Then under a giant balsam, that reached aloft to the rim-wall, Joan saw a little log cabin, open in front.  It had not been built very long; some of the log ends still showed yellow.  It did not resemble the hunters’ and prospectors’ cabins she had seen on her trips with her uncle.

In a sweeping glance Joan had taken in these features.  Kells had dismounted and approached her.  She looked frankly, but not directly, at him.

“I’m tired—­almost too tired to get off,” she said.

“Fifty miles of rock and brush, up and down!  Without a kick!” he exclaimed, admiringly.  “You’ve got sand, girl!”

“Where are we?”

“This is Lost Canon.  Only a few men know of it.  And they are—­ attached to me.  I intend to keep you here.”

“How long?” She felt the intensity of his gaze.

“Why—­as long as—­” he replied, slowly, “till I get my ransom.”

“What amount will you ask?”

“You’re worth a hundred thousand in gold right now ...  Maybe later I might let you go for less.”

Joan’s keen-wrought perception registered his covert, scarcely veiled implication.  He was studying her.

“Oh, poor uncle.  He’ll never, never get so much.”

“Sure he will,” replied Kells, bluntly.

Then he helped her out of the saddle.  She was stiff and awkward, and she let herself slide.  Kells handled her gently and like a gentleman, and for Joan the first agonizing moment of her ordeal was past.  Her intuition had guided her correctly.  Kells might have been and probably was the most depraved of outcast men; but the presence of a girl like her, however it affected him, must also have brought up associations of a time when by family and breeding and habit he had been infinitely different.  His action here, just like the ruffian Bill’s, was instinctive, beyond his control.  Just this slight thing, this frail link that joined Kells to his past and better life, immeasurably inspirited Joan and outlined the difficult game she had to play.

“You’re a very gallant robber,” she said.

He appeared not to hear that or to note it; he was eying her up and down; and he moved closer, perhaps to estimate her height compared to his own.

“I didn’t know you were so tall.  You’re above my shoulder.”

“Yes, I’m very lanky.”

“Lanky!  Why you’re not that.  You’ve a splendid figure—­tall, supple, strong; you’re like a Nez Perce girl I knew once. ...  You’re a beautiful thing.  Didn’t you know that?”

“Not particularly.  My friends don’t dare flatter me.  I suppose I’ll have to stand it from you.  But I didn’t expect compliments from Jack Kells of the Border Legion.”

“Border Legion?  Where’d you hear that name?”

“I didn’t hear it.  I made it up—­thought of it myself.”

“Well, you’ve invented something I’ll use. ...  And what’s your name—­your first name?  I heard Roberts use it.”