"All right. But I'm not, and I won't be sorry."

She wondered whether he had fallen under the influence of drink. Jim

had never cared for liquor, which virtue was about the only one he

possessed. Remembering his kisses, she knew he had not been

drinking. There was a strangeness about him, though, that she could

not fathom. Had he guessed his kisses would have that power? If he

dared again--! She trembled, and it was not only rage. But she would

teach him a lesson.

"Joan, I kissed you because I can't be a hangdog any longer," he

said. "I love you and I'm no good without you. You must care a

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little for me. Let's marry ... I'll--"

"Never!" she replied, like flint. "You're no good at all."

"But I am," he protested, with passion. "I used to do things. But

since--since I've met you I've lost my nerve. I'm crazy for you. You

let the other men run after you. Some of them aren't fit to--to--Oh,

I'm sick all the time! Now it's longing and then it's jealousy. Give

me a chance, Joan."

"Why?" she queried, coldly. "Why should I? You're shiftless. You

won't work. When you do find a little gold you squander it. You have

nothing but a gun. You can't do anything but shoot."

"Maybe that'll come in handy," he said, lightly.

"Jim Cleve, you haven't it in you even to be BAD," she went on,

stingingly.

At that he made a violent gesture. Then he loomed over her. "Joan

Handle, do you mean that?" he asked.

"I surely do," she responded. At last she had struck fire from him.

The fact was interesting. It lessened her anger.

"Then I'm so low, so worthless, so spineless that I can't even be

bad?"

"Yes, you are."

"That's what you think of me--after I've ruined myself for love of

you?"

She laughed tauntingly. How strange and hot a glee she felt in

hurting him!

"By God, I'll show you!" he cried, hoarsely.

"What will you do, Jim?" she asked, mockingly.

"I'll shake this camp. I'll rustle for the border. I'll get in with

Kells and Gulden ... You'll hear of me, Joan Randle!"

These were names of strange, unknown, and wild men of a growing and

terrible legion on the border. Out there, somewhere, lived

desperados, robbers, road-agents, murderers. More and more rumor had

brought tidings of them into the once quiet village. Joan felt a

slight cold sinking sensation at her heart. But this was only a

magnificent threat of Jim's. He could not do such a thing. She would

never let him, even if he could. But after the incomprehensible

manner of woman, she did not tell him that.




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