James clattered into the empty sitting-room and stared about him. His dark face was flushed with excitement. The savage in him was stirred to its best mood, but it was still the savage. He grinned as he realized that the room was empty, and it was a grin of amusement. Some thought in his mind gave him satisfaction, in spite of the fact that there was no one to greet him.

The grin passed and left him serious. Even his excitement had abated. He had remembered Jessie’s scream at the scene she must have witnessed. He remembered that he had left her fainting. With another quick glance round he stood and called––

“Ho, you! Jess!”

There was no answer; and he called again, this time his handsome face darkening. He had seen her from a distance outside the house, so there was no doubt of her being about.

Still he received no answer.

An oath followed. But just as he was about to call again he heard the sound of a skirt beyond the inner door. Instantly he checked his impulse, and where before his swift-rising anger had shone in his eyes a smile now greeted Jessie as she opened the door and entered the room.

For a moment no verbal greeting passed between them. The man was taking in every detail of her face and figure, much as a connoisseur may note the points of some precious purchase he is about to make, or a glutton may contemplate a favorite dish. He saw nothing in her face of the effects of the strain through which she had passed. To him her eyes were the same wonderful, passionate depths that had first drawn his reckless manhood to flout every risk in hunting his quarry down. Her lips were the same rich, moist, enticing lips he had pressed to his in those past moments of passion. The rounded body was unchanged. Yes, she was very desirable.

But he was too sure of his ground to notice that there was no responsive admiration in the woman’s eyes. And perhaps it was as well. She was looking at him with eyes wide open to what he really was, and all the revolting of her nature was uppermost. She loathed him as she might some venomous reptile. She loathed him and feared him. His body might have been the body of an Apollo, his face the most perfect of God’s creations. She knew him now for the cold-blooded murderer he was, and so she loathed and feared him.

There were stains upon his cotton shirt-sleeves, upon the bosom of it showing between the fronts of his unbuttoned waistcoat. There were stains upon his white moleskin trousers.

“Blood,” she said, pointing. And something of her feelings must have been plain to any but his infatuated ears.

He laughed. It was a cruel laugh.

“Sure,” he cried. “It was a great scrap. We took nigh a hundred head of Sid Morton’s cattle and burnt him out.”

“And the blood?”

“Guess it must be his, or––Luke Tedby’s.” His face suddenly darkened. “That mutton-headed gambler over on Suffering Creek did him up. I had to carry him to shelter––after he got away.”

But Jessie paid little attention. She was following up her own thought.

“It isn’t––Conroy’s?”

James’ eyes grew cold.

“That seems to worry you some,” he cried coldly. Then he put the thing aside with a laugh. “You’ll get used to that sort of talk after you’ve been here awhile. Say, Jes––”

“I can never get used to––murder.”

The woman’s eyes were alight with a somber fire. She had no idea of whither her words and feelings were carrying her. All her best feelings were up in arms, and she, too, was touched now with the reckless spirit which drove these people. There was no hope for her future. There was no hope whithersoever she looked. And now that she had seen her children were still safe from the life she had flung herself into, she cared very little what happened to her.

But the cruel despot, to whom life and death were of no account whatsoever, was not likely to deal tenderly long with the woman he desired did she prove anything but amenable. Now her words stung him as they were meant to sting, and his mouth hardened.

“You’re talking foolish,” he cried in that coldly metallic way she had heard him use before. “Conroy got all he needed. Maybe he deserved more. Anyhow, ther’s only one man running this lay-out, and I’m surely that man. Say––” again he changed. This time it was a change back to something of the lover she knew, and at once he became even more hateful to her––“things missed fire at––the Creek. I didn’t get hands on your kids. I––”

“I’m glad.” Jessie could have shouted aloud her joy, but the man’s look of surprise brought caution, and she qualified her words. “No; we’d best leave them, after all,” she said. “You see, these men––”

She looked fearlessly into his face. She was acting as only a woman can act when the object of her affections is threatened.

And her lover warmed all unsuspiciously. It would have been better for her had she only realized her power over him. But she was not clever. She was not even brave.

James nodded.

“Sure,” he said; and with that monosyllable dismissed the subject from his mind for matters that gave him savage delight. “Say, we’ve had a good round-up,” he went on––“a dandy haul. But we’re going to do better––Oh yes, much better.” Then his smile died out. He had almost forgotten the woman in the contemplation of what he had in his mind. This man was wedded to his villainies. They came before all else. Jessie was his; he was sure of her. She was his possession, and he took her for granted now. The excitement of his trade had once again become paramount.

“Guess Sufferin’ Creek has gone plumb crazy,” he went on delightedly. “I’ve had boys around to keep me posted. They been spotting things. Old Minky has been sittin’ so tight I guessed I’d have to raid the store for his gold; an’ now they’ve opened out. That buzzy-headed old fool’s goin’ to send out a stage loaded down with dust. It starts Wednesday morning, an’ he guesses it’s to win through to Spawn City. Gee! An’ they’re shoutin’ about it. Say, Jess, they say it’s to carry sixty thousand dollars. Well, it won’t carry it far. That’s why I’m back here now. That’s why I quit worrying with your kids when Wild Bill did up Luke. We hustled home to change our plugs, an’ are hittin’ the trail again right away. Sixty thousand dollars! Gee! what a haul! Say, when I’ve taken that”––he moved a step nearer and dropped his voice––“we’re goin’ to clear out of this––you an’ me. Those guys out there ain’t never going to touch a cent. You leave that to me. We’ll hit for New Mexico, and to hell with the north country. Say, Jess, ain’t that fine? Fine?” he went on, with a laugh. “It’s fine as you are.”

