"Maybe I won't have to," replied Wade, mournfully. He paused, breathing heavily. The sober calm was gone.
Belllounds lowered the half-raised gun, instantly answering to the strange break in Wade's strained dominance.
"Don't tell me--any more! I'll not listen!... I won't fight! Wade, you're crazy! Let me off an' I swear--"
"Buster, I told Collie you were three years in jail!" suddenly interrupted Wade.
A mortal blow dealt Belllounds would not have caused such a shock of amaze, of torture. The secret of the punishment meted out to him by his father! The hideous thing which, instead of reforming, had ruined him! All of hell was expressed in his burning eyes.
"Ahuh!... I've known it long!" cried Wade, tragically. "Buster Jack, you're the man who must hear my story.... I'll tell you...."
In the aspen grove up the slope of Sage Valley Columbine and Wilson were sitting on a log. Whatever had been their discourse, it had left Moore with head bowed in his hands, and with Columbine staring with sad eyes that did not see what they looked at. Columbine's mind then seemed a dull blank. Suddenly she started.
"Wils!" she cried. "Did you hear--anything?"
"No," he replied, wearily raising his head.