he East and go back to
the old business wherewith he had hoped to make his name honored and
gain wealth, or should he return to this wild, free land again and start
anew?

His mother was dead. Perhaps if she had lived and cared he would have
made good in the first place. His sisters were both married to wealthy
men and not deeply interested in him. He had disappointed and mortified
them; their lives were filled with social duties; they had never missed
him. His father had been dead many years. As for his uncle, his mother's
brother, whose heir he was to have been before he got himself into
disgrace, he decided not to go near him. He would stay as long as he
must to undo the wrong he had done. He would call on his sisters and
then come back; come back and let Margaret decide what she wanted him to
do--that is, if she would consent to link her life with one who had been
once a failure. Margaret! How wonderful she was! If Margaret said he
ought to go back and be a lawyer, he would go--yes, even if he had to
enter his uncle's office as an underling to do it. His soul loathed the
idea, but he would do it for Margaret, if she thought it best. And so he
mused as he rode!

When the Lone Fox camp was reached and the men sent out on their belated
task, Gardley decided not to go with them back to meet Kemp and the
other men, but sent word to Kemp that he had gone the short cut to
Ashland, hoping to get to a part of the evening rehearsal yet.

Now that short cut led him to the lonely crossing of the trail much
sooner than Kemp and the others could reach it from the rendezvous; and
there in cramped positions, and with much unnecessary cursing and
impatience, four strong masked men had been concealed for four long
hours.

Through the stillness of the twilight rode Gardley, thinking of
Margaret, and for once utterly off his guard. His long day's work was
done, and though he had not been able to get back when he planned, he
was free now, free until the day after to-morrow. He would go at once to
her and see if there was anything she wanted him to do.

Then, as if to help along his enemies, he began to hum a song, his
clear, high voice reaching keenly to the ears of the men in ambush:

"'Oh, the time is long, mavourneen,
Till I come again, O mavourneen--'"

"And the toime 'll be longer thun iver, oim thinkin', ma purty little
voorneen!" said an unmistakable voice of Erin through the gathering
dusk.

Gardley's horse st