e with this first
stepping-stone toward the goal of her ambition. It was the absurd
uncalculating love of extreme youth. But it was sufficiently impetuous
to flout all the reason which her training and upbringing had been
calculated to inspire her with.

The rest followed in natural sequence, and now, after two years of
married penury, she was ready to seize any straw which chance flung in
her way as a means of salving that ambition which she now saw, with
more perfectly clear vision, was completely upon the rocks.

Now, in her mind, there were only three matters of concern. Would Dug
McFarlane come? Would they succeed in capturing this Lightfoot gang?
Would she get those ten thousand dollars, which appeared so vast a sum
to eyes only accustomed to dwelling upon cents?

Bob was silent. His whole aspect seemed to have undergone a complete
changes. He had returned to her with the story of his interview with
Dug McFarlane. He had returned to her with the assurance that he had
sold his conscience, his honor, at her bidding, and he hoped she was
satisfied. Since then he had wrapped himself in a moody silence which
had defied her utmost effort to break down.

The horses stood ready saddled in the barn. Effie was clad in her
riding suit. As yet the moon had not risen to reduce the starlit
magnificence of the velvet summer night sky. Nor was there any sound
to warn them that the hours of suspense were nearly over.

Finally, Effie could endure the silence no longer. Her dark eyes were
intently gazing down upon the bowed figure of the man. They were hard
with every bitter woman's emotion. She was full of a fierce, hot
resentment against the man who could so obstinately resist the spirit
of her longing.

"Bob," she cried at last, all restraint completely giving way, "do you
know what I could do just now more willingly than anything else in the
world? I could thrust out my foot and spurn you with it as you might
any surly cur which barred your way. I tell you I'm hot with every
feeling of contempt for your crazy attitude. You dare to set yourself
and your moral scruples between my welfare and the miserable life
you've condemned me to. Your moral scruples. Were there ever such
things? Morals? Ju Penrose's saloon day and night--for you. The
sluttish drudgery of this wretched place for me. Then you dare to
place your conscience before my--comfort."

"Do I?"

The man did not look up. His brooding eyes