Her hair was disheveled, her dress disordered, the hands she tremblingly held out bore discolored marks. Wade led her into the seclusion of the willow trail. "Oh, Ben!... He fought me--like--a beast!" she panted. "Collie, you needn't tell me more," said Wade, gently. "Go up to Wils. Tell him." "But I must tell you. I can bear--no more.... He fought me--hurt me--and when dad heard us--and came--Jack lied.... Oh, the dog!... Ben, his father believed--when Jack swore he was only mad--only trying to shake me--for my indifference and scorn.... But, my God!--Jack meant...." "Collie, go up to Wils," interposed the hunter. "I want to see Wils. I need to--I must. But I'm afraid.... Oh, it will make things worse!" "Go!" She turned away, actuated by more than her will. "_Collie!_" came the call, piercingly and strangely after her. Bewildered, startled by the wildness of that cry, she wheeled. But Wade was gone. The shaking of the willows attested to his hurry. * * * * * Old Belllounds braced his huge shoulders against the wall in the attitude of a man driven to his last stand. "Ahuh!" he rolled, sonorously. "So hyar you are again?... Wal, tell your worst, Hell-Bent Wade, an' let's have an end to your croakin'." Belllounds had fortified himself, not with convictions or with illusions, but with the last desperate courage of a man true to himself. "I'll tell you...." began the hunter. And the rancher threw up his hands in a mockery that was furious, yet with outward shrinking. "Just now, when Buster Jack fought with Collie, he meant bad by her!" "Aw, no!... He was jest rude--tryin' to be masterful.... An' the lass's like a wild filly. She needs a tamin' down." Wade stretched forth a lean and quivering hand that seemed the symbol of presaged and tragic truth. "Listen, Belllounds, an' I'll tell you.... No use tryin' to hatch a rotten egg! There's no good in your son. His good intentions he paraded for virtues, believin' himself that he'd changed. But a flip of the wind made him Buster Jack again.... Collie would sacrifice her life for duty to you--whom she loves as her father. Wils Moore sacrificed his honor for Collie--rather than let you learn the truth.... But they call me Hell-Bent Wade, an' I will tell you!" The straining hulk of Belllounds crouched lower, as if to gather impetus for a leap. Both huge hands were outspread as if to ward off attack from an unseen but long-dreaded foe. The great eyes rolled. And underneath the terror and certainty and tragedy of his appearance seemed to surge the resistless and rising swell of a dammed-up, terrible rage.