cer and kinder
for Jack's absence. Then all at once he sank into the glooms. I couldn't
cheer him up. When Ben Wade came in after supper dad always got him to
tell some of those terrible stories. You know what perfectly terrible
stories Ben can tell. Well, dad had to hear the worst ones. And poor me,
I didn't want to listen, but I couldn't resist. Ben _can_ tell stories.
And oh, what he's lived through!

"I got the idea it wasn't Jack's absence so much that made dad sit by
the hour before the fire, staring at the coals, sighing, and looking so
God-forsaken. My heart just aches for dad. He broods and broods. He'll
break out some day, and then I don't want to be here. There doesn't seem
to be any idea when Jack will come home. He might never come. But Ben
says he will. He says Jack hates work and that he couldn't be gambler
enough or wicked enough to support himself without working. Can't you
hear Ben Wade say that? 'I'll tell you,' he begins, and then comes a
prophecy of trouble or evil. And, on the other hand, think how he used
to say: 'Wait! Don't give up! Nothin' is ever so bad as it seems at
first! Be true to what your heart says is right! It's never too late!
Love is the only good in life! Love each other and wait and trust! It'll
all come right in the end!'... And, Wilson, I'm bound to confess that
both his sense of calamity and his hope of good seem infallible. Ben
Wade is supernatural. Sometimes, just for a moment, I dare to let myself
believe in what he says--that our dream will come true and I'll be
yours. Then oh! oh! oh! joy and stars and bells and heaven! I--I ... But
what _am_ I writing? Wilson Moore, this is quite enough for to-day. Take
care you don't believe I'm so--so _very_ much in love.

"Ever,
"COLUMBINE."

"_February_ ----.

"DEAREST COLLIE,--I don't know the date, but spring's coming. To-day I
kicked Bent Wade with my once sore foot. It didn't hurt me, but hurt
Wade's feelings. He says there'll be no holding me soon. I should say
not. I'll eat you up. I'm as hungry as the mountain-lion that's been
prowling round my cabin of nights. He's sure starved. Wade tracked him
to a hole in the cliff.

"Collie, I can get around first rate. Don't need my crutch any more. I
can make a fire and cook a meal. Wade doesn't think so, but I do. He
says if I want to hold your affection, not to let you eat anything I
cook. I can rustle around, too. Haven't been far yet. My stock has
wintered