watched the rest of that fight, an’ for a youngster it must have been nerve-rackin’.  I broke the rustler’s arm, an’ then his knee, an’ then I got him in the hip two more times before he hobbled out to his finish.  He’d shot me up considerable, so that when I braced Jack I must have been a hair-raisin’ sight.  I made Jack believe I meant to murder him.  He begged an’ cried, an’ he got to prayin’ for his life for your sake.  It was sickenin’, but it was what I wanted.  So then I made him swear he’d free you an’ give you up to Moore.”

“Oh!  Oh, Ben, how awful!” whispered Columbine, shuddering.  “How could you tell me such a horrible story?”

“Reckon I wanted you to know how Jack come to make the promises an’ what they were.”

“Promises!  What are promises or oaths to Jack Belllounds?” she cried, in passionate contempt.  “You wasted your breath.  Coward—­liar that he is!”

“Ahuh!” Wade looked straight ahead of him as if he saw some expected and unpleasant thing far in the distance.  Then with irresistible steps, neither swift nor slow, but ponderous, he strode to the porch and mounted the steps.

“Why, Ben, where are you going?” called Columbine, in surprise, as she followed him.

He did not answer.  He approached the closed door of the living-room.

“Ben!” cried Columbine, in alarm.

But he had no reply for her—­indeed, no thought of her.  Without knocking, he opened the door with rude and powerful hand, and, striding in, closed it after him.

Bill Belllounds was standing, back against the great stone chimney, arms folded, a stolid and grim figure, apparently fortified against an intrusion he had expected.

“Wal, what do you want?” he asked, gruffly.  He had sensed catastrophe in the first sight of the hunter.

“Belllounds, I reckon I want a hell of a lot,” replied Wade.  “An’ I’m askin’ you to see we’re not disturbed.”

“Bar the door.”

Wade dropped the bar in place, and then, removing his sombrero, he wiped his moist brow.

“Do you see an enemy in me?” he asked, curiously.

“Speakin’ out fair, Wade, there ain’t any reason I can see that you’re an enemy to me,” replied Belllounds.  “But I feel somethin’.  It ain’t because I’m takin’ my son’s side.  It’s more than that.  A queer feelin’, an’ one I never had before.  I got it first when you told the story of the Gunnison feud.”

“Belllounds, we can’t escape our fates.  An’ it was written long ago I was to tell you a worse an’ harder story than that.”

“Wal, mebbe I’ll listen an’ mebbe I won’t.  I ain’t promisin’, these days.”

“Are you goin’ to make Collie marry Jack?” demanded the hunter.

“She’s willin’.”

“You know that’s not true.  Collie’s willin’ to sacrifice love, honor, an’ life itself, to square her debt to you.”

The old rancher flushed a burning red, and in his eyes flared a spirit of earlier years.