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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1095 ***
+
+
+
+
+THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS
+
+
+by Zane Grey
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+
+     I.    A Gentleman of the Range
+     II.   A Secret Kept
+     III.  Sister and Brother
+     IV.   A Ride From Sunrise to Sunset
+     V.    The Round-up
+     VI.   A Gift and a Purchase
+     VII.  Her Majesty’s Rancho
+     VIII. El Capitan
+     IX.   The New Foreman
+     X.    Don Carlo’s Vaqueros
+     XI.   A Band of Guerrillas
+     XII.  Friends from the East
+     XIII. Cowboy Golf
+     XIV.  Bandits
+     XV.   The Mountain Trail
+     XVI.  The Crags
+     XVII. The Lost Mine of the Padres
+     XVIII.Bonita
+     XIX.  Don Carlos
+     XX.   The Sheriff of El Cajon
+     XXI.  Unbridled
+     XXII. The Secret Told
+     XXIII.The Light of Western Stars
+     XXIV. The Ride
+     XXV.  At the End of the Road
+
+
+
+
+THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS
+
+
+
+
+I. A Gentleman of the Range
+
+
+When Madeline Hammond stepped from the train at El Cajon, New Mexico, it
+was nearly midnight, and her first impression was of a huge dark space
+of cool, windy emptiness, strange and silent, stretching away under
+great blinking white stars.
+
+“Miss, there’s no one to meet you,” said the conductor, rather
+anxiously.
+
+“I wired my brother,” she replied. “The train being so late—perhaps he
+grew tired of waiting. He will be here presently. But, if he should not
+come—surely I can find a hotel?”
+
+“There’s lodgings to be had. Get the station agent to show you. If
+you’ll excuse me—this is no place for a lady like you to be alone at
+night. It’s a rough little town—mostly Mexicans, miners, cowboys.
+And they carouse a lot. Besides, the revolution across the border has
+stirred up some excitement along the line. Miss, I guess it’s safe
+enough, if you—”
+
+“Thank you. I am not in the least afraid.”
+
+As the train started to glide away Miss Hammond walked towards the dimly
+lighted station. As she was about to enter she encountered a Mexican
+with sombrero hiding his features and a blanket mantling his shoulders.
+
+“Is there any one here to meet Miss Hammond?” she asked.
+
+“No sabe, Senora,” he replied from under the muffling blanket, and he
+shuffled away into the shadow.
+
+She entered the empty waiting-room. An oil-lamp gave out a thick yellow
+light. The ticket window was open, and through it she saw there was
+neither agent nor operator in the little compartment. A telegraph
+instrument clicked faintly.
+
+Madeline Hammond stood tapping a shapely foot on the floor, and with
+some amusement contrasted her reception in El Cajon with what it was
+when she left a train at the Grand Central. The only time she could
+remember ever having been alone like this was once when she had missed
+her maid and her train at a place outside of Versailles—an adventure
+that had been a novel and delightful break in the prescribed routine of
+her much-chaperoned life. She crossed the waiting-room to a window and,
+holding aside her veil, looked out. At first she could descry only a few
+dim lights, and these blurred in her sight. As her eyes grew accustomed
+to the darkness she saw a superbly built horse standing near the window.
+Beyond was a bare square. Or, if it was a street, it was the widest one
+Madeline had ever seen. The dim lights shone from low, flat buildings.
+She made out the dark shapes of many horses, all standing motionless
+with drooping heads. Through a hole in the window-glass came a cool
+breeze, and on it breathed a sound that struck coarsely upon her ear—a
+discordant mingling of laughter and shout, and the tramp of boots to the
+hard music of a phonograph.
+
+“Western revelry,” mused Miss Hammond, as she left the window. “Now,
+what to do? I’ll wait here. Perhaps the station agent will return soon,
+or Alfred will come for me.”
+
+As she sat down to wait she reviewed the causes which accounted for the
+remarkable situation in which she found herself. That Madeline Hammond
+should be alone, at a late hour, in a dingy little Western railroad
+station, was indeed extraordinary.
+
+The close of her debutante year had been marred by the only unhappy
+experience of her life—the disgrace of her brother and his leaving
+home. She dated the beginning of a certain thoughtful habit of mind from
+that time, and a dissatisfaction with the brilliant life society offered
+her. The change had been so gradual that it was permanent before
+she realized it. For a while an active outdoor life—golf, tennis,
+yachting—kept this realization from becoming morbid introspection.
