"Wils, you call me pard, don't you? I reckon you never knew me. Why, the game's 'most played out, an' I haven't showed my hand!... I'd see Jack Belllounds in h.e.l.l before I'd let him have Collie. An' if she carried out her strange an' lofty idea of duty--an' married him right this afternoon--I could an' I would part them before night!"

He ended that speech in a voice neither had ever heard him use before.

And the look of him must have been in harmony with it. Columbine, wide-eyed and gasping, seemed struck to the heart. Moore's white face showed awe and fear and irresponsible primitive joy. Wade turned away from them, the better to control the pa.s.sion that had mastered him. And it did not subside in an instant. He paced to and fro, his head bowed.

Presently, when he faced around, it was to see what he had expected to see.

Columbine was clasped in Moore's arms.

"Collie, you didn't--you haven't--promised to marry him--again!"

"No, oh--no! I haven't! I was only--only trying to--to make up my mind.

Wilson, don't look at me so terribly!"

"You'll not agree again? You'll not set another day?" demanded Moore, pa.s.sionately. He strained her to him, yet held her so he could see her face, thus dominating her with both strength and will. His face was corded now, and darkly flushed. His jaw quivered. "You'll never marry Jack Belllounds! You'll not let sudden impulse--sudden persuasion or force change you? Promise! Swear you'll never marry him. Swear!"

"Oh, Wilson, I promise--I swear!" she cried. "Never! I'm yours. It would be a sin. I've been mad to--to blind myself."

"You love me! You love me!" he cried, in a sudden transport.

"Oh, yes, yes! I do."

"Say it then! Say it--so I'll never doubt--never suffer again!"

"I love you, Wilson! I--I love you--unutterably," the whispered. "I love you--so--I'm broken-hearted now. I'll never live without you. I'll die--I love you so!"

"You--you flower--you angel!" he whispered in return. "You woman! You precious creature! I've been crazed at loss of you!"

Wade paced out of earshot, and this time he remained away for a considerable time. He lived again moments of his own past, unforgetable and sad. When at length he returned toward the young couple they were sitting apart, composed once more, talking earnestly. As he neared them Columbine rose to greet him with wonderful eyes, in which reproach blended with affection.

"Ben, so this is what you've done!" she exclaimed.

"La.s.s, I'm only a humble instrument, an' I believe G.o.d guides me right,"

replied the hunter.

"I love you more, it seems, for what you make me suffer," she said, and she kissed him with a serious sweetness. "I'm only a leaf in the storm.

But--let what will come.... Take me home."

They said good-by to Wilson, who sat with head bowed upon his hands. His voice trembled as he answered them. Wade found the trail while Columbine mounted. As they went slowly down the gentle slope, stepping over the numerous logs fallen across the way, Wade caught out of the tail of his eye a moving object along the outer edge of the aspen grove above them.

It was the figure of a man, skulking behind the trees. He disappeared.

Wade casually remarked to Columbine that now she could spur the pony and hurry on home. But Columbine refused. When they got a little farther on, out of sight of Moore and somewhat around to the left, Wade espied the man again. He carried a rifle. Wade grew somewhat perturbed.

"Collie, you run on home," he said, sharply.

"Why? You've complained of not seeing me. Now that I want to be with you ... Ben, you see some one!"

Columbine's keen faculties evidently sensed the change in Wade, and the direction of his uneasy glance convinced her.

"Oh, there's a man!... Ben, it is--yes, it's Jack," she exclaimed, excitedly.

"Reckon you'd have it better if you say Buster Jack," replied Wade, with his tragic smile.

"Ah!" whispered Columbine, as she gazed up at the aspen slope, with eyes lighting to battle.

"Run home, Collie, an' leave him to me," said Wade.

"Ben, you mean he--he saw us up there in the grove? Saw me in Wilson's arms--saw me kissing him?"

"Sure as you're born, Collie. He watched us. He saw all your love-makin'. I can tell that by the way he walks. It's Buster Jack again! Alas for the new an' n.o.ble Jack! I told you, Collie. Now you run on an' leave him to me."

Wade became aware that she turned at his last words and regarded him attentively. But his gaze was riveted on the striding form of Belllounds.

"Leave him to you? For what reason, my friend?" she asked.

"Buster Jack's on the rampage. Can't you see that? He'll insult you.

He'll--"

"I will not go," interrupted Columbine, and, halting her pony, she deliberately dismounted.

Wade grew concerned with the appearance of young Belllounds, and it was with a melancholy reminder of the infallibility of his presentiments. 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 c.o.c.ked 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 b.u.t.t 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!