.

"Jack, that is big of you," she replied, hurriedly. "I respect you--like
you for it. But you needn't tell me. I'd rather you didn't. I'll take
the will for the deed."

Belllounds evidently experienced a poignant shock of amaze, of relief,
of wonder, of gratitude. In an instant he seemed transformed.

"Collie, if I hadn't loved you before I'd love you now. That was going
to be the hardest job I ever had--to tell you my--my story. I meant it.
And now I'll not have to feel your shame for me and I'll not feel I'm a
cheat or a liar.... But I will tell you this--if you love me you'll make
a man of me!"

CHAPTER III

The rancher thought it best to wait till after the round-up before he
turned over the foremanship to his son. This was wise, but Jack did not
see it that way. He showed that his old, intolerant spirit had, if
anything, grown during his absence. Belllounds patiently argued with
him, explaining what certainly should have been clear to a young man
brought up in Colorado. The fall round-up was the most important time of
the year, and during the strenuous drive the appointed foreman should
have absolute control. Jack gave in finally with a bad grace.

It was unfortunate that he went directly from his father's presence out
to the corrals. Some of the cowboys who had ridden all the day before
and stood guard all night had just come in. They were begrimed with
dust, weary, and sleepy-eyed.

"This hyar outfit won't see my tracks no more," said one, disgustedly.
"I never kicked on doin' two men's work. But when it comes to rustlin'
day and night, all the time, I'm a-goin' to pass."

"Turn in, boys, and sleep till we get back with the chuck-wagon," said
Wilson Moore. "We'll clean up that bunch to-day."

"Ain't you tired, Wils?" queried Bludsoe, a squat, bow-legged cowpuncher
who appeared to be crippled or very lame.

"Me? Naw!" grunted Moore, derisively. "Blud, you sure ask fool
questions.... Why, you--mahogany-colored, stump-legged, biped of a
cowpuncher, I've had three hours' sleep in four nights!"

"What's a biped?" asked Bludsoe, dubiously.

Nobody enlightened him.

"Wils, you-all air the only eddicated cowman I ever loved, but I'm a
son-of-a-gun if we ain't agoin' to come to blows some day,"
declared Bludsoe.

"He shore can sling English," drawled Lem Billings. "I reckon he
swallowed a dictionary onct."

"Wal, he can sling a rope, too, an' thet evens up," added Jim Montana.

Just at this mome