rancher's hard-working wife. Her face brightened at the advent of
Columbine, and showed a little surprise and curiosity as well.

"Laws, but it's good to see you, Columbine," was her greeting. "You
'ain't been here for a long spell."

"I've been coming, but just put it off," replied Columbine.

And so, after the manner of women neighbors, they began to talk of the
fall round-up, and the near approach of winter with its loneliness, and
the children, all of which naturally led to more personal and
interesting topics.

"An' is it so, Columbine, that you're to marry Jack Belllounds?" asked
Mrs. Andrews, presently.

"Yes, I guess it is," replied Columbine, smiling.

"Humph! I'm no relative of yours or even a particular, close friend, but
I'd like to say--"

"Please don't," interposed Columbine.

"All right, my girl. I guess it's better I don't say anythin'. It's a
pity, though, onless you love this Buster Jack. An' you never used to do
that, I'll swan."

"No, I don't love Jack--yet--as I ought to love a husband. But I'll try,
and if--if I--I never do--still, it's my duty to marry him."

"Some woman ought to talk to Bill Belllounds," declared Mrs. Andrews
with a grimness that boded ill for the old rancher.

"Did you know we had a new man up at the ranch?" asked Columbine,
changing the subject.

"You mean the hunter, Hell-Bent Wade?"

"Yes. But I hate that ridiculous name," said Columbine.

"It's queer, like lots of names men get in these parts. An' it'll stick.
Wade's been here twice; once as he was passin' with the hounds, an' the
other night. I like him, Columbine. He's true-blue, for all his strange
name. My men-folks took to him like ducks to water."

"I'm glad. I took to him almost like that," rejoined Columbine. "He has
the saddest face I ever saw."

"Sad? Wal, yes. That man has seen a good deal of what they tacked on to
his name. I laughed when I seen him first. Little lame fellar,
crooked-legged an' ragged, with thet awful homely face! But I forgot how
he looked next time he came."

"That's just it. He's not much to look at, but you forget his homeliness
right off," replied Columbine, warmly. "You feel something behind all
his--his looks."

"Wal, you an' me are women, an' we feel different," replied Mrs.
Andrews. "Now my men-folks take much store on what Wade can _do_. He
fixed up Tom's gun, that's been out of whack for a year. He made our
clock run ag'in, an' run better than ever. Then he sav