ictory. But it's the first stage of the journey, and
after the legislature comes Congress. You see, small as it is, it's
vital."

Anne studied the gossamer building about which a spider was busying
itself, and Boone knew that in her mind some matter was demanding
discussion. He waited for her to broach it and soon she began.

"Morgan held politics in contempt until he went too far into the game to
abandon it, but even now he's seeking to make it lead to something
else."

"What?" inquired Boone, wondering what topic Anne was approaching by
this path of indirection.

"I can tell you without abusing a confidence," she laughed, "because
he's never told me. I've only guessed it, but I'm sure I'm right. His
goal is a European embassy with a life near the trappings of a throne.
And since Morgan is Morgan, he'll get it. He never fails."

"In one thing," announced Boone shortly, "he's going to fail."

Anne nodded, "In one thing he is," she agreed. "But if he goes into the
diplomatic service, Boone, there'll be a place left vacant in the firm.
Have you thought of that? Wouldn't your own future lie smoother that
way? You could take your place here at the bar instead of struggling to
herd wild sheep, and in the end you'd be Uncle Tom's logical successor."

Boone's face became sober, almost, Anne thought, distressed. The easy
swing of his shoulders stiffened, and Anne intuitively knew that instead
of suggesting a new thought she had broached a subject of painful
deliberation, already mulled over with a heavy heart.

Into the young lover's mind flashed the picture of a rough hill
evangelist exhorting rougher hearers, and of scriptural words: ...
"taketh him up into an exceeding high mountain, and sheweth him all the
kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them."

Finally he spoke: "I _have_ thought of it, Anne.... The Colonel has even
suggested it.... Of course he hasn't said anything about Morgan's going
away; he only intimated that there might be a place for me in the
practice."

"You didn't refuse? It's a good law firm, you know--old and honoured."

Suddenly he spread his hands in a gesture almost of appeal, as though he
hoped she might understand and yet hardly dared to expect it.

"Anne, those wild sheep you just spoke of are my people. Perhaps with
all their faults they have a few virtues too, and, if they have, loyalty
to their own blood is chief of them. The world knows most about their
murders, their moonshinin