+There came a time when even these lost charm for her, and then she
+believed she was indeed ill in mind. Travel did not help her.
+
+There had been months of unrest, of curiously painful wonderment
+that her position, her wealth, her popularity no longer sufficed. She
+believed she had lived through the dreams and fancies of a girl to
+become a woman of the world. And she had gone on as before, a part of
+the glittering show, but no longer blind to the truth—that there was
+nothing in her luxurious life to make it significant.
+
+Sometimes from the depths of her there flashed up at odd moments
+intimations of a future revolt. She remembered one evening at the opera
+when the curtain had risen upon a particularly well-done piece of stage
+scenery—a broad space of deep desolateness, reaching away under an
+infinitude of night sky, illumined by stars. The suggestion it brought
+of vast wastes of lonely, rugged earth, of a great, blue-arched vault of
+starry sky, pervaded her soul with a strange, sweet peace.
+
+When the scene was changed she lost this vague new sense of peace, and
+she turned away from the stage in irritation. She looked at the long,
+curved tier of glittering boxes that represented her world. It was a
+distinguished and splendid world—the wealth, fashion, culture, beauty,
+and blood of a nation. She, Madeline Hammond, was a part of it. She
+smiled, she listened, she talked to the men who from time to time
+strolled into the Hammond box, and she felt that there was not a moment
+when she was natural, true to herself. She wondered why these people
+could not somehow, some way be different; but she could not tell what
+she wanted them to be. If they had been different they would not have
+fitted the place; indeed, they would not have been there at all. Yet she
+thought wistfully that they lacked something for her.
+
+And suddenly realizing she would marry one of these men if she did not
+revolt, she had been assailed by a great weariness, an icy-sickening
+sense that life had palled upon her. She was tired of fashionable
+society. She was tired of polished, imperturbable men who sought only to
+please her. She was tired of being feted, admired, loved, followed,
+and importuned; tired of people; tired of houses, noise, ostentation,
+luxury. She was so tired of herself!
+
+In the lonely distances and the passionless stars of boldly painted
+stage scenery she had caught a glimpse of something that stirred her
+soul. The feeling did not last. She could not call it back. She imagined
+that the very boldness of the scene had appealed to her; she divined
+that the man who painted it had found inspiration, joy, strength,
+serenity in rugged nature. And at last she knew what she needed—to be
+alone, to brood for long hours, to gaze out on lonely, silent, darkening
+stretches, to watch the stars, to face her soul, to find her real self.
+
+Then it was she had first thought of visiting the brother who had gone
+West to cast his fortune with the cattlemen. As it happened, she had
+friends who were on the eve of starting for California, and she made
+a quick decision to travel with them. When she calmly announced her
+intention of going out West her mother had exclaimed in consternation;
+and her father, surprised into pathetic memory of the black sheep of the
+family, had stared at her with glistening eyes. “Why, Madeline! You want
+to see that wild boy!” Then he had reverted to the anger he still felt
+for his wayward son, and he had forbidden Madeline to go. Her mother
+forgot her haughty poise and dignity. Madeline, however, had exhibited
+a will she had never before been known to possess. She stood her ground
+even to reminding them that she was twenty-four and her own mistress. In
+the end she had prevailed, and that without betraying the real state of
+her mind.
+
+Her decision to visit her brother had been too hurriedly made and acted
+upon for her to write him about it, and so she had telegraphed him
+from New York, and also, a day later, from Chicago, where her traveling
+friends had been delayed by illness. Nothing could have turned her back
+then. Madeline had planned to arrive in El Cajon on October 3d, her
+brother’s birthday, and she had succeeded, though her arrival occurred
+at the twenty-fourth hour. Her train had been several hours late.
+Whether or not the message had reached Alfred’s hands she had no means
+of telling, and the thing which concerned her now was the fact that she
+had arrived and he was not there to meet her.
+
+It did not take long for thought of the past to give way wholly to the
+reality of the present.
+
+“I hope nothing has happened to Alfred,” she said to herself. “He was
+well, doing splendidly, the last time he wrote. To be sure, that was a
+good while ago; but, then, he never wrote often. He’s all right. Pretty
+soon he’ll come, and how glad I’ll be! I wonder if he has changed.”
