Peak, with the tracks of the
stolen cattle. An' no _other_ tracks, Miss Columbine!"

"Who put you on that trail?" she asked, piercingly.

"Jack, hyar. He found it fust, an' rode to Kremmlin' fer me."

"Jack! Jack Belllounds!" she cried, bursting into wild and furious
laughter. Like a tigress she leaped at Jack as if to tear him to pieces.
"You put the sheriff on that trail! You accuse Wilson Moore of stealing
dad's cattle!"

"Yes, and I proved it," replied Jack, hoarsely.

"You! _You_ proved it? So that's your revenge?... But you're to reckon
with me, Jack Belllounds! You villain! You devil! You--" Suddenly she
shrank back with a strong shudder. She gasped. Her face grew ghastly
white. "_Oh, my God!_ ... horrible--unspeakable!"... She covered her
face with her hands, and every muscle of her seemed to contract until
she was stiff. Then her hands shot out to Moore.

"Wilson Moore, what have _you_ to say--to this sheriff--to Jack
Belllounds--to _me?_"

Moore bent upon her a gaze that must have pierced her soul, so like it
was to a lightning flash of love and meaning and eloquence.

"Collie, they've got the proof. I'll take my medicine.... Your dad is
good. He'll be easy on me!'

"_You lie!_" she whispered. "And I will tell why you lie!"

Moore did not show the shame and guilt that should have been natural
with his confession. But he showed an agony of distress. His hand sought
Wade and dragged at him.

It did not need this mute appeal to tell Wade that in another moment
Columbine would have flung the shameful truth into the face of Jack
Belllounds. She was rising to that. She was terrible and beautiful
to see.

"Collie," said Wade, with that voice he knew had strange power over her,
with a clasp of her outflung hand, "no more! This is a man's game. It's
not for a woman to judge. Not here! It's Wils's game--an' it's _mine_.
I'm his friend. Whatever his trouble or guilt, I take it on my
shoulders. An' it will be as if it were not!"

Moaning and wringing her hands, Columbine staggered with the burden of
the struggle in her.

"I'm quite--quite mad--or dreaming. Oh, Ben!" she cried.

"Brace up, Collie. It's sure hard. Wils, your friend and playmate so
many years--it's hard to believe! We all understand, Collie. Now you go
in, an' don't listen to any more or look any more."

He led her down the porch to the door of her room, and as he pushed it
open he whispered, "I will save you, Collie, an' Wils, an' the ol