Whatever that mounting thought of Jack Belllounds’s was it brought instant decision to Wade.  He went to the ranch-house and knocked upon the living-room door.  There was a light within, sending rays out through the windows into the semi-darkness.  Columbine opened the door and admitted Wade.  A bright fire crackled in the hearth.  Wade flashed a reassuring look at Columbine.

“Evenin’, Miss Collie.  Is your dad in?”

“Oh, it’s you, Ben!” she replied, after her start.  “Yes, dad’s here.”

The old rancher looked up from his reading.  “Howdy, Wade!  What can I do fer you?”

“Belllounds, I’ve cleaned out the cats an’ most of the varmints on your range.  An’ my work, lately, has been all sorts, not leavin’ me any time for little jobs of my own.  An’ I want to quit.”

“Wade, you’ve clashed with Jack!” exclaimed the rancher, jerking erect.

“Nothin’ of the kind.  Jack an’ me haven’t had words a good while.  I’m not denyin’ we might, an’ probably would clash sooner or later.  But that’s not my reason for quittin’.”

Manifestly this put an entirely different complexion upon the matter.  Belllounds appeared immensely relieved.

“Wal, all right.  I’ll pay you at the end of the month.  Let’s see, thet’s not long now.  You can lay off to-morrow.”

Wade thanked him and waited for further remarks.  Columbine had fixed big, questioning eyes upon Wade, which he found hard to endure.  Again he tried to flash her a message of reassurance.  But Columbine did not lose her look of blank wonder and gravity.

“Ben!  Oh, you’re not going to leave White Slides?” she asked.

“Reckon I’ll hang around yet awhile,” he replied.

Belllounds was wagging his head regretfully and ponderingly.

“Wal, I remember the day when no man quit me.  Wal, wal!—­times change.  I’m an old man now.  Mebbe, mebbe I’m testy.  An’ then thar’s thet boy!”

With a shrug of his broad shoulders he dismissed what seemed an encroachment of pessimistic thought.

“Wade, you’re packin’ off, then, on the trail?  Always on the go, eh?”

“No, I’m not hurryin’ off,” replied Wade.

“Wal, might I ask what you’re figgerin’ on?”

“Sure.  I’m considerin’ a cattle deal with Moore.  He’s a pretty keen boy an’ his father has big ranchin’ interests.  I’ve saved a little money an’ I’m no spring chicken any more.  Wils has begun to buy an’ sell stock, so I reckon I’ll go in with him.”

“Ahuh!” Belllounds gave a grunt of comprehension.  He frowned, and his big eyes set seriously upon the blazing fire.  He grasped complications in this information.

“Wal, it’s a free country,” he said at length, and evidently his personal anxieties were subjected to his sense of justice.  “Owin’ to the peculiar circumstances hyar at my range, I’d prefer thet Moore an’ you began somewhar else.  Thet’s natural.  But you’ve my good will to start on an’ I hope I’ve yours.”