come off? I seen Wils the other day. Was up
to his homestead. An' the boy jest manages to rustle round on a crutch.
He couldn't fight."

"That was just it. Jack saw his opportunity, and he forced Wilson to
fight--accused him of stealing. Wils tried to avoid trouble. Then Jack
jumped him. Wilson fought and held his own until Jack began to kick his
injured foot. Then Wilson fainted and--and Jack beat him."

Lem dropped his head, evidently to hide his expression. "Wal, dog-gone
me!" he ejaculated. "Thet's too bad."

Columbine left the cowboy and rode up the lane toward Wade's cabin. She
did not analyze her deliberate desire to tell the truth about that
fight, but she would have liked to proclaim it to the whole range and to
the world. Once clear of the house she felt free, unburdened, and to
talk seemed to relieve some congestion of her thoughts.

The hounds heralded Columbine's approach with a deep and booming chorus.
Sampson and Jim lay upon the porch, unleashed. The other hounds were
chained separately in the aspen grove a few rods distant. Sampson
thumped the boards with his big tail, but he did not get up, which
laziness attested to the fact that there had been a lion chase the day
before and he was weary and stiff. If Wade had been at home he would
have come out to see what had occasioned the clamor. As Columbine rode
by she saw another fresh lion-pelt pegged upon the wall of the cabin.

She followed the brook. It had cleared since the rains and was shining
and sparkling in the rough, swift places, and limpid and green in the
eddies. She passed the dam made by the solitary beaver that inhabited
the valley. Freshly cut willows showed how the beaver was preparing for
the long winter ahead. Columbine remembered then how greatly pleased
Wade had been to learn about this old beaver; and more than once Wade
had talked about trapping some younger beavers and bringing them there
to make company for the old fellow.

The trail led across the brook at a wide, shallow place, where the
splashing made by Pronto sent the trout scurrying for deeper water.
Columbine kept to that trail, knowing that it led up into Sage Valley,
where Wilson Moore had taken up the homestead property. Fresh horse
tracks told her that Wade had ridden along there some time earlier.
Pronto shied at the whirring of sage-hens. Presently Columbine
ascertained they were flushed by the hound Kane, that had broken loose
and followed her. He had done so bef