e the devil, of course. You see
it was partly true. I _was_ going along, making money, playing my own
little hand for all it was worth. I couldn't rush off to the front just
to demonstrate to all and sundry--even to you--that I was a brave man
and a patriot. You understand, don't you? It took me quite a while to
feel, to really and truly feel, that I _ought_ to go--which I suppose
you felt right at the beginning. When I did see it that way--well, I
didn't advertise. I just got ready and went. If you had not been out of
sorts that day, I might have gone away with a kiss instead of your
contempt. But I didn't blame you. Besides, that's neither here nor
there, now. You're a prisoner. You can only be paroled on condition."

Sophie smiled up at him, and was kissed for her pains.

"Name the condition."

"That you love me. I've waited a long time for it."

"I've always loved you," she said gravely. "Sometimes more, sometimes
less. I haven't always believed we could be happy together. Sometimes I
have been positive we couldn't. But I've always measured other men by
you, and none of them quite measured up. That was why it stung me so to
see you so indifferent about the war. Probably if you had talked about
it to me, if I had known you were thinking of going, I should have been
afraid you would go, I should have been afraid for you. But you seemed
always so unconcerned. It maddened me to think I cared so much for a man
who cared nothing about wrongs and injustices, who could sit contentedly
at home while other men sacrificed themselves. My dear, I'm afraid I'm
an erratic person, a woman whose heart and head are nearly always at
odds."

Thompson laughed, looking down at her with an air of pride.

"That is to say you would always rather be sure than sorry," he
remarked. "Well, you can be sure of one thing, Sophie. You can't admit
that you really do care for me and then run away, as you did at Lone
Moose. I have managed to stand on my own feet at last, and your penalty
for liking me and managing to conceal the fact these many moons is that
you must stand with me."

She drew his face down to her and kissed it. Thompson held her fast.

"I can stand a lot of that," he said happily.

"You may have to," she murmured. "I am a woman, not a bisque doll. And
I've waited a long time for the right man."

CHAPTER XXX

A MARK TO SHOOT AT

An hour or so later Sam Carr came trudging home with a rod in his hand
and a creel sl