to tricks of most pretty lasses, makin' eyes at all the men. Anyway, a
matter of three months ago I told Wils to keep away from you--thet you
were not fer any poor cowpuncher."

"You never liked him. Why? Was it fair, taking him as boys come?"

"Wal, I reckon it wasn't," replied Belllounds, and as he looked up his
broad face changed to ruddy color. "Thet boy's the best rider an' roper
I've had in years. He ain't the bronco-bustin' kind. He never drank. He
was honest an' willin'. He saves his money. He's good at handlin' stock.
Thet boy will be a rich rancher some day."

"Strange, then, you never liked him," murmured Columbine. She felt
ashamed of the good it did her to hear Wilson praised.

"No, it ain't strange. I have my own reasons," replied Belllounds,
gruffly, as he resumed eating.

Columbine believed she could guess the cause of the old rancher's
unreasonable antipathy for this cowboy. Not improbably it was because
Wilson had always been superior in every way to Jack Belllounds. The
boys had been natural rivals in everything pertaining to life on the
range. What Bill Belllounds admired most in men was paramount in Wilson
and lacking in his own son.

"Will you put Jack in charge of your ranches, now?" asked Columbine.

"Not much. I reckon I'll try him hyar at White Slides as foreman. An' if
he runs the outfit, then I'll see."