+
+As Madeline sat waiting in the yellow gloom she heard the faint,
+intermittent click of the telegraph instrument, the low hum of wires,
+the occasional stamp of an iron-shod hoof, and a distant vacant laugh
+rising above the sounds of the dance. These commonplace things were
+new to her. She became conscious of a slight quickening of her pulse.
+Madeline had only a limited knowledge of the West. Like all of her
+class, she had traveled Europe and had neglected America. A few letters
+from her brother had confused her already vague ideas of plains and
+mountains, as well as of cowboys and cattle. She had been astounded
+at the interminable distance she had traveled, and if there had been
+anything attractive to look at in all that journey she had passed it in
+the night. And here she sat in a dingy little station, with telegraph
+wires moaning a lonely song in the wind.
+
+A faint sound like the rattling of thin chains diverted Madeline’s
+attention. At first she imagined it was made by the telegraph wires.
+Then she heard a step. The door swung wide; a tall man entered, and with
+him came the clinking rattle. She realized then that the sound came from
+his spurs. The man was a cowboy, and his entrance recalled vividly to
+her that of Dustin Farnum in the first act of “The Virginian.”
+
+“Will you please direct me to a hotel?” asked Madeline, rising.
+
+The cowboy removed his sombrero, and the sweep he made with it and the
+accompanying bow, despite their exaggeration, had a kind of rude grace.
+He took two long strides toward her.
+
+“Lady, are you married?”
+
+In the past Miss Hammond’s sense of humor had often helped her to
+overlook critical exactions natural to her breeding. She kept silence,
+and she imagined it was just as well that her veil hid her face at the
+moment. She had been prepared to find cowboys rather striking, and she
+had been warned not to laugh at them.
+
+This gentleman of the range deliberately reached down and took up her
+left hand. Before she recovered from her start of amaze he had stripped
+off her glove.
+
+“Fine spark, but no wedding-ring,” he drawled. “Lady, I’m glad to see
+you’re not married.”
+
+He released her hand and returned the glove.
+
+“You see, the only ho-tel in this here town is against boarding married
+women.”
+
+“Indeed?” said Madeline, trying to adjust her wits to the situation.
+
+“It sure is,” he went on. “Bad business for ho-tels to have married
+women. Keeps the boys away. You see, this isn’t Reno.”
+
+Then he laughed rather boyishly, and from that, and the way he
+slouched on his sombrero, Madeline realized he was half drunk. As
+she instinctively recoiled she not only gave him a keener glance, but
+stepped into a position where a better light shone on his face. It
+was like red bronze, bold, raw, sharp. He laughed again, as if
+good-naturedly amused with himself, and the laugh scarcely changed the
+hard set of his features. Like that of all women whose beauty and charm
+had brought them much before the world, Miss Hammond’s intuition had
+been developed until she had a delicate and exquisitely sensitive
+perception of the nature of men and of her effect upon them. This crude
+cowboy, under the influence of drink, had affronted her; nevertheless,
+whatever was in his mind, he meant no insult.
+
+“I shall be greatly obliged if you will show me to the hotel,” she said.
+
+“Lady, you wait here,” he replied, slowly, as if his thought did not
+come swiftly. “I’ll go fetch the porter.”
+
+She thanked him, and as he went out, closing the door, she sat down in
+considerable relief. It occurred to her that she should have mentioned
+her brother’s name. Then she fell to wondering what living with such
+uncouth cowboys had done to Alfred. He had been wild enough in college,
+and she doubted that any cowboy could have taught him much. She alone of
+her family had ever believed in any latent good in Alfred Hammond, and
+her faith had scarcely survived the two years of silence.
+
+Waiting there, she again found herself listening to the moan of the wind
+through the wires. The horse outside began to pound with heavy hoofs,
+and once he whinnied. Then Madeline heard a rapid pattering, low
+at first and growing louder, which presently she recognized as the
+galloping of horses. She went to the window, thinking, hoping her
+brother had arrived. But as the clatter increased to a roar, shadows
+sped by—lean horses, flying manes and tails, sombreroed riders, all
+strange and wild in her sight. Recalling what the conductor had said,
+she was at some pains to quell her uneasiness. Dust-clouds shrouded the
+dim lights in the windows. Then out of the gloom two figures appeared,
+one tall, the other slight. The cowboy was returning with a porter.
+
+Heavy footsteps sounded without, and lighter ones dragging along, and
+then suddenly the door rasped open, jarring the whole room. The cowboy
+entered, pulling a disheveled figure—that of a priest, a padre, whose
+mantle had manifestly been disarranged by the rude grasp of his captor.
