But had that been the spring of his motive?  She doubted it—­she doubted all about him, save that subtle essence of violence, of ruthless force and intensity, of terrible capacity, which hung round him.

A halloo caused her to stop and turn.  Two pack-horses were jogging up the trail.  Kells was driving them and leading her pony.  Nothing could be seen of the other men.  Kells rapidly overhauled her, and she had to get out of the trail to let the pack-animals pass.  He threw her bridle to her.

“Get up,” he said.

She complied.  And then she bravely faced him.  “Where are—­the other men?”

“We parted company,” he replied, curtly.

“Why?” she persisted.

“Well, if you’re anxious to know, it was because you were winning their—­regard—­too much to suit me.”

“Winning their regard!” Joan exclaimed, blankly.

Here those gray, piercing eyes went through her, then swiftly shifted.  She was quick to divine from that the inference in his words—­he suspected her of flirting with those ruffians, perhaps to escape him through them.  That had only been his suspicion—­ groundless after his swift glance at her.  Perhaps unconsciousness of his meaning, a simulated innocence, and ignorance might serve her with this strange man.  She resolved to try it, to use all her woman’s intuition and wit and cunning.  Here was an educated man who was a criminal—­an outcast.  Deep within him might be memories of a different life.  They might be stirred.  Joan decided in that swift instant that, if she could understand him, learn his real intentions toward her, she could cope with him.

“Bill and his pard were thinking too much of—­of the ransom I’m after,” went on Kells, with a short laugh.  “Come on now.  Ride close to me.”

Joan turned into the trail with his laugh ringing in her ears.  Did she only imagine a mockery in it?  Was there any reason to believe a word this man said?  She appeared as helpless to see through him as she was in her predicament.

They had entered a canon, such as was typical of that mountain range, and the winding trail which ran beneath the yellow walls was one unused to travel.  Joan could not make out any old tracks, except those of deer and cougar.  The crashing of wild animals into the chaparral, and the scarcely frightened flight of rabbits and grouse attested to the wildness of the place.  They passed an old tumbledown log cabin, once used, no doubt, by prospectors and hunters.  Here the trail ended.  Yet Kells kept on up the canon.  And for all Joan could tell the walls grew only the higher and the timber heavier and the space wilder.