“No.  I’m square.  You saw me play square with your rustler pard.  He was a lifelong enemy of mine.  An’ a gun-fighter to boot!...  Pull your gun an’ let drive.  I’ll take my chances.”

Buster Jack’s eyes dilated.  He gasped huskily.  He pulled his gun, but actually did not have strength or courage enough to raise it.  His arm shook so that the gun rattled against his chaps.

“No nerve, hey?  Not half a man!...  Buster Jack, why don’t you finish game?  Make up for your low-down tricks.  At the last try to be worthy of your dad.  In his day he was a real man....  Let him have the consolation that you faced Hell-Bent Wade an’ died in your boots!”

“I—­can’t—­fight you!” panted Belllounds.  “I know now!...  I saw you throw a gun!  It wouldn’t be fair!”

“But I’ll make you fight me,” returned Wade, in steely tones.  “I’m givin’ you a chance to dig up a little manhood.  Askin’ you to meet me man to man!  Handin’ you a little the best of it to make the odds even!...  Once more, will you be game?”

“Wade, I’ll not fight—­I’m going—­” replied Belllounds, and he moved as if to turn.

“Halt!...”  Wade leaped at the white Belllounds.  “If you run I’ll break a leg for you—­an’ then I’ll beat your miserable brains out!...  Have you no sense?  Can’t you recognize what’s comin’?... I’m goin’ to kill you, Buster Jack!”

“My God!” whispered the other, understanding fully at last.

“Here’s where you pay for your dirty work.  The time comes to every man.  You’ve a choice, not to live—­for you’ll never get away from Hell-Bent Wade—­but to rise above yourself at last.”

“But what for?  Why do you want to kill me?  I never harmed you.”

“Columbine is my daughter!” replied the hunter.

“Ah!” breathed Belllounds.

“She loves Wils Moore, who’s as white a man as you are black.”

Across the pallid, convulsed face of Belllounds spread a slow, dull crimson.

“Aha, Buster Jack!  I struck home there,” flashed Wade, his voice rising.  “That gives your eyes the ugly look....  I hate them lyin’, bulgin’ eyes of yours.  An’ when my time comes to shoot I’m goin’ to put them both out.”

“By Heaven!  Wade, you’ll have to kill me if you ever expect that club-foot Moore to get Collie!”

“He’ll get her,” replied Wade, triumphantly.  “Collie’s with him now.  I sent her.  I told her to tell Wils how you tried to force her—­”

Belllounds began to shake all over.  A torture of jealous hate and deadly terror convulsed him.

“Buster, did you ever think you’d get her kisses—­as Wils’s gettin’ right now?” queried the hunter.  “Good Lord! the conceit of some men!...  Why, you poor, weak-minded, cowardly pet of a blinded old man—­you conceited ass—­you selfish an’ spoiled boy!...  Collie never had any use for you.  An’ now she hates you.”

“It was you who made her!” yelled Belllounds, foaming at the mouth.