+Plain it was that the padre was extremely terrified.
+
+Madeline Hammond gazed in bewilderment at the little man, so pale and
+shaken, and a protest trembled upon her lips; but it was never uttered,
+for this half-drunken cowboy now appeared to be a cool, grim-smiling
+devil; and stretching out a long arm, he grasped her and swung her back
+to the bench.
+
+“You stay there!” he ordered.
+
+His voice, though neither brutal nor harsh nor cruel, had the
+unaccountable effect of making her feel powerless to move. No man had
+ever before addressed her in such a tone. It was the woman in her that
+obeyed—not the personality of proud Madeline Hammond.
+
+The padre lifted his clasped hands as if supplicating for his life, and
+began to speak hurriedly in Spanish. Madeline did not understand the
+language. The cowboy pulled out a huge gun and brandished it in the
+priest’s face. Then he lowered it, apparently to point it at the
+priest’s feet. There was a red flash, and then a thundering report that
+stunned Madeline. The room filled with smoke and the smell of powder.
+Madeline did not faint or even shut her eyes, but she felt as if she
+were fast in a cold vise. When she could see distinctly through the
+smoke she experienced a sensation of immeasurable relief that the
+cowboy had not shot the padre. But he was still waving the gun, and now
+appeared to be dragging his victim toward her. What possibly could be
+the drunken fool’s intention? This must be, this surely was a cowboy
+trick. She had a vague, swiftly flashing recollection of Alfred’s first
+letters descriptive of the extravagant fun of cowboys. Then she vividly
+remembered a moving picture she had seen—cowboys playing a monstrous
+joke on a lone school-teacher. Madeline no sooner thought of it than
+she made certain her brother was introducing her to a little wild West
+amusement. She could scarcely believe it, yet it must be true. Alfred’s
+old love of teasing her might have extended even to this outrage.
+Probably he stood just outside the door or window laughing at her
+embarrassment.
+
+Anger checked her panic. She straightened up with what composure this
+surprise had left her and started for the door. But the cowboy barred
+her passage—grasped her arms. Then Madeline divined that her brother
+could not have any knowledge of this indignity. It was no trick. It was
+something that was happening, that was real, that threatened she knew
+not what. She tried to wrench free, feeling hot all over at being
+handled by this drunken brute. Poise, dignity, culture—all the
+acquired habits of character—fled before the instinct to fight. She was
+athletic. She fought. She struggled desperately. But he forced her back
+with hands of iron. She had never known a man could be so strong. And
+then it was the man’s coolly smiling face, the paralyzing strangeness
+of his manner, more than his strength, that weakened Madeline until she
+sank trembling against the bench.
+
+“What—do you—mean?” she panted.
+
+“Dearie, ease up a little on the bridle,” he replied, gaily.
+
+Madeline thought she must be dreaming. She could not think clearly. It
+had all been too swift, too terrible for her to grasp. Yet she not
+only saw this man, but also felt his powerful presence. And the shaking
+priest, the haze of blue smoke, the smell of powder—these were not
+unreal.
+
+Then close before her eyes burst another blinding red flash, and close
+at her ears bellowed another report. Unable to stand, Madeline slipped
+down onto the bench. Her drifting faculties refused clearly to record
+what transpired during the next few moments; presently, however, as her
+mind steadied somewhat, she heard, though as in a dream, the voice of
+the padre hurrying over strange words. It ceased, and then the cowboy’s
+voice stirred her.
+
+“Lady, say Si—Si. Say it—quick! Say it—Si!”
+
+From sheer suggestion, a force irresistible at this moment when her will
+was clamped by panic, she spoke the word.
+
+“And now, lady—so we can finish this properly—what’s your name?”
+
+Still obeying mechanically, she told him.
+
+He stared for a while, as if the name had awakened associations in a
+mind somewhat befogged. He leaned back unsteadily. Madeline heard the
+expulsion of his breath, a kind of hard puff, not unusual in drunken
+men.
+
+“What name?” he demanded.
+
+“Madeline Hammond. I am Alfred Hammond’s sister.”
+
+He put his hand up and brushed at an imaginary something before his
+eyes. Then he loomed over her, and that hand, now shaking a little,
+reached out for her veil. Before he could touch it, however, she swept
+it back, revealing her face.
