“Miss Collie, thar’s been—­turrible fight!” he panted.

“Oh, Lem!...  I know.  It was Ben—­and Jack,” she cried.

“Shore.  Your hunch’s correct.  An’ it couldn’t be no wuss!”

Columbine tried to see his face, the meaning that must have accompanied his hoarse voice; but she seemed going blind.

“Then—­then—­” she whispered, reaching out for Lem.

“Hyar, Miss Collie,” he said, in great concern, as he took kind and gentle hold of her.  “Reckon you’d better wait.  Let me take you home.”

“Yes.  But tell—­tell me first,” she cried, frantically.  She could not bear suspense, and she felt her senses slipping away from her.

“My Gawd! who’d ever have thought such hell would come to White Slides!” exclaimed Lem, with strong emotion.  “Miss Collie, I’m powerful sorry fer you.  But mebbe it’s best so....  They’re both dead!...  Wade just died with his head on Wils’s lap.  But Jack never knowed what hit him.  He was shot plumb center—­both his eyes shot out!...  Wade was shot low down....  Montana an’ me agreed thet Jack throwed his gun first an’ Wade killed him after bein’ mortal shot himself.”

* * * * *

Late that afternoon, as Columbine lay upon her bed, the strange stillness of the house was disturbed by a heavy tread.  It passed out of the living-room and came down the porch toward her door.  Then followed a knock.

“Dad!” she called, swiftly rising.

Belllounds entered, leaving the door ajar.  The sunlight streamed in.

“Wal, Collie, I see you’re bracin’ up,” he said.

“Oh yes, dad, I’m—­I’m all right,” she replied, eager to help or comfort him.

The old rancher seemed different from the man of the past months.  The pallor of a great shock, the havoc of spent passion, the agony of terrible hours, showed in his face.  But Old Bill Belllounds had come into his own again—­back to the calm, iron pioneer who had lived all events, over whom storm of years had broken, whose great spirit had accepted this crowning catastrophe as it had all the others, who saw his own life clearly, now that its bitterest lesson was told.

“Are you strong enough to bear another shock, my lass, an’ bear it now—­so to make an end—­so to-morrer we can begin anew?” he asked, with the voice she had not heard for many a day.  It was the voice that told of consideration for her.

“Yes, dad,” she replied, going to him.

“Wal, come with me.  I want you to see Wade.”

He led her out upon the porch, and thence into the living-room, and from there into the room where lay the two dead men, one on each side.  Blankets covered the prone, quiet forms.

Columbine had meant to beg to see Wade once before he was laid away forever.  She dreaded the ordeal, yet strangely longed for it.  And here she was self-contained, ready for some nameless shock and uplift, which she divined was coming as she had divined the change in Belllounds.