It seemed to him that his life had had three phases. The first was his childhood, and he remembered his gay and gentle mother. She had soothed his cut fingers, skinned knees, heartbreaks, all the little tragedies of childhood that are unimportant to almost everyone except a child. Vividly, Ellis remembered riding with her, she on a spirited horse while he bestrode a pony. It had always seemed to him that they could ride forever. The second, which Ellis thought of as his sterile phase, came after his mother died. His father was affectionate and kind, and in his own way he had been proud of Ellis. But he had been too preoccupied with gambling and his numerous enterprises to give enough attention to his son. Ellis had been grief-stricken when he died, but it was not the complete desolation he had known when his mother passed away. The years when Uncle George had been in charge of him were the worst of all--Uncle George, the sanctimonious cheat who had come into possession of most of the family fortune, and by methods so legalistic and clever that even Ellis's friends, who wanted to help him, could do nothing. But that was all in the past. Ellis had hated George at the time, but later events had made that hatred seem somehow dim and unimportant. The third phase, a short one, had centered about Mary Harkness, a vivacious, pretty, intelligent little brunette. Ellis had thrown himself heart and soul at her feet. He knew now that she had never wanted him there and had tried, as politely as possible, to tell him so. But Ellis's whole world had crashed when Mary married another. Now, Ellis felt, he was entering upon the fourth and most worth-while phase of his life. It seemed to him that, until he met Barbara, he had never known his capacity for feeling. It was almost like living for twenty years without ever having been fully alive. In Barbara lay fruition and in her was the only possible life. Ellis knew, and he was grateful to Mary Harkness because she had helped him now. Ellis knew also that Emma trusted him pretty much, though not entirely, and he had a feeling that Joe trusted him not at all. At the thought of Joe's worried and suspicious eyes watching him, Ellis felt the familiar rage and resentment beginning to surge up in him, and he clamped down hard on it because conquering his temper was the one thing he was determined to do. Suddenly he sat up and grasped his rifle in both hands. Out of the night had come a sound that should not be. A moment later a shadow moved before him and Ellis's heart leaped. "Bobby!" "I couldn't sleep," she said softly. "I came out to see you." He rose, encircled her slim waist with his arms and kissed her. Their lips parted but their arms remained about each other while they looked at the stars and for the moment they were the whole world. Ellis said, "I wish we were in Oregon." "Why?" "So I could marry you."