Bill, sullen and defiant, had battled it out in the room above the office. All the vagaries of a sick mind were his. Murder, suicide, mysterious disappearance, chased each other across the field of his vision, and ever the specter of suicide returned to grin at him. For a day and a night Jap sat beside his bed, talking, soothing, comforting. Finally he made this compact: "To show you that I love you better than myself, Bill, I am going to promise that I will not marry until you are cured of this blow. Not a word, Bill! Happiness would turn to ashes if I accepted it at your cost. How far I am to blame in your trouble, I can only guess. I am not going to preach philosophy. I am only going to plead my love for you." He took the revolver from the drawer and laid it on the table beside Bill. "If you are the boy I think you are, you will be sticking type when I come back from Flossy's. If you are a coward, I will not grieve to find you have taken the soul that God gave you and flung it at His feet." Not trusting himself to look back, he hurried down the stairs. His heart was heavy with dread as he locked the office and walked blindly to the cottage where all his problems had been carried. He could not talk to Flossy, but, sitting beside her on the little front porch, he fought the mad impulse to run back to the office. He strained his ears for the sound that he was praying not to hear. Two hours he sat there, fighting with his fears, the longest hours of his life. Flossy sat as silent. No one knew Jap as Flossy did. Smoothing his tumbled hair and stroking his tightly clenched hands were her only expressions. Futile indeed would words be now. The tragedy that hovered over them both must work itself out. A whistle shrilled from the road. Jap sprang up with a strangled cry, as Wat Harlow came through the gate. His face was stern. "Bill allowed that this is where I'd find you, chatting your valuable time away," he chaffed. Then the mask of his countenance broke into a grin. "Is Bill in the office?" Jap's lips were so stiff he could scarcely articulate. "Sure he is," said Harlow cheerfully. "He wants you to ramble down there." "There's a hen on, Jap," he confided, after they had taken leave of Flossy. "We'll try to hatch something this time. I'm going to get in the game again. You know the old saying: 'You mustn't keep a good dog chained up.'" "Well?" queried Jap, his thoughts springing space and picturing what Bill might be doing. Wat was discreetly silent until they had passed through town and were inside the office. Bill, pale and haggard, looked up from his desk. He extended the paper he was writing on. Jap took it without a word. "WAT HARLOW FOR GOVERNOR!" "How's that for a head?" he demanded. "If we're going into this thing, we might as well go with both feet." He looked into Jap's face. Their eyes met. With one voice they cried: "Ellis!"