And to make matters worse, when she arrived at the ranch it was to meet Jack Belllounds with a face as black as a thunder-cloud.
"The old man wants to see you," he announced, with an accent that recalled his threat of a few hours back.
"Does he ?" queried Columbine, loftily.

"From the courteous way you speak I imagine it's important." Belllounds did not deign to reply to this.

He sat on the porch, where evidently he had awaited her return, and he looked anything but happy.
"Where is dad ?" continued Columbine.
Jack motioned toward the second door, beyond which he sat, the one that opened into the room the rancher used as a kind of office and storeroom.
As Columbine walked by Jack he grasped her skirt.
"Columbine! you're angry ?" he said, appealingly.
"I reckon I am," replied Columbine.
"Don't go in to dad when you're that way," implored Jack.

"He's angry, too--and--and--it'll only make matters worse." From long experience Columbine could divine when Jack had done something in the interest of self and then had awakened to possible consequences.
She pulled away from him without replying, and knocked on the office door.
"Come in," called the rancher.
Columbine went in.

"Hello, dad! Do you want me ?" Belllounds sat at an old table, bending over a soiled ledger, with a stubby pencil in his huge hand.