"Why, how wonderful!" exclaimed the girl, breathless and glowing with interest. "Oh, it seems a pity such a splendid brute should be killed. Wild animals are cruel. I wish it were different."
"Life is cruel, miss, an' I echo your wish," replied Wade, sadly.
"You have had great experiences. Dad said to me, 'Collie, here at last is a man who can tell you enough stories!'... But I don't believe you ever could."
"You like stories?" asked Wade, curiously.
"Love them. All kinds, but I like adventure best. I should have been a boy. Isn't it strange, I can't hurt anything myself or bear to see even a steer slaughtered? But you can't tell too bloody and terrible stories for me. Except I hate Indian stories. The very thought of Indians makes me shudder.... Some day I'll tell you a story."
Wade could not find his tongue readily.
"I must go now," she continued, and moved off the porch. Then she hesitated, and turned with a smile that was wistful and impulsive. "I--I believe we'll be good friends."
"Miss Columbine, we sure will, if I can live up to my part," replied Wade.
Her smile deepened, even while her gaze grew unconsciously penetrating. Wade felt how subtly they were drawn to each other. But she had no inkling of that.
"It takes two to make a bargain," she replied, seriously. "I've my part. Good-by."