thought now flashed over Columbine. It lay in what Wilson Moore might
think of her prospective marriage to Jack Belllounds. Still she could
not guess why that should make her feel strangely uncertain of the
ground she stood on or how it could cause a constraint she had to fight
herself to hide. Moreover, to her annoyance, she found that she was
evading his direct request for the news she had withheld.

"Jack Belllounds is coming home to-night or to-morrow," she said. Then,
waiting for her companion to reply, she kept an unseeing gaze upon the
scanty pines fringing Old White Slides. But no reply appeared to be
forthcoming from Moore. His silence compelled her to turn to him. The
cowboy's face had subtly altered; it was darker with a tinge of red
under the bronze; and his lower lip was released from his teeth, even
as she looked. He had his eyes intent upon the lasso he was coiling.
Suddenly he faced her and the dark fire of his eyes gave her a shock.

I've been expecting that shorthorn back for months." he said, bluntly.

"You--never--liked Jack?" queried Columbine, slowly. That was not what
she wanted to say, but the thought spoke itself.

"I should smile I never did."

"Ever since you and he fought--long ago--all over--"

His sharp gesture made the coiled lasso loosen.

"Ever since I licked him good--don't forget that," interrupted Wilson.
The red had faded from the bronze.