CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE MEETING IN THE CAÑON.

Let us return again on the trail of our story.

As the moments passed and Bad Burke did not return to his companions in the gulch, they became uneasy at his long absence. Hardly daring to delay longer, they fled hastily from the scene, lest Kansas King should return, and, finding his lieutenant missing, accuse them of treachery.

Therefore, when Kansas King returned to the rendezvous, he found no sign of lieutenant or men. Swearing vengeance against Bad Burke, if he should ever lay his hands upon him or any of the treacherous crew who had deserted him, Kansas King rode on at a sweeping gallop, until mile after mile had been cast behind him and his stronghold was not far away.

Fearing treachery there also upon the principle that a “burned child dreads the fire,” the chief determined to make a flank movement upon his camp and approach it from the hills. He reasoned that in case suspicions of danger to himself were aroused, he could withdraw immediately and rapidly, and returning to the cabin of the hermit chief, throw himself upon his protection, telling him frankly his men had turned traitors.

With this intention he changed his course, and, turning into a narrower cañon which he knew would lead him around toward the hills overhanging his camp, he urged his horse into a gallop.

Suddenly he reined the horse back upon its haunches with terrible force, for the sound of hoofs rapidly approaching through the gorge startled him.

Drawing his revolver, King sat quietly awaiting the coming stranger, whoever it might be. An exclamation of surprise broke from his lips as a steed dashed around the bend, bearing upon his back--a woman!

Yes, a woman, or, rather a young girl, for she was none other than Ruth Ramsey, who, quickly discovering an unlooked-for obstacle in her path, attempted to draw rein. But she was too late; her steed was a willful animal, not easily checked, and before she could come to a halt the outlaw leader spurred alongside of her, and his left hand grasped her bridle rein.

“Leo Randolph! You here!” she demanded.

It was all she could say, and across her face swept a deathly pallor.

“Yes, sweet Ruth, your lover of lang syne is delighted to behold you once more,” said the chief, with irony in his voice.

“It was proven you were an outlaw,” she said, “the leader of a wild and desperate band; men called you Kansas King because you ruled the border and none dare face you. Yes, all these things were proven, and--and--I found I had loved unworthily.”

Ruth spoke half aloud, her eyes downcast, as though musing with the past.

“Ruth, all these things were told against me; what was proven was that I had been brought up by a fond mother who idolized her boy, yet upon whose life a stain rested, and hence the curse fell upon the son. That mother died, Ruth, and then came the news to her son that a brand rested upon his life.

“Was it any wonder, then, that he threw away the advantages bestowed upon him by his loving mother, and became a wild and reckless outcast? Oh, Ruth, you cannot know how I have suffered, and what a curse, a misery, my life has been. If you knew you would pity me--and pity begets love--’tis said. You did love me once, Ruth.”

The outlaw chief laid his hand softly upon the gloved hand of the girl, who, quietly withdrawing the hand, replied kindly:

“I thought I loved you once, Leo; but I did not know my heart; and yet, had your life been different, and not a blot upon the earth, we might have been more to each other than lovers; but you have not forgotten that when my father exiled you from our home, and I told you I did not love you, you basely endeavored to carry me off.”

“No, Ruth, I have not forgotten. I loved you, and that must be my excuse. I longed to have you with me, to have you my bride, and--forgive me, Ruth--I was mad enough to think that I might persuade you to become my wife.”

“My consent never could have been won by force, Leo Randolph; but, this is idle, to thus stand and talk with you. Believe me, I feel for you in the evil career you have chosen. But I must hasten, for the night is coming on and I was foolish to venture thus far from the fort.”

Ruth attempted to ride on, but the outlaw chief still kept his hand firmly upon her rein while he asked:

“How is it you are thus far from your camp, and alone?”

“I came out with my father and brother for a ride. They discovered traces of Indians near the fort, and rode on to investigate, telling me to return, for I was not half a mile away. I lost my road, and only just now discovered that my way back lay through this gulch.”

Again she urged her horse forward, yet the chief held him firmly in his strong grasp.

“Mr. Randolph, will you release my bridle rein?” said Ruth, in a firm voice.

“Miss Ramsey, I will not--hold! Hear me, and heed--you are in my power, and I am a desperate man. Go with me willingly; become my wife, and I will relinquish my evil life and live for you alone; refuse, and----”

“You plead in vain, Mr. Randolph; your evil life has already put out every spark of regard I ever felt for you. Again I ask you to release my rein.”

“And again I say I will not. More--if you will not be a willing bride, you shall be an unwilling one.”

“God have mercy upon me!” groaned poor Ruth as she reeled as if about to fall from her saddle.