At this Wade laughed, and Columbine followed suit.

“Well, you look a little sassy to-day, which I take is a good sign,” said Wade.  “I’ve got some news that will come near to makin’ you well.”

“Oh, tell it quick!” she cried.

“Wils won’t lose his leg.  It’s gettin’ well.  An’ there was a letter from his father, forgivin’ him for somethin’ he never told me.”

“My prayers were answered!” whispered Columbine, and she closed her eyes tight.

“An’ his father wants him to come home to run the ranch,” went on Wade.

“Oh!” Her eyes popped open with sudden fright.  “But he can’t—­he won’t go?”

“I reckon not.  He wouldn’t if he could.  But some day he will, an’ take you home with him.”

Columbine covered her face with her hands, and was silent a moment.

“Such prophecies!  They—­they—­” She could not conclude.

“Ahuh!  I know.  The strange fact is, lass, that they all come true.  I wish I had all happy ones, instead of them black, croakin’ ones that come like ravens....  Well, you’re better to-day?”

“Yes.  Oh yes.  Ben, what have you got for me?”

“You’re in an awful hurry.  I want to talk to you, an’ if I show what I’ve got then there will be no talkin’.  You say Jack hasn’t been in to-day?”

“Not yet, thank goodness.”

“How about Old Bill?”

“Ben, you never call him my dad.  I wish you would.  When you don’t it always reminds me that he’s really not my dad.”

“Ahuh!  Well, well!” replied Wade, with his head bowed.  “It is just queer I can never remember....  An’ how was he to-day?”

“For a wonder he didn’t mention poor me.  He was full of talk about going to Kremmling.  Means to take Jack along.  Do you know, Ben, dad can’t fool me.  He’s afraid to leave Jack here alone with me.  So dad talked a lot about selling stock an’ buying supplies, and how he needed Jack to go, and so forth.  I’m mighty glad he means to take him.  But my! won’t Jack be sore.”

“I reckon.  It’s time he broke out.”

“And now, dear Ben—­what have you got for me?  I know it’s from Wilson,” she coaxed.

“Lass, would you give much for a little note from Wils?” asked Wade, teasingly.

“Would I?  When I’ve been hoping and praying for just that!”

“Well, if you’d give so much for a note, how much would you give me for a whole bookful that took Wils two hours to write?”

“Ben!  Oh, I’d—­I’d give—­” she cried, wild with delight.  “I’d kiss you!”

“You mean it?” he queried, waving the book aloft.

“Mean it?  Come here!”

There was fun in this for Wade, but also a deep and beautiful emotion that quivered through him.  Bending over her, he placed the little book in her hand.  He did not see clearly, then, as she pulled him lower and kissed him on the cheek, generously, with sweet, frank gratitude and affection.