"Good-by, Columbine," he called out after her, with farewell, indeed, in his voice.
All the way home Columbine was occupied with feelings that swayed her to the exclusion of rational consideration of the increasing perplexity of her situation. And to make matters worse, when she arrived at the ranch it was to meet Jack Belllounds with a face as black as a thunder-cloud.
"The old man wants to see you," he announced, with an accent that recalled his threat of a few hours back.
"Does he?" queried Columbine, loftily. "From the courteous way you speak I imagine it's important."
Belllounds did not deign to reply to this. He sat on the porch, where evidently he had awaited her return, and he looked anything but happy.
"Where is dad?" continued Columbine.
Jack motioned toward the second door, beyond which he sat, the one that opened into the room the rancher used as a kind of office and storeroom. As Columbine walked by Jack he grasped her skirt.
"Columbine! you're angry?" he said, appealingly.
"I reckon I am," replied Columbine.
"Don't go in to dad when you're that way," implored Jack. "He's angry, too--and--and--it'll only make matters worse."