!" exclaimed Moore, in anxious concern.

"Collie an' you will hear me say a lot before long," returned Wade.
"But, as it's calculated to make you happy--why, all's well. I'm tired
an' hungry."

Wade did not choose to sit round the fire that night, fearing to invite
interrogation from his anxious friend, and for that matter from his
other inquisitively morbid self.

Next morning, though Wade felt rested, and the sky was blue and full of
fleecy clouds, and the melody of birds charmed his ear, and over all the
June air seemed thick and beating with the invisible spirit he loved, he
sensed the oppression, the nameless something that presaged catastrophe.

Therefore, when he looked out of the door to see Columbine swiftly
riding up the trail, her fair hair flying and shining in the sunlight,
he merely ejaculated, "Ahuh!"

"What's that?" queried Moore, sharp to catch the inflection.

"Look out," replied Wade, as he began to fill his pipe.

"Heavens! It's Collie! Look at her riding! Uphill, too!"

Wade followed him outdoors. Columbine was not long in arriving at the
cabin, and she threw the bridle and swung off in the same motion,
landing with a light thud. Then she faced them, pale, resolute, stern,
all the sweetness gone to bitter strength--another and a strange
Columbine.

"I've not slept a wink!" she said. "And I came as soon as I could get
away."

Moore had no word for her, not even a greeting. The look of her had
stricken him. It could have only one meaning.

"Mornin', lass," said the hunter, and he took her hand. "I couldn't tell
you looked sleepy, for all you said. Let's go into the cabin."

So he led Columbine in, and Moore followed. The girl manifestly was in a
high state of agitation, but she was neither trembling nor frightened
nor sorrowful. Nor did she betray any lack of an unflinching and
indomitable spirit. Wade read the truth of what she imagined was her
doom in the white glow of her, in the matured lines of womanhood that
had come since yesternight, in the sustained passion of her look.

"Ben! Wilson! The worst has come!" she announced.

Moore could not speak. Wade held Columbine's hand in both of his.

"Worst! Now, Collie, that's a terrible word. I've heard it many times.
An' all my life the worst's been comin'. An' it hasn't come yet.
You--only twenty years old--talkin' wild--the worst has come!... Tell me
your trouble now an' I'll tell you where you're wrong."

"Jack's a thief--a cattle-