"Won't it change you to know that if you force this marriage you'll lose all?"
"All! Ain't that more queer talk?"
"I mean lose all--your son, your adopted daughter--his chance of reformin', her hope of happiness. These ought to be all in life left to you."
"Wal, they are. But I can't see your argument. You're beyond me, Wade. You're holdin' back, like you did with your hell-bent story."
Ponderously, as if the burden and the doom of the world weighed him down, the hunter got up and fronted Belllounds.
"When I'm driven to tell I'll come.... But, once more, old man, choose between generosity an' selfishness. Between blood tie an' noble loyalty to your good deed in its beginnin'.... Will you give up this marriage for your son--so that Collie can have the man she loves?"
"You mean your young pard an' two-bit of a rustler--Wils Moore?"
"Wils Moore, yes. My friend, an' a man, Belllounds, such as you or I never was."
"No!" thundered the rancher, purple in the face.
With bowed head and dragging step Wade left the room.