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the old man he made up to Collie harder than ever. She didn't tell me
then, but I saw it. An' she couldn't avoid him, except by stayin' in her
room, which she did a good deal. Then Jack showed a streak of bein'
decent. He surprised everybody, even Collie. He delighted Old Bill. But
he didn't pull the wool over my eyes. He was like a boy spoilin' for a
new toy, an' he got crazy over Collie. He's sure terribly in love with
her, an' for days he behaved himself in a way calculated to make up for
his drinkin' too much. It shows he can behave himself when he wants to.
I mean he can control his temper an' impulse. Anyway, he made himself so
good that Old Bill changed his mind, after what he swore that day, an'
set another day for the weddin'. Right off, then, Collie goes down on
her back.... They didn't send for me very soon. But when I did get to
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see her, an' felt the way she grabbed me--as if she was drownin'--then I
knew what ailed her. It was love."
"Love!" gasped Moore, breathlessly.
"Sure. Jest love for a dog-gone lucky cowboy named Wils Moore!... Her
heart was breakin', an' she'd have died but for me! Don't imagine, Wils,
that people can't die of broken hearts. They do. I know. Well, all
Collie needed was me, an' I cured her ravin' and made her eat, an' now
she's comin' along fine."
"Wade, I've believed in Heaven since you came down to White Slides,"
burst out Moore, with shining eyes. "But tell me--what did you
tell her?"
"Well, my particular medicine first off was to whisper in her ear that
she'd never have to marry Jack Belllounds. An' after that I gave her
daily doses of talk about you."
"Pard! She loves me--still?" he whispered.
"Wils, hers is the kind that grows stronger with time. I know."
Moore strained in his intensity of emotion, and he clenched his fists
and gritted his teeth.
"Oh God! this's hard on me!" he cried. "I'm a man. I love that girl more
than life. And to know she's suffering for love of me--for fear of that
marriage being forced upon her--to know that while I lie here a helpless
cripple--it's almost unbearable."
"Boy, you've got to mend now. We've the best of hope now--for you--for
her--for everythin'."
"Wade, I think I love you, too," said the cowboy. "You're saving me from
madness. Somehow I have faith in you--to do whatever you want. But how
could you tell Collie she'd never have to marry Buster Jack?"
"Because I know she never will," replied Wade, with his slow, gentle
smile.
"You _know_ that?"
"Sure."
"How on earth can you prevent it? Belllounds will never give up
planning that marriage for his son. Jack will nag Collie till she can't
call her soul her own. Between them they will wear her down. My friend,
_how_ can you prevent it?"
"Wils, fact is, I haven't reckoned out how I'm goin' to save Collie. But
that's no matter. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. I will do
it. You can gamble on me, Wils. You must use that hope an' faith to help
you get well. For we mustn't forget that you're in more danger
than Collie."
"I _will_ gamble on you--my life--my very soul," replied Moore,
fervently. "By Heaven! I'll be the man I might have been. I'll rise out
of despair. I'll even reconcile myself to being a cripple."
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"An', Wils, will you rise above hate?" asked Wade, softly.
"Hate! Hate of whom?"
"Jack Belllounds."
The cowboy stared, and his lean, pale face contracted.
"Pard, you wouldn't--you couldn't expect me to--to forgive him?"
"No. I reckon not. But you needn't hate him. I don't. An' I reckon I've
some reason, more than you could guess.... Wils, hate is a poison in the
blood. It's worse for him who feels it than for him against whom it
rages. I know.... Well, if you put thought of Jack out of your
mind--quit broodin' over what he did to you--an' realize that he's not
to blame, you'll overcome your hate. For the son of Old Bill is to be
pitied. Yes, Jack Belllounds needs pity. He was ruined before he was
born. He never should have been born. An' I want you to understand that,
an' stop hatin' him. Will you try?"
"Wade, you're afraid I'll kill him?" whispered Moore.
"Sure. That's it. I'm afraid you might. An' consider how hard that
would be for Columbine. She an' Jack were raised sister an' brother,
almost. It would be hard on her. You see, Collie has a strange an'
powerful sense of duty to Old Bill. If you killed Jack it would likely
kill the old man, an' Collie would suffer all her life. You couldn't
cure her of that. You want her to be happy."
"I do--I do. Wade, I swear I'll never kill Buster Jack. And for Collie's
sake I'll try not to hate him."
"Well, that's fine. I'm sure glad to hear you promise that. Now I'll go
out an' chop some wood. We mustn't let the fire go out any more."
"Pard, I'll write another note--a letter to Collie. Hand me the
blank-book there. And my pencil.... And don't hurry with the wood."
Wade went outdoors with his two-bladed ax and shovel. The wood-pile was
a great mound of snow. He cleaned a wide space and a path to the side of
the cabin. Working in snow was not unpleasant for him. He liked the
cleanness, the whiteness, the absolute purity of new-fallen snow. The
air was crisp and nipping, the frost crackled under his feet, the smoke
from his pipe seemed no thicker than the steam from his breath, the ax
rang on the hard aspens. Wade swung this implement like a born woodsman.
The chips flew and the dead wood smelled sweet. Some logs he chopped
into three-foot pieces; others he chopped and split. When he tired a
little of swinging the ax he carried the cut pieces to the cabin and
stacked them near the door. Now and then he would halt a moment to gaze
away across the whitened slopes and rolling hills. The sense of his
physical power matched something within, and his heart warmed with more
than the vigorous exercise.
When he had worked thus for about two hours and had stacked a pile of
wood almost as large as the cabin he considered it sufficient for the
day. So he went indoors. Moore was so busily and earnestly writing that
he did not hear Wade come in. His face wore an eloquent glow.
"Say, Wils, are you writin' a book?" he inquired.
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"Hello! Sure I am. But I'm 'most done now.... If Columbine doesn't
answer _this_ ..."
"By the way, I'll have two letters to give her, then--for I never gave
her the first one," replied Wade.
"You son-of-a-gun!"
"Well, hurry along, boy. I'll be goin' now. Here's a pole I've fetched
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