"Yes, I guess it is," replied Columbine, smiling.
"Humph! I'm no relative of yours or even a particular, close friend, but I'd like to say--"
"Please don't," interposed Columbine.
"All right, my girl. I guess it's better I don't say anythin'. It's a pity, though, onless you love this Buster Jack. An' you never used to do that, I'll swan."
"No, I don't love Jack--yet--as I ought to love a husband. But I'll try, and if--if I--I never do--still, it's my duty to marry him."
"Some woman ought to talk to Bill Belllounds," declared Mrs. Andrews with a grimness that boded ill for the old rancher.
"Did you know we had a new man up at the ranch?" asked Columbine, changing the subject.
"You mean the hunter, Hell-Bent Wade?"
"Yes. But I hate that ridiculous name," said Columbine.
"It's queer, like lots of names men get in these parts. An' it'll stick. Wade's been here twice; once as he was passin' with the hounds, an' the other night. I like him, Columbine. He's true-blue, for all his strange name. My men-folks took to him like ducks to water."