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.

Jim led the mustang out of the corral and Lem followed. It looked as if
they wanted to avoid the young man, but he prevented that.

"Howdy, boys! I'm Jack Belllounds," he said, rather loftily. But his
manner was nonchalant. He did not offer to shake hands.

Jim mumbled something, and Lem said, "Hod do."

"That's an ornery--looking bronc," went on Belllounds, and he reached
with careless hand for the mustang. Whang jerked so hard that he pulled
Jim half over.

"Wal, he ain't a bronc, but I reckon he's all the rest." drawled Jim.

Both cowboys seemed slow, careless. They were neither indifferent nor
responsive. Columbine saw their keen, steady glances go over Belllounds.
Then she took a second and less hasty look at him. He wore high-heeled,
fancy-topped boots, tight-fitting trousers of dark material, a heavy
belt with silver buckle, and a white, soft shirt, with wide collar, open
at the neck. He was bareheaded.

"I'm going to run White Slides," he said to the cowboys. "What're your
names?"

Columbine wanted to giggle, which impulse she smothered. The idea of any
one asking Jim his name! She had never been able to find out.

"My handle is Lemuel Archibawld Billings," replied Lem, blandly. The
middle name was an addition no one had ever heard.

Belllounds then directed his glance and steps toward the girl. The
cowboys dropped their heads and shuffled on their way.

"There's only one girl on the ranch," said Belllounds, "so you must be
Columbine."

"Yes. And you're Jack," she replied, and slipped off the fence. "I'm
glad to welcome you home."

She offered her hand, and he held it until she extricated it. There was
gen