Joan stood up then, no longer sincere and forgetful, but the girl
with her deep and cunning game. She leaned close to him in the
twilight.

"Did you ever love any one? Did you ever have a sister--a girl like
me?"

Kells stalked away into the gloom.

Joan was left alone. She did not know whether to interpret his
abstraction, his temper, and his action as favorable or not. Still
she hoped and prayed they meant that he had some good in him. If she
could only hide her terror, her abhorrence, her knowledge of him and
his motive! She built up a bright camp-fire. There was an abundance
of wood. She dreaded the darkness and the night. Besides, the air
was growing chilly. So, arranging her saddle and blankets near the
fire, she composed herself in a comfortable seat to await Kells's
return and developments. It struck her forcibly that she had lost
some of her fear of Kells and she did not know why. She ought to
fear him more every hour--every minute. Presently she heard his step
brushing the grass and then he emerged out of the gloom. He had a
load of fire-wood on his shoulder.

"Did you get over your grief?" he asked, glancing down upon her.

"Yes," she replied.

Kells stooped for a red ember, with which he lighted his pipe, and
then he seated himself a little back from the fire. The blaze threw