“Wade, you can go too far,” he warned.  “I’m appreciatin’ your good-heartedness.  It sort of warms me toward you....  But this is my business.  You’ve no call to interfere.  You’ve done that too much already.  An’ I’m reckonin’ Collie would be married to Jack now if it hadn’t been for you.”

“Ahuh!...  That’s why I’m thankin’ God I happened along to White Slides.  Belllounds, your big mistake is thinkin’ your son is good enough for this girl.  An’ you’re makin’ mistakes about me.  I’ve interfered here, an’ you may take my word for it I had the right.”

“Strange talk, Wade, but I’ll make allowances.”

“You needn’t.  I’ll back my talk....  But, first, I’m askin’ you—­an’ if this talk hurts, I’m sorry—­why don’t you give some of your love for your no-good Buster Jack to Collie?”

Belllounds clenched his huge fists and glared.  Anger leaped within him.  He recognized in Wade an outspoken, bitter adversary to his cherished hopes for his son and his stubborn, precious pride.

“By Heaven!  Wade, I’ll—­”

“Belllounds, I can make you swallow that kind of talk,” interrupted Wade.  “It’s man to man now.  An’ I’m a match for you any day.  Savvy?...  Do you think I’m damn fool enough to come here an’ brace you unless I knew that.  Talk to me as you’d talk about some other man’s son.”

“It ain’t possible,” rejoined the rancher, stridently.

“Then listen to me first....  Your son Jack, to say the least, will ruin Collie.  Do you see that?”

“By Gawd!  I’m afraid so,” groaned Belllounds, big in his humiliation.  “But it’s my one last bet, an’ I’m goin’ to play it.”

“Do you know marryin’ him will kill her?”

“What!...  You’re overdoin’ your fears, Wade.  Women don’t die so easy.”

“Some of them die, an’ Collie’s one that will, if she ever marries Jack.”

“If!...  Wal, she’s goin’ to.”

“We don’t agree,” said Wade, curtly.

“Are you runnin’ my family?”

“No.  But I’m runnin’ a large-sized if in this game.  You’ll admit that presently....  Belllounds, you make me mad.  You don’t meet me man to man.  You’re not the Bill Belllounds of old.  Why, all over this state of Colorado you’re known as the whitest of the white.  Your name’s a byword for all that’s square an’ big an’ splendid.  But you’re so blinded by your worship of that wild boy that you’re another man in all pertainin’ to him.  I don’t want to harp on his short-comm’s.  I’m for the girl.  She doesn’t love him.  She can’t.  She will only drag herself down an’ die of a broken heart....  Now, I’m askin’ you, before it’s too late—­give up this marriage.”

“Wade!  I’ve shot men for less than you’ve said!” thundered the rancher, beside himself with rage and shame.

“Ahuh!  I reckon you have.  But not men like me....  I tell you, straight to your face, it’s a fool deal you’re workin’—­a damn selfish one—­a dirty job, to put on an innocent, sweet girl—­an’ as sure as you stand there, if you do it, you’ll ruin four lives!”