her heart! When she ceased to love any one to whom she
had given her love then she would have ceased to breathe.

"Lass, this isn't the first mornin' I've waited for you," he said,
presently. "An' when I had to go back to Wils without you--well, it
was hard."

"Then he wants to see me--so badly?" she asked.

"Reckon you've not thought much about him or me lately," said Wade.

"No. I've tried to put you out of my mind. I've had so much to think
of--why, even the sleepless nights have flown!"

"Are you goin' to confide in me--as you used to?"

"Ben, there's nothing to confide. I'm just where I left off in that
letter to Wilson. And the more I think the more muddled I get."

Wade greeted this reply with a long silence. It was enough to feel her
hand upon his and to have the glad comfort and charm of her presence
once more. He seemed to have grown older lately. The fragrant breath of
the sage slopes came to him as something precious he must feel and love
more. A haunting transience mocked him from these rolling gray hills.
Old White Slides loomed gray and dark up into the blue, grim and stern
reminder of age and of fleeting time. There was a cloud on
Wade's horizon.

"Wils is waitin' down there," said Wade, pointing to a grove of aspens
below. "Reckon it's pretty close to the house, an' a trail runs along
there. But Wils can't ride very well yet, an' this appeared to be the
best place."

"Ben, I don't care if dad or Jack know I've met Wilson. I'll tell them,"
said Columbine.

"Ahuh! Well, if I were you I wouldn't," he replied.

They went down the slope and entered the grove. It was an open, pretty
spot, with grass and wild flowers, and old, bleached logs, half sunny
and half shady under the new-born, fluttering aspen leaves. Wade saw
Moore sitting on his horse. And it struck the hunter significantly that
the cowboy should be mounted when an hour back he had left him sitting
disconsolately on a log. Moore wanted Columbine to see him first, after
all these months of fear and dread, mounted upon his horse. Wade heard
Columbine's glad little cry, but he did not turn to look at her then.
But when they reached the spot where Moore stood Wade could not resist
the desire to see the meeting between the lovers.

Columbine, being a woman, and therefore capable of hiding agitation,
except in moments of stress, met that trying situation with more
apparent composure than the cowboy. Moore's long, piercing gaze took the
ros