Jessie's eyes glowed at the man's note of savage strength and confidence. She knew he could and would do as he said, and this very fact yielded her to him more surely than any other display could have done. It was this wonderful daring, this reckless, savage manhood that had originally won her. He was so different from all others, from her puny husband. He swept her along and dazzled her. Her own virility cried out for such a mate, and no moral scruples could hope to stay so strong a tide of nature. "You'll do it?" she cried fervently. Then she nodded joyously. "Yes, yes, you'll do it. I know it. Oh, how good you are to me. I love you, Jim." Again she was in his arms. Again his kisses fell hot and fast upon her glowing face. Nature was rushing a strong flood tide. It was a moment that could have no repetition in their lives. They stood thus, locked in each other's arms, borne along by a passion that was beyond their control--lost to all the world, lost to all those things which should have mattered to them. It was the fervid outpouring of two natures which had nothing that was spiritual in them. They demanded the life of the senses, and so strong was the desire that they were lost to all else. Then suddenly in the midst of their dream came the disturbing patter of small feet and the joyous, innocent laughter of infantile glee. Two tiny mud-stained figures rushed at the doorway and fell sprawling into the hut. They were on their feet again in a moment, laughing and crowing out their delight. Then, as the man and woman sprang apart, they stood round-eyed, wondering and gaping. Jamie and Vada paused only till the grown-up eyes were turned in their direction, then their chorus broke out in one breath. "We got fi' 'piders--" "An' two bugs!" The important information was fairly shrieked, to the accompaniment of dancing eyes and flushed cheeks. Jessie gasped. But her emotion was not at the news so rudely broken. It was the breaking of the spell which had held her. Just for one horrific moment she stood staring helplessly at the innocent picture of her four-year-old twins, beautiful in spite of their grimy exterior, beautiful as a Heaven-inspired picture to the mother. The man smiled. Nor was it an unpleasant smile. Perhaps, somewhere in his savage composition, he had a grain of humor; perhaps it was only the foolish smile of a man whose wits are not equal to so incongruous a situation. "They're most ev'ry color," piped Vada, with added excitement. "Uh!" grunted Jamie in agreement. "An' the bugs has horns." But the man had recovered himself. The interruption had brought with it a realization of the time he had spent in the hut. "You'd best go and find more," he said. "There's heaps outside." Then he turned to Jessie. "Come on. We must be going. Have you got the things you need ready?" But the mother's eyes were on the small intruders. Something was gripping at her heart, and somehow it felt like four small and dirty hands.