ed our cow from
that poison-weed. An' Tom gave her up to die."

"The boys up home were telling me Mr. Wade had saved some of our cattle.
Dad was delighted. You know he's lost a good many head of stock from
this poison-weed. I saw so many dead steers on my last ride up the
mountain. It's too bad our new man didn't get here sooner to save them.
I asked him how he did it, and he said he was a doctor."

"A cow-doctor," laughed Mrs. Andrews. "Wal, that's a new one on me.
Accordin' to Tom, this here Wade, when he seen our sick cow, said she'd
eat poison-weed--larkspur, I think he called it--an' then when she drank
water it formed a gas in her stomach an' she swelled up turrible. Wade
jest stuck his knife in her side a little an' let the gas out, and she
got well."

"Ughh!... What cruel doctoring! But if it saves the cattle, then it's
good."

"It'll save them if they can be got to right off," replied Mrs. Andrews.

"Speaking of doctors," went on Columbine, striving to make her query
casual, "do you know whether or not Wilson Moore had his foot treated by
a doctor at Kremmling?"

"He did not," answered Mrs. Andrews. "Wasn't no doctor there. They'd had
to send to Denver, an', as Wils couldn't take that trip or wait so long,
why, Mrs. Plummer fixed up his foot. She made a good job of it, too, as
I can testify."

"Oh, I'm--very thankful!" murmured Columbine. "He'll not be crippled
or--or club-footed, then?"

"I reckon not. You can see for yourself. For Wils's here. He was drove
up night before last an' is stayin' with my brother-in-law--in the other
cabin there."

Mrs. Andrews launched all this swiftly, with evident pleasure, but with
more of woman's subtle motive. Her eyes were bent with shrewd kindness
upon the younger woman.

"Here!" exclaimed Columbine, with a start, and for an instant she was at
the mercy of conflicting surprise and joy and alarm. Alternately she
flushed and paled.

"Sure he's here," replied Mrs. Andrews, now looking out of the door. "He
ought to be in sight somewheres. He's walkin' with a crutch."

"Crutch!" cried Columbine, in dismay.

"Yes, crutch, an' he made it himself.... I don't see him nowheres. Mebbe
he went in when he see you comin'. For he's powerful sensitive about
that crutch."

"Then--if he's so--so sensitive, perhaps I'd better go," said Columbine,
struggling with embarrassment and discomfiture. What if she happened to
meet him! Would he imagine her purpose in coming there? H