n.

"I know, Larry. Don't misunderstand me. It would have to be along the
way of her happiness or not at all. I feel almost a paternal interest in
Boone Wellver. But I've always believed that they'd grow apart with the
years and she and Morgan would grow together. Anyhow it's my dream, and
for a time yet I sha'n't let go my hold upon it." His tone changed and
again he spoke as a lawyer weighing the inelastic force of facts. "But
time is vital to you. These options must be taken up. There must be no
suspicious delay. I'll catch the next train back to town and arrange to
get money in your hands at once."

CHAPTER XXXIV

Boone had written to Anne after the election in a vein of satisfaction
for a race won. "It is a small thing," he candidly confessed; "nothing
more than a corporal's stripe to the man who covets the baton of a field
marshal, but you know the light that leads me, dear Evening Star. You'll
find me scrambling up the hillside toward you at least, even if, as they
would say hereabouts, 'hit's a right-smart slavish upgoin'.'"

But with McCalloway, to whom he need not soften the edges of disclosure,
he spoke of something else. His victory in primary and election seemed
to demonstrate an augmented popularity, and yet he had become
instinctively cognizant of a covert but bitter undertow of hatred
against him: something unspoken and indefinable but existent and malign.

McCalloway paused with his supper coffee cup half way to his lips when
Boone announced that conviction one evening, and eyed the other intently
before he made an answer.

"I dare say," he hazarded at length, "that the old scars of the
Carr-Gregory war have never entirely healed. The rancour may begin to
smart afresh as your former enemies see your influence mounting."

But Boone shook his head.

"Of course, I've thought of that--but this is something else."

"Then, my boy, what is your conjecture?"

Boone's reply came slowly and thoughtfully.

"To you, sir, I can speak bluntly and without fear of being charged with
timidity. Frankly, sir, I'm more than half expecting to be 'lay-wayed'
some fine day as I ride along a tangled trail."

"I've had to take some chances in my time," asserted the soldier
modestly, while his brows gathered in a frown, "but that is one form of
danger that always sends a shiver down my spine; the attack that comes
without warning." He broke off, then energetically added: "If _you_ give
credence to such a po