Next day Joan watched for an opportunity to tell Jim Cleve that he might come to her little window any time after dark to talk and plan with her.  No chance presented itself.  Joan wore the dress she had made, to the evident pleasure of Bate Wood and Pearce.  They had conceived as strong an interest in her fortunes as she had in Kells’s.  Wood nodded his approval and Pearce said she was a lady once more.  Strange it was to Joan that this villain Pearce, whom she could not have dared trust, grew open in his insinuating hints of Kells’s blackguardism.  Strange because Pearce was absolutely sincere!

When Jim Cleve did see Joan in her dress the first time he appeared so glad and relieved and grateful that she feared he might betray himself, so she got out of his sight.

Not long after that Kells called her from her room.  He wore his somber and thoughtful cast of countenance.  Red Pearce and Jesse Smith were standing at attention.  Cleve was sitting on the threshold of the door and Wood leaned against the wall.

“Is there anything in the pack of stuff I bought you that you could use for a veil?” asked Kells of Joan.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Get it,” he ordered.  “And your hat, too.”

Joan went to her room and returned with the designated articles, the hat being that which she had worn when she left Hoadley.

“That’ll do.  Put it on—­over your face—­and let’s see how you look.”

Joan complied with this request, all the time wondering what Kells meant.

“I want it to disguise you, but not to hide your youth—­your good looks,” he said, and he arranged it differently about her face.  “There! ...  You’d sure make any man curious to see you now. ...  Put on the hat.”

Joan did so.  Then Kells appeared to become more forcible.

“You’re to go down into the town.  Walk slow as far as the Last Nugget.  Cross the road and come back.  Look at every man you meet or see standing by.  Don’t be in the least frightened.  Pearce and Smith will be right behind you.  They’d get to you before anything could happen. ...  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” replied Joan.

Red Pearce stirred uneasily.  “Jack, I’m thinkin’ some rough talk’ll come her way,” he said, darkly.

“Will you shut up!” replied Kells in quick passion.  He resented some implication.  “I’ve thought of that.  She won’t hear what’s said to her. ...  Here,” and he turned again to Joan, “take some cotton—­or anything—­and stuff up your ears.  Make a good job of it.”

Joan went back to her room and, looking about for something with which to execute Kells’s last order, she stripped some soft, woolly bits from a fleece-lined piece of cloth.  With these she essayed to deaden her hearing.  Then she returned.  Kells spoke to her, but, though she seemed dully to hear his voice, she could not distinguish what he said.  She shook her head.  With that Kells waved her out upon her strange errand.