He paused, and, gently releasing Columbine, he went to Moore, and retied his loosened bandage, and spread out the disarranged blankets.  Then he sat down on the edge of the bed and bent over a little, running a roughened hand through the scant hair that had begun to silver upon his head.  Presently he looked up, and from that sallow face, with its lines and furrows, and from the deep, inscrutable eyes, there fell a light which, however sad and wise in its infinite understanding of pain and strife, was still ruthless and unquenchable in its hope.

“Wade, for God’s sake save Columbine!” importuned Wilson.

“Oh, if you only could!” cried Columbine, impelled beyond her power to resist by that prayer.

“Lass, you stand by your convictions,” he said, impressively.  “An’ Moore, you be a man an’ don’t make it so hard for her.  Neither of you can do anythin’....  Now there’s old Belllounds—­he’ll never change.  He might r’ar up for this or that, but he’ll never change his cherished hopes for his son....  But Jack might change!  Lookin’ back over all the years I remember many boys like this Buster Jack, an’ I remember how in the nature of their doin’s they just hanged themselves.  I’ve a queer foresight about people whose trouble I’ve made my own.  It’s somethin’ that never fails.  When their trouble’s goin’ to turn out bad then I feel a terrible yearnin’ to tell the story of Hell-Bent Wade.  That foresight of trouble gave me my name....  But it’s not operatin’ here....  An’ so, my young friends, you can believe me when I say somethin’ will happen.  As far as October first is concerned, or any time near, Collie isn’t goin’ to marry Jack Belllounds.”

CHAPTER X

One day Wade remarked to Belllounds:  “You can never tell what a dog is until you know him.  Dogs are like men.  Some of ’em look good, but they’re really bad.  An’ that works the other way round.  If a dog’s born to run wild an’ be a sheep-killer, that’s what he’ll be.  I’ve known dogs that loved men as no humans could have loved them.  It doesn’t make any difference to a dog if his master is a worthless scamp.”

“Wal, I reckon most of them hounds I bought had no good masters, judgin’ from the way they act,” replied the rancher.

“I’m developin’ a first-rate pack,” said Wade.  “Jim hasn’t any faults exceptin’ he doesn’t bay enough.  Sampson’s not as true-nosed as Jim, but he’ll follow Jim, an’ he has a deep, heavy bay you can hear for miles.  So that makes up for Jim’s one fault.  These two hounds hang together, an’ with them I’m developin’ others.  Denver will split off of bear or lion tracks when he jumps a deer.  I reckon he’s not young enough to be cured of that.  Some of the younger hounds are comin’ on fine.  But there’s two dogs in the bunch that beat me all hollow.”

“Which ones?” asked Belllounds.

“There’s that bloodhound, Kane,” replied the hunter.  “He’s sure a queer dog.  I can’t win him.  He minds me now because I licked him, an’ once good an’ hard when he bit me....  But he doesn’t cotton to me worth a damn.  He’s gettin’ fond of Miss Columbine, an’ I believe might make a good watch-dog for her.  Where’d he come from, Belllounds?”