was eating, the blanket curtain moved aside and Kells appeared. He
dropped it behind him, but did not step up into the room. He was in
his shirt-sleeves, had been clean shaven, and looked a different
man.

"How do you like your--home?" he inquired, with a hint of his former
mockery.

"I'm grateful for the privacy," she replied.

"You think you could be worse off, then?"

"I know it."

"Suppose Gulden kills me--and rules the gang--and takes you? ...
There's a story about him, the worst I've heard on this border. I'll
tell you some day when I want to scare you bad."

"Gulden!" Joan shivered as she pronounced the name. "Are you and he
enemies?"

"No man can have a friend on this border. We flock together like
buzzards. There's safety in numbers, but we fight together, like
buzzards over carrion."

"Kells, you hate this life?"

"I've always hated my life, everywhere. The only life I ever loved
was adventure. ... I'm willing to try a new one, if you'll go with
me."