resentiments. As
he and Columbine halted in the trail, Belllounds's hurried stride
lengthened until he almost ran. He carried the rifle forward in a most
significant manner. Black as a thunder-cloud was his face. Alas for the
dignity and pain and resolve that had only recently showed there!

Belllounds reached them. He was frothing at the mouth. He cocked the
rifle and thrust it toward Wade, holding low down.

"You--meddling sneak! If you open your trap I'll bore you!" he shouted,
almost incoherently.

Wade knew when danger of life loomed imminent. He fixed his glance upon
the glaring eyes of Belllounds.

"Jack, seein' I'm not packin' a gun, it'd look sorta natural, along with
your other tricks, if you bored me."

His gentle voice, his cool mien, his satire, were as giant's arms to
drag Belllounds back from murder. The rifle was raised, the hammer
reset, the butt lowered to the ground, while Belllounds, snarling and
choking, fought for speech.

"I'll get even--with you," he said, huskily. "I'm on to your game now.
I'll fix you later. But--I'll do you harm now if you mix in with this!"

Then he wheeled to Columbine, and as if he had just recognized her, a
change that was pitiful and shocking convulsed his face. He leaned
toward her, pointing with shaking, accusing hand.

"I saw you--up there. I watched--you," he panted.

Columbine faced him, white and mute.

"It was you--wasn't it?" he yelled.

"Yes, of course it was."

She might have struck him, for the way he flinched.

"What was that--a trick--a game--a play all fixed up for my benefit?"

"I don't understand you," she replied.

"Bah! You--you white-faced cat!... I saw you! Saw you in Moore's arms!
Saw him hug you--kiss you!... Then--I saw--you put up your arms--round
his neck--kiss him--kiss him--kiss him!... I saw all that--didn't I?"

"You must have, since you say so," she returned, with perfect composure.

"But _did_ you?" he almost shrieked, the blood cording and bulging red,
as if about to burst the veins of temples and neck.

"Yes, I did," she flashed. There was primitive woman uppermost in her
now, and a spirit no man might provoke with impunity.

"_You love him?_" he asked, very low, incredulously, with almost insane
eagerness for denial in his query.

Then Wade saw the glory of her--saw her mother again in that proud,
fierce uplift of face, that flamed red and then blazed white--saw hate
and passion and love in all their primal nakedne