They took seats at the table which the cook, Jake, was loading with
steaming victuals. Supper appeared to be a rather sumptuous one this
evening, in honor of the expected guest, who had not come. Columbine
helped the old man to his favorite dishes, stealing furtive glances at
his lined and shadowed face. She sensed a subtle change in him since the
afternoon, but could not see any sign of it in his look or demeanor. His
appetite was as hearty as ever.

"So you met Wils. Is he still makin' up to you?" asked Belllounds,
presently.

"No, he isn't. I don't see that he ever did--that--dad," she replied.

"You're a kid in mind an' a woman in body. Thet cowpuncher has been
lovesick over you since you were a little girl. It's what kept him hyar
ridin' fer me."

"Dad, I don't believe it," said Columbine, feeling the blood at her
temples. "You always imagined such things about Wilson, and the other
boys as well."

"Ahuh! I'm an old fool about wimmen, hey? Mebbe I was years ago. But I
can see now.... Didn't Wils always get ory-eyed when any of the other
boys shined up to you?"

"I can't remember that he did," replied Columbine. She felt a desire to
laugh, yet the subject was anything but amusing to her.

"Wal, you've always been innocent-like. Thank the Lord you never leaned