nger be denied, even in the midst of her
storm of emotion.

"But I--I can't leave them--the little ones. I can't, I can't!" she
cried piteously. "Jim, I love you. God knows how badly I love you, but
I--I love them, too. They are mine. They are part of me, and--and I
can't do without them. No--no. I can't go--I won't go," she hurried
on, without conviction. "I can't. I want my babies--my little boy and
girl. You say you love me. I know you love me. Then take them with us,
and--and I'll do as you wish. Oh, I'm wicked, I know. I'm wicked, and
cruel, and vile to leave Scipio. And I don't want to, but--but--oh,
Jim, say you'll take them, too. I can never be happy without them. You
can never understand. You are a man, and so strong." He drew her to
him again, and she nestled close in his arms. "You don't know what it
is to hear a child's voice, and know that it is part of you, your
life, one little tiny atom beginning all over again. No, no--I must
have them."

She slowly drew herself away, watching his handsome face, half
fearfully, half eagerly. She knew in her heart that she was waiting
for his verdict, and, whatever it might be, she would have to abide by
it. She knew she must do as he wished, and that very knowledge
gladdened her, even in spite of her maternal dread of being parted
from her babies.

She saw his expression change. She saw the look of perplexity in the
sudden drawing together of his finely marked brows, she saw the
half-angry impatience flash into his eyes, she saw this again replaced
with a half-derisive smile. And each emotion she read in her own way,
molding it to suit and fall in with her own desires, yet with a
willing feeling that his decision should be paramount, that she was
there to obey him.

He slowly shook his head, and a curious hardness set itself about his
strong mouth.

"Not now," he said. "I would, but it can't be done. See here, Jess,
I've got two horses hidden away down there in the bush beside the
creek--one for you, and one for me. We can't fetch those kiddies along
with us now. It wouldn't be safe, anyhow. We've got sixty-odd miles to
ride through the foothills. But see, I'll fetch 'em one day, after, if
you must have 'em. How's that?"

"But they'll never let you," cried Jessie. "The whole camp will be up
in arms when they know I've gone. You don't know them, Jim. They're
fond of Zip, and they'll stand by him."

James laughed contemptuously.

"Say, Jess," he cried, "you co