r life, for meat, for the wildness that was
passing; the coyotes yelped at sunset, joyous and sharp and impudent.

But winter yielded reluctantly its hold on the mountains. The black,
scudding clouds, and the squalls of rain and sleet and snow, whitening
and melting and vanishing, and the cold, clear nights, with crackling
frost, all retarded the work of the warming sun. The day came, however,
when the greens held their own with the grays; and this was the
assurance of nature that spring could not be denied, and that summer
would follow.

* * * * *

Bent Wade was hiding in the willows along the trail that followed one of
the brooks. Of late, on several mornings, he had skulked like an Indian
under cover, watching for some one. On this morning, when Columbine
Belllounds came riding along, he stepped out into the trail in front
of her.

"Oh, Ben! you startled me!" she exclaimed, as she held hard on the
frightened horse.

"Good mornin', Collie," replied Wade. "I'm sorry to scare you, but I'm
particular anxious to see you. An' considerin' how you avoid me these
days, I had to waylay you in regular road-agent style."

Wade gazed up searchingly at her. It had been some time since he had
been given the privilege and pleasure of seeing her close at hand. He
needed only one look at her to confirm his fears. The pale, sweet,
resolute face told him much.

"Well, now you've waylaid me, what do you want?" she queried,
deliberately.

"I'm goin' to take you to see Wils Moore," replied Wade, watching her
closely.

"No!" she cried, with the red staining her temples.

"Collie, see here. Did I ever oppose anythin' you wanted to do?"

"Not--yet," she said.

"I reckon you expect me to?"

She did not answer that. Her eyes drooped, and she nervously twisted the
bridle reins.

"Do you doubt my--my good intentions toward you--my love for you?" he
asked, in gentle and husky voice.

"Oh, Ben! No! No! It's that I'm afraid of your love for me! I can't
bear--what I have to bear--if I see you, if I listen to you."

"Then you've weakened? You're no proud, high-strung, thoroughbred girl
any more? You're showin' yellow?"

"Ben Wade, I deny that," she answered, spiritedly, with an uplift of her
head. "It's not weakness, but strength I've found."

"Ahuh! Well, I reckon I understand. Collie, listen. Wils let me read
your last letter to him."

"I expected that. I think I told him to. Anyway, I wanted