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"Miss Collie, I'm a sort of doctor in my way. I studied some medicine an' surgery. An' I know. I wouldn't tell you this if it wasn't that I've got to rely on you to help me." "I will but go on tell me," interposed Columbine trying to fortify herself. "Wils's foot is all messed up. Buster Jack kicked it all out of shape. An' it's a hundred times worse than ever.
Her knowledge of the range told her that Lem had narrated nothing so far which could have been cause for his cold, grim, evasive manner; and her woman's intuition divined a catastrophe. "Nope.... Wils's hoss fell on him." Lem broke that final news with all a cowboy's bluntness. "Was he hurt Lem!" cried Columbine. "Say, Miss Collie," remonstrated Lem, "we're doctorin' up your hoss.
An' he was as big in his hope fer the good as he was terrible in his dealin' with the bad. I never saw his like.... He loved you, Collie, better than you ever knew. Better than Jack, or Wils, or me! You know what the Bible says about him who gives his life fer his friend. Wal, Wade was my friend, an' Jack's, only we never could see!... An' he was Wils's friend.
Plummer fixed up his foot. She made a good job of it, too, as I can testify." "Oh, I'm very thankful!" murmured Columbine. "He'll not be crippled or or club-footed, then?" "I reckon not. You can see for yourself. For Wils's here. He was drove up night before last an' is stayin' with my brother-in-law in the other cabin there." Mrs.
"Well, mam an' the gals made Wils's weddin' cloze," said Nate reflectively. "He had his own sheep, which he sheared in the Spring. They'uns carded, spun, dyed, an' wove the wool themselves, an' made him the purtiest suit o' cloze ever seed on the mountings." "Your mother and sisters goin' to make your weddin' suit, Si?" asked Shorty. "What'd he have to pay for the license?" "License?
"Sure," went on the deliberate voice, ringing with scorn. "An' only a little while ago she called you a dog.... I reckon she meant a different kind of a dog than the hounds over there. For to say they were like you would be an insult to them.... Sure she hates you, an' I'll gamble right now she's got her arms around Wils's neck!" " !" hissed Belllounds.
"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!"
"Lass, I'm askin' you not to tell Belllounds that I'm carin' for Wils," he said, in his gentle, persuasive way. "I won't. But why not tell dad? He wouldn't mind. He'd do that sort of thing himself." "Reckon he would. But this deal's out of the ordinary. An' Wils's not in as good shape as he thinks. I'm not takin' any chances.
She could not bear suspense, and she felt her senses slipping away from her. "My Gawd! who'd ever have thought such hell would come to White Slides!" exclaimed Lem, with strong emotion. "Miss Collie, I'm powerful sorry fer you. But mebbe it's best so.... They're both dead!... Wade just died with his head on Wils's lap. But Jack never knowed what hit him.
"Well, I'll be damned!" ejaculated Wade. "I call that mighty cunnin'. Here they are proofs as plain as writin' that Wils Moore rustled Old Bill's cattle!... Buster Jack, you're not such a fool as I thought.... He's made somethin' like the end of Wils's crutch. An' knowin' how Wils uses that every time he gets off his horse, why, the dirty pup carried his instrument with him an' made these tracks!"
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