“Ben, I never dreamed you ever had a wife,” said Columbine, softly, with her hands going to his shoulder.  “You must tell me of her some day....  But now—­if you want time—­if you think it best—­I’ll not marry Jack till August thirteenth.”

“That’ll give me time,” replied Wade.  “I’m thinkin’ Jack ought to be—­reformed, let’s call it—­before you marry him.  If all you say is true—­why we can turn him round.  Your promise will do most....  So, then, it’s settled?”

“Yes—­dear—­friends,” faltered the girl, tremulously, on the verge of a breakdown, now that the ordeal was past.

Wilson Moore stood gazing out of the door, his eyes far away on the gray slopes.

“Queer how things turn out,” he said, dreamily.  “August thirteenth!...  That’s about the time the columbines blow on the hills....  And I always meant columbine-time—­”

Here he sharply interrupted himself, and the dreamy musing gave way to passion.  “But I mean it yet!  I’ll—­I’ll die before I give up hope of you!”

CHAPTER XVI

Wade, watching Columbine ride down the slope on her homeward way, did some of the hardest thinking he had yet been called upon to do.  It was not necessary to acquaint Wilson Moore with the deeper and more subtle motives that had begun to actuate him.  It would not utterly break the cowboy’s spirit to live in suspense.  Columbine was safe for the present.  He had insured her against fatality.  Time was all he needed.  Possibility of an actual consummation of her marriage to Jack Belllounds did not lodge for an instant in Wade’s consciousness.  In Moore’s case, however, the present moment seemed critical.  What should he tell Moore—­what should he conceal from him?

“Son, come in here,” he called to the cowboy.

“Pard, it looks—­bad!” said Moore, brokenly.

Wade looked at the tragic face and cursed under his breath.

“Buck up!  It’s never as bad as it looks.  Anyway, we know now what to expect, an’ that’s well.”

Moore shook his head.  “Couldn’t you see how like steel Collie was?...  But I’m on to you, Wade.  You think by persuading Collie to put that marriage off that we’ll gain time.  You’re gambling with time.  You swear Buster Jack will hang himself.  You won’t quit fighting this deal.”

“Buster Jack has slung the noose over a tree, an’ he’s about ready to slip his head into it,” replied Wade.

“Bah!...  You drive me wild,” cried Moore, passionately.  “How can you?  Where’s all that feeling you seemed to have for me?  You nursed me—­you saved my leg—­and my life.  You must have cared about me.  But now—­you talk about that dolt—­that spoiled old man’s pet—­that damned cur, as if you believed he’d ruin himself.  No such luck! no such hope!...  Every day things grow worse.  Yet the worse they grow the stronger you seem!  It’s all out of proportion.  It’s dreams.  Wade, I hate to say it, but I’m sure you’re not always—­just right in your mind.”