nvicts were struck
out sharply against the dark background of undergrowth, and the
reflection of the sunset glow on the river lighted up their sullen faces
and burnished the use-worn links in their leg-fetters.

"The chain-gang;" said the captain, briefly. "That's about where the
fellow that robbed the Bayou State Security will bring up, if they catch
him. He'll have to be mighty tough and well-seasoned if he lives to
worry through twenty years of that, don't you think?"

But Miss Farnham could not answer; and even the unobservant captain of
river boats saw that she was moved and was sorry he had spoken.

IX

THE MIDDLE WATCH

In any path of performance there is but one step which is irrevocable,
namely, the final one, and in Charlotte Farnham's besetment this step
was the mailing of the letter to Mr. Galbraith. Many times during the
evening she wrought herself up to the plunging point, only to recoil on
the very brink; and when at length she gave up the struggle and went to
bed, the sealed letter was still under her pillow.

Now it is a well-accepted truism that an exasperated sense of duty, like
remorse and grief, fights best in the night-watches. It was of no avail
to protest that her intention was still unshaken. Conscience urged that
delay was little less culpable than refusal, since every hour gave the
criminal an added chance of escape. The logic was unanswerable, and
trembling lest the implacable inward monitor should presently insist
upon the immediate revealment of the fugitive's identity to Captain
Mayfield, she got up and dressed hurriedly, meaning to end the agony
once for all by giving the letter to the night clerk.

But once again the chapter of accidents intervened. While she was
unbolting her door, the mellow roar of the whistle and the jangling of
the engine-room bells warned her that the _Belle Julie_ was approaching
a landing. Remembering the cause of her earliest failure, she ran
quickly to the office, only to find it deserted and the door locked.

This time, however, she determined not to be diverted. Going back to the
state-room for a wrap she returned to wait for the clerk's reappearance.
This final pause soon proved to be the severest trial of all. The
minutes dragged leaden-winged; and to sit quietly in the silence and
solitude of the great saloon became a nerve-racking impossibility. When
it went past endurance, she rose and stepped out upon the
promenade-deck.

The electric