“I’m that way, too,” replied Wade.  “But it doesn’t pay, an’ yet I still kept on bein’ that way....  Belllounds, my name’s as bad as good all over western Colorado.  But as man to man I tell you—­I never did a low-down trick in my life....  Never but once.”

“An’ what was thet?” queried the rancher, gruffly.

“I killed a man who was innocent,” replied Wade, with quivering lips, “an’—­an’ drove the woman I loved to her death.”

“Aw! we all make mistakes some time in our lives,” said Belllounds, hurriedly.  “I made ’most as big a one as yours—­so help me God!...”

“I’ll tell you—­” interrupted Wade.

“You needn’t tell me anythin’,” said Belllounds, interrupting in his turn.  “But at thet some time I’d like to hear about the Lascelles outfit over on the Gunnison.  I knowed Lascelles.  An’ a pardner of mine down in Middle Park came back from the Gunnison with the dog-gondest story I ever heerd.  Thet was five years ago this summer.  Of course I knowed your name long before, but this time I heerd it powerful strong.  You got in thet mix-up to your neck....  Wal, what consarns me now is this.  Is there any sense in the talk thet wherever you land there’s hell to pay?”

“Belllounds, there’s no sense in it, but a lot of truth,” confessed Wade, gloomily.

“Ahuh!...  Wal, Hell-Bent Wade, I’ll take a chance on you,” boomed the rancher’s deep voice, rich with the intent of his big heart.  “I’ve gambled all my life.  An’ the best friends I ever made were men I’d helped....  What wages do you ask?”

“I’ll take what you offer.”

“I’m payin’ the boys forty a month, but thet’s not enough fer you.”

“Yes, that’ll do.”

“Good, it’s settled,” concluded Belllounds, rising.  Then he saw his son standing inside the door.  “Say, Jack, shake hands with Bent Wade, hunter an’ all-around man.  Wade, this’s my boy.  I’ve jest put him on as foreman of the outfit, an’ while I’m at it I’ll say thet you’ll take orders from me an’ not from him.”

Wade looked up into the face of Jack Belllounds, returned his brief greeting, and shook his limp hand.  The contact sent a strange chill over Wade.  Young Belllounds’s face was marred by a bruise and shaded by a sullen light.

“Get Billin’s to take you out to thet new cabin an’ sheds I jest had put up,” said the rancher.  “You’ll bunk in the cabin....  Aw, I know.  Men like you sleep in the open.  But you can’t do thet under Old White Slides in winter.  Not much!  Make yourself to home, an’ I’ll walk out after a bit an’ we’ll look over the dog outfit.  When you see thet outfit you’ll holler fer help.”

Wade bowed his thanks, and, putting on his sombrero, he turned away.  As he did so he caught a sound of light, quick footsteps on the far end of the porch.

“Hello, you-all!” cried a girl’s voice, with melody in it that vibrated piercingly upon Wade’s sensitive ears.