+
+“You’re—not—Majesty Hammond?”
+
+How strange—stranger than anything that had ever happened to her
+before—was it to hear that name on the lips of this cowboy! It was a
+name by which she was familiarly known, though only those nearest and
+dearest to her had the privilege of using it. And now it revived her
+dulled faculties, and by an effort she regained control of herself.
+
+“You are Majesty Hammond,” he replied; and this time he affirmed
+wonderingly rather than questioned.
+
+Madeline rose and faced him.
+
+“Yes, I am.”
+
+He slammed his gun back into its holster.
+
+“Well, I reckon we won’t go on with it, then.”
+
+“With what, sir? And why did you force me to say Si to this priest?”
+
+“I reckon that was a way I took to show him you’d be willing to get
+married.”
+
+“Oh!... You—you!...” Words failed her.
+
+This appeared to galvanize the cowboy into action. He grasped the padre
+and led him toward the door, cursing and threatening, no doubt enjoining
+secrecy. Then he pushed him across the threshold and stood there
+breathing hard and wrestling with himself.
+
+“Here—wait—wait a minute, Miss—Miss Hammond,” he said, huskily. “You
+could fall into worse company than mine—though I reckon you sure
+think not. I’m pretty drunk, but I’m—all right otherwise. Just wait—a
+minute.”
+
+She stood quivering and blazing with wrath, and watched this savage
+fight his drunkenness. He acted like a man who had been suddenly shocked
+into a rational state of mind, and he was now battling with himself to
+hold on to it. Madeline saw the dark, damp hair lift from his brows as
+he held it up to the cool wind. Above him she saw the white stars in the
+deep-blue sky, and they seemed as unreal to her as any other thing
+in this strange night. They were cold, brilliant, aloof, distant; and
+looking at them, she felt her wrath lessen and die and leave her calm.
+
+The cowboy turned and began to talk.
+
+“You see—I was pretty drunk,” he labored. “There was a fiesta—and a
+wedding. I do fool things when I’m drunk. I made a fool bet I’d marry
+the first girl who came to town.... If you hadn’t worn that veil—the
+fellows were joshing me—and Ed Linton was getting married—and
+everybody always wants to gamble.... I must have been pretty drunk.”
+
+After the one look at her when she had first put aside her veil he had
+not raised his eyes to her face. The cool audacity had vanished in what
+was either excessive emotion or the maudlin condition peculiar to some
+men when drunk. He could not stand still; perspiration collected in
+beads upon his forehead; he kept wiping his face with his scarf, and he
+breathed like a man after violent exertions.
+
+“You see—I was pretty—” he began.
+
+“Explanations are not necessary,” she interrupted. “I am very
+tired—distressed. The hour is late. Have you the slightest idea what it
+means to be a gentleman?”
+
+His bronzed face burned to a flaming crimson.
+
+“Is my brother here—in town to-night?” Madeline went on.
+
+“No. He’s at his ranch.”
+
+“But I wired him.”
+
+“Like as not the message is over in his box at the P.O. He’ll be in town
+to-morrow. He’s shipping cattle for Stillwell.”
+
+“Meanwhile I must go to a hotel. Will you please—”
+
+If he heard her last words he showed no evidence of it. A noise outside
+had attracted his attention. Madeline listened. Low voices of men, the
+softer liquid tones of a woman, drifted in through the open door. They
+spoke in Spanish, and the voices grew louder. Evidently the speakers
+were approaching the station. Footsteps crunching on gravel attested to
+this, and quicker steps, coming with deep tones of men in anger, told
+of a quarrel. Then the woman’s voice, hurried and broken, rising higher,
+was eloquent of vain appeal.
+
+The cowboy’s demeanor startled Madeline into anticipation of something
+dreadful. She was not deceived. From outside came the sound of a
+scuffle—a muffled shot, a groan, the thud of a falling body, a woman’s
+low cry, and footsteps padding away in rapid retreat.
+
+Madeline Hammond leaned weakly back in her seat, cold and sick, and for
+a moment her ears throbbed to the tramp of the dancers across the way
+and the rhythm of the cheap music. Then into the open door-place flashed
+a girl’s tragic face, lighted by dark eyes and framed by dusky hair. The
+girl reached a slim brown hand round the side of the door and held on as
+if to support herself. A long black scarf accentuated her gaudy attire.
+
+“Senor—Gene!” she exclaimed; and breathless glad recognition made a
+sudden break in her terror.
