er."

Pen's eyes were for a moment horror-stricken. Then they blazed with
anger. And so suddenly that Jim and Dennis hardly saw her leave her
chair. She sprang over to Sara's couch and struck him across the mouth
with her open hand. The stillness in the room for a second was complete,
except that Sara breathed heavily as he rose to his elbow.

"I may or may not have produced the newspaper copy, but so help me the
God I have blasphemed, I have never used Pen's name," said Sara.

"But you have," said Jim. "You used it before Freet. You probably have
cursed me out before Fleckenstein as you did before him and Ames!"

"And there was my trying to help Jane Ames in the valley!" cried Pen
suddenly. "She's talking with the farmers' wives for Jim and I went with
her until the women were cattish. Oh, Jim, what have we done to you,
Sara and I?"

"I shall have to give up the fight a little earlier, that is all,"
answered Jim. "Don't feel badly, Pen. If I only had some way of
punishing Sara and stopping his mischief! Though it's too late now."

"Just be patient, Jim," said Sara. "My mischief will soon end."

Pen had heard only Jim, the first sentence of Jim's remarks. She stood
beside the table, white to the lips. "Jim, if you want to wreck my life,
stop the fight! Do you suppose, except for the moment's shame, I care
what they say about me? If you will only go on with your fight, Jim, let
them say what they will. I can stand it. My strength--my strength----"
Pen paused with a little sob, as if Uncle Denny reminded her of her
girlhood dreams, "my strength is in the eternal hills!"

"I have lived with George Saradokis all these years," Pen went on, "and
he's almost broken my faith in life. When I found I could help you, Jim,
I thought that I was making up for some of the wrong of my marriage. I
even thought that I'd be willing to go through my marriage again because
it had taught me how to help you fight. Jim, it will ruin my life if you
stop now!"

And Pen suddenly dropped her face in her hands and broke down entirely.
Jim never had seen Pen cry. He took a step toward her, then looked
pitifully at Uncle Denny.

Uncle Denny sprang from his chair.

"Go on out, Jim," he said. Then he folded Pen in his arms. "Rest here,
sweet, tired bird," he said in his rich voice. "Rest here, for I love
you with all me soul."

Jim's lips quivered. He went out into the night and once more climbed
the Elephant's back. For a long time he sa