It was her husband's voice, out of a darkness that they only then realized. The man threw her aside with a roughness that momentarily shocked her above any sense of surprise or shame: SHE would have confronted her husband in his arms,--glorified and translated,--had he but kept her there. Yet she answered, with a quiet, level voice that astonished her lover, “Here! I'm just coming down!” and walked coolly to the ladder. Looking over, and seeing her husband with the deputy standing in the barnyard, she quickly returned, put her finger to her lips, made a gesture for her companion to conceal himself in the hay again, and was turning away, when, perhaps shamed by her superior calmness, he grasped her hand tightly and whispered, “Come again tonight, dear; do!” She hesitated, raised her hand suddenly to her lips, and then quickly disengaging it, slipped down the ladder. “Ye haven't done much work yet as I kin see,” said Ira wearily. “Whitey and Red Tip [the cows] are hangin' over the corral, just waitin'.” “The yellow hen we reckoned was lost is sittin' in the hayloft, and mustn't be disturbed,” said Mrs. Beasley, with decision; “and ye'll have to take the hay from the stack to-night. And,” with an arch glance at the deputy, “as I don't see that you two have done much either, you're just in time to help fodder down.” Setting the three men to work with the same bright audacity, the task was soon completed--particularly as the deputy found no opportunity for exclusive dalliance with Mrs. Beasley. She shut the barn door herself, and led the way to the house, learning incidentally that the deputy had abandoned the chase, was to occupy a “shake-down” on the kitchen-floor that night with the constable, and depart at daybreak. The gloom of her husband's face had settled into a look of heavy resignation and alternate glances of watchfulness, which only seemed to inspire her with renewed vivacity. But the cooking of supper withdrew her disturbing presence for a time from the room, and gave him some relief. When the meal was ready he sought further surcease from trouble in copious draughts of whiskey, which she produced from a new bottle, and even pressed upon the deputy in mischievous contrition for her previous inhospitality. “Now I know that it wasn't whiskey only ye came for, I'll show you that Sue Beasley is no slouch of a barkeeper either,” she said.