as she stepped and gropped through the darkness to the door, and as
she drew aside the blanket her hand shook.

The large room was lighted by a fire and half a dozen lanterns.
Through a faint tinge of blue smoke Joan saw men standing and
sitting and lounging around Kells, who had a seat where the light
fell full upon him. Evidently a lull had intervened in the talk. The
dark faces Joan could see were all turned toward the door
expectantly.

"Bring him in, Bate, and let's look him over," said Kells.

Then Bate Wood appeared, elbowing his way in, and he had his hand on
the arm of a tall, lithe fellow. When they got into the light Joan
quivered as if she had been stabbed. That stranger with Wood was Jim
Cleve--Jim Cleve in frame and feature, yet not the same she knew.

"Cleve, glad to meet you," greeted Kells, extending his hand.

"Thanks. Same to you," replied Cleve, and he met the proffered hand.
His voice was cold and colorless, unfamiliar to Joan. Was this man
really Jim Cleve?

The meeting of Kells and Cleve was significant because of Kells's
interest and the silent attention of the men of his clan. It did not
seem to mean anything to the white-faced, tragic-eyed Cleve. Joan
gazed at him with utter amazement. She remembered a heavily built,
florid Jim Cleve, an overgrown boy with a good-natured, lazy smile
on his full face and sleepy eyes. She all but failed to recognize
him in the man who stood there now, lithe and powerful, with muscles