“Yes, I reckon it is, sometimes,” replied Wade, wagging his head solemnly.  “Young folks, I’m grantin’ all you say as to Jack’s reformation, except that it’s permanent.  I’m grantin’ he’s sincere—­that he’s not playin’ a part—­that his vicious instincts are smothered under a noble impulse to be what he ought to be.  It’s no trick.  Buster Jack has all but done the impossible.”

“Then why isn’t his sincerity and good work to be permanent?” asked Moore, impatiently, and his gesture was violent.

“Wils, his change is not moral force.  It’s passion.”

The cowboy paled.  Columbine stood silent, with intent eyes upon the hunter.  Neither of them seemed to understand him well enough to make reply.

“Love can work marvels in any man,” went on Wade.  “But love can’t change the fiber of a man’s heart.  A man is born so an’ so.  He loves an’ hates an’ feels accordin’ to the nature.  It’d be accordin’ to nature for Jack Belllounds to stay reformed if his love for Collie lasted.  An’ that’s the point.  It can’t last.  Not in a man of his stripe.”

“Why not?” demanded Moore.

“Because Jack’s love will never be returned—­satisfied.  It takes a man of different caliber to love a woman who’ll never love him.  Jack’s obsessed by passion now.  He’d perform miracles.  But that’s not possible.  The miracle necessary here would be for him to change his moral force, his blood, the habits of his mind.  That’s beyond his power.”

Columbine flung out an appealing hand.

“Ben, I could pretend to love him—­I might make myself love him, if that would give him the power.”

“Lass, don’t delude yourself.  You can’t do that,” replied Wade.

“How do you know what I can do?” she queried, struggling with her helplessness.

“Why, child, I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Wilson, he’s right, he’s right!” she cried.  “That’s why it’s so terrible for me now.  He knows my very heart.  He reads my soul....  I can never love Jack Belllounds.  Nor ever pretend love!”

“Collie, if Ben knows you so well, you ought to listen to him, as you used to,” said Moore, touching her hand with infinite sympathy.

Wade watched them.  His pity and affection did not obstruct the ruthless expression of his opinions or the direction of his intentions.

“Lass, an’ you, Wils, listen,” he said, with all his gentleness.  “It’s bad enough without you makin’ it worse.  Don’t blind yourselves.  That’s the hell with so many people in trouble.  It’s hard to see clear when you’re sufferin’ and fightin’.  But I see clear....  Now with just a word I could fetch this new Jack Belllounds back to his Buster Jack tricks!”

“Oh, Ben!  No!  No!  No!” cried Columbine, in a distress that showed how his force dominated her.

Moore’s face turned as white as ashes.

Wade divined then that Moore was aware of what he himself knew about Jack Belllounds.  And to his love for Moore was added an infinite respect.