She had no answer for him. And he went on quite heedlessly, lost in admiration of his own scheme, and joy at the prospect.

“We’ll settle down to an elegant little ranch, most respectable like. You can go to church. Ha, ha! Yes, you can go to church all reg’lar. You can make clothes fer the poor, an’ go to sociables an’ things. An’ meanwhiles I can slip across the border and gather up a few things––just to keep my hand in––”

“What time are we gettin’ out?”

James swung round with the alertness of a panther. One of the men was standing in the doorway, a burly ruffian whose face was turned to his leader, but whose cruel eyes were rudely fixed on the woman.

“In ha’f-an-hour,” cried James, with a swift return to his harsh command. “Tell the boys to vittle for three days an’ roll a blanket. We’ll need ’em fer sleep. An’, say,” he cried, with sudden threat, “don’t you git around here again till I call you. Get me?”

There was no mistaking his anger at the interruption. There was no mistaking his meaning. The man slunk away. But as James turned back to the woman his previous lightness had gone, and his ill-humor found savage expression.

“There’s someone else needing a lesson besides Conroy,” he snarled.

Jessie shivered.

“He didn’t mean harm,” she protested weakly.

“Harm? Harm? He was staring at you. You ain’t fer sech scum as him to stare at. I’ll have to teach him.”

The man was lashing himself to that merciless fury Jessie had once before witnessed, and now she foolishly strove to appease him. She laughed. It was a forced laugh, but it served her purpose, for the man’s brow cleared instantly, and his thoughts diverted to a full realization of her presence, and all she meant to him.

“You can laugh,” he said, his eyes darkening with sudden lustful passion. “But I can’t have folks––starin’ at you. Say, Jess, you don’t know, you can’t think, how I feel about you. You’re jest mine––mine.” His teeth clipped together with the force of his emotion. The brute in him urged him as madly in his desire as it did in his harsher tempers. “I just don’t care for nothing else but you. An’––I got you now. Here, you haven’t kissed me since I came back. I’d forgot, thinking of that sixty thousand of gold-dust. I’m off again in ha’f-an-hour––an’ I won’t be back for three days. Here––”

His arms were held out and he drew nearer. But now the woman drew back in unmistakable horror.

“Say,” he cried in a voice still passionate, yet half angry, “you don’t need to get away. Ther’s a wall back of you.” Then, as she still shrank back, and he saw the obvious terror in her eyes, his swift-changing mood lost its warmth of passion and left it only angry. “Ther’s three other walls an’ a door to this room, an’ I can easy shut the door.”

He reached out and caught her by one arm. He swung her to him as though she were a child. There was no escape. She struggled to free herself, but her strength was as the strength of a babe to his, and in a moment she was caught in his arms and hugged to his breast. She writhed to free herself, but her efforts made no impression. And, having possession of her, the man laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh. He looked down at her. Her head was thrown back to avoid him. His hot eyes grinned tantalizingly into her face.

“It’s no use,” he said. “You got to kiss me. You’re mine. No, no, don’t you bother to kick any. You can’t get away. Now, Jess, kiss me. Kiss me good––good an’ plenty.” His arms crushed her closer. “What, you won’t? You won’t kiss me? Ha, ha! Maybe that’s why you ran back into the house when I come along. Maybe that’s why you wouldn’t answer when I called. What’s come to you?”

He held her, waiting for a reply. But the woman was beyond speech in her horror and rage. She was no longer terrified. She was beside herself with fury and revolting. She hated the crushing arms about her––the arms of a murderer. That one word stood out in her mind, maddening her. She would not kiss him. She could not. She gasped and struggled. She wanted to shriek for help, but that, she knew, was useless.

“Let me go!” she cried, her voice hoarse with a fury equal to anything he was capable of.

But she only held her the tighter; he only grinned the more. He, too, was furious. He, too, meant to have his way. He was determined she should submit.

Submission, however, was the farthest from her thoughts. He bent his head forward. It came nearer to her up-thrown chin.

“Let me go! Let me go, you––you––murderer!”

It was out. She had no longer any power of restraint. And as the word hissed upon the air the man’s whole body seemed to suddenly stiffen. His arms tightened, and she felt her ribs bend under their terrific pressure.

“Murderer, eh?” she heard him cry, with an oath. “Murderer, eh? Now you shall kiss me. Kiss me, you wild-cat––kiss me!”

As he spoke one hand was lifted to the back of her head. He pressed it forward, and she was forced slowly, slowly, fighting every inch of the way to keep her face out of reach of his lips. His face drew nearer hers. She felt his hot breath upon her cheeks. She shut her eyes to keep the sight of his hated, terrifying eyes out, but ever his lips came nearer.

“What’s come over you, you little fool?” he cried fiercely. “What is it? Now, by hell! whatever it is, you shall––you shall kiss me.”

With a sudden exertion of his great strength he crushed her face to his, and the next instant flung her from him with a fierce cry of pain and rage.

“You––!” he shouted, as she fell in a heap against the wall.

The blood was streaming from his cheek where her strong teeth had bitten deep into the flesh. His hand went up to the mauled flesh, and murder glared out of his eyes as he contemplated her huddled figure lying motionless where he had flung her. And for one second it looked as though he intended to complete the work he had begun, and kill her where she lay, in the same manner in which he had treated the luckless Conroy.

He stared insanely at her for some moments. Then a change came over him, and he turned to the door.

“When I come back, my girl! When I come back!” he muttered threateningly.

At the door he paused and looked back. But his look was mercifully hidden from his victim by unconsciousness.