"You saved--Pronto," she returned, with a strong tremor in her voice. "I can't thank you enough."
"That was a funny thing. Pronto went out of his head. I hope he's all right."
"He's almost well. It took some time to pick all the splinters out of him. He'll be all right soon--none the worse for that--that cowboy trick of Mister Jack Belllounds."
Columbine finished bitterly. Moore turned his thoughtful gaze away from her.
"I hope Old Bill is well," he remarked, lamely.
"Have you told your folks of your accident?" asked Columbine, ignoring his remark.
"No."
"Oh, Wilson, you ought to have sent for them, or have written at least."
"Me? To go crying for them when I got in trouble? I couldn't see it that way."
"Wilson, you'll be going--home--soon--to Denver--won't you?" she faltered.