnestness. "It's life--or death--for me!"

As she released his arm he snatched at her mask. But she eluded him.

"Who ARE you?" he flashed.

Kells and his men were piling into the willows, leaping the brook,

hurrying on. They had no thought but to get to Jesse Smith to hear

of the gold strike. That news to them was as finding gold in the

earth was to honest miners.

"Come!" cried Joan. She hurried away toward the corner of the cabin,

then halted to see if he was following. He was, indeed. She ran

round behind the cabin, out on the slope, halting at the first

trees. Cleve came striding after her. She ran on, beginning to pant

and stumble. The way he strode, the white grimness of him,

frightened her. What would he, do? Again she went on, but not

running now. There were straggling pines and spruces that soon hid

the cabins. Beyond, a few rods, was a dense clump of pines, and she

made for that. As she reached it she turned fearfully. Only Cleve

was in sight. She uttered a sob of mingled relief, joy, and

thankfulness. She and Cleve had not been observed. They would be out

of sight in this little pine grove. At last! She could reveal

herself, tell him why she was there, that she loved him, that she

was as good as ever she had been. Why was she shaking like a leaf in

the wind? She saw Cleve through a blur. He was almost running now.

Involuntarily she fled into the grove. It was dark and cool; it

smelled sweetly of pine; there were narrow aisles and little sunlit

glades. She hurried on till a fallen tree blocked her passage. Here

she turned--she would wait--the tree was good to lean against. There

came Cleve, a dark, stalking shadow. She did not remember him like

that. He entered the glade.




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