been done to them. There was something almost human in that look. It
expressed intelligence and fear and fury.

The cowboys released his legs and let him get up. Whang stamped his
iron-shod hoofs.

"It was a mean trick, Whang," said Columbine. "If I owned you that'd
never be done to you."

"I reckon you can have him fer the askin'," said Jim, as he threw on the
saddle. "Nobody but me can ride him. Do you want to try?"

"Not in these clothes," replied Columbine, laughing.

"Wal, Miss Collie, you're shore dressed up fine to-day, fer some reason
or other," said Lem, shaking his head, while he gathered up the tools
from the ground.

"Ahuh! An' here comes the reason," exclaimed Jim, in low, hoarse
whisper.

Columbine heard the whisper and at the same instant a sharp footfall on
the gravel road. She quickly turned, almost losing her balance. And she
recognized Jack Belllounds. The boy Buster Jack she remembered so well
was approaching, now a young man, taller, heavier, older, with paler
face and bolder look. Columbine had feared this meeting, had prepared
herself for it. But all she felt when it came was annoyance at the fact
that he had caught her sitting on top of the corral fence, with little
regard for dignity. It did not occur to her to jump down. She merely sat
straight, smoothed down her skirt, and waited.