+
+“Bonita!” The cowboy leaped to her. “Girl! Are you hurt?”
+
+“No, Senor.”
+
+He took hold of her. “I heard—somebody got shot. Was it Danny?”
+
+“No, Senor.”
+
+“Did Danny do the shooting? Tell me, girl.”
+
+“No, Senor.”
+
+“I’m sure glad. I thought Danny was mixed up in that. He had Stillwell’s
+money for the boys—I was afraid.... Say, Bonita, but you’ll get in
+trouble. Who was with you? What did you do?”
+
+“Senor Gene—they Don Carlos vaqueros—they quarrel over me. I only
+dance a leetle, smile a leetle, and they quarrel. I beg they be
+good—watch out for Sheriff Hawe... and now Sheriff Hawe put me in jail.
+I so frighten; he try make leetle love to Bonita once, and now he hate
+me like he hate Senor Gene.”
+
+“Pat Hawe won’t put you in jail. Take my horse and hit the Peloncillo
+trail. Bonita, promise to stay away from El Cajon.”
+
+“Si, Senor.”
+
+He led her outside. Madeline heard the horse snort and champ his bit.
+The cowboy spoke low; only a few words were intelligible—“stirrups...
+wait... out of town... mountain... trail ... now ride!”
+
+A moment’s silence ensued, and was broken by a pounding of hoofs, a
+pattering of gravel. Then Madeline saw a big, dark horse run into the
+wide space. She caught a glimpse of wind-swept scarf and hair, a little
+form low down in the saddle. The horse was outlined in black against the
+line of dim lights. There was something wild and splendid in his flight.
+
+Directly the cowboy appeared again in the doorway.
+
+“Miss Hammond, I reckon we want to rustle out of here. Been bad
+goings-on. And there’s a train due.”
+
+She hurried into the open air, not daring to look back or to either
+side. Her guide strode swiftly. She had almost to run to keep up with
+him. Many conflicting emotions confused her. She had a strange sense of
+this stalking giant beside her, silent except for his jangling spurs.
+She had a strange feeling of the cool, sweet wind and the white stars.
+Was it only her disordered fancy, or did these wonderful stars open and
+shut? She had a queer, disembodied thought that somewhere in ages back,
+in another life, she had seen these stars. The night seemed dark,
+yet there was a pale, luminous light—a light from the stars—and she
+fancied it would always haunt her.
+
+Suddenly aware that she had been led beyond the line of houses, she
+spoke:
+
+“Where are you taking me?”
+
+“To Florence Kingsley,” he replied.
+
+“Who is she?”
+
+“I reckon she’s your brother’s best friend out here.” Madeline kept pace
+with the cowboy for a few moments longer, and then she stopped. It was
+as much from necessity to catch her breath as it was from recurring
+fear. All at once she realized what little use her training had been for
+such an experience as this. The cowboy, missing her, came back the few
+intervening steps. Then he waited, still silent, looming beside her.
+
+“It’s so dark, so lonely,” she faltered. “How do I know... what warrant
+can you give me that you—that no harm will befall me if I go farther?”
+
+“None, Miss Hammond, except that I’ve seen your face.”
+
+
+
+
+II. A Secret Kept
+
+
+Because of that singular reply Madeline found faith to go farther with
+the cowboy. But at the moment she really did not think about what he
+had said. Any answer to her would have served if it had been kind. His
+silence had augmented her nervousness, compelling her to voice her fear.
+Still, even if he had not replied at all she would have gone on with
+him. She shuddered at the idea of returning to the station, where she
+believed there had been murder; she could hardly have forced herself to
+go back to those dim lights in the street; she did not want to wander
+around alone in the dark.
+
+And as she walked on into the windy darkness, much relieved that he had
+answered as he had, reflecting that he had yet to prove his words true,
+she began to grasp the deeper significance of them. There was a revival
+of pride that made her feel that she ought to scorn to think at all
+about such a man. But Madeline Hammond discovered that thought was
+involuntary, that there were feelings in her never dreamed of before
+this night.
+
+Presently Madeline’s guide turned off the walk and rapped at a door of a
+low-roofed house.
+
+“Hullo—who’s there?” a deep voice answered.
+
+“Gene Stewart,” said the cowboy. “Call Florence—quick!”
+
+Thump of footsteps followed, a tap on a door, and voices. Madeline heard
+a woman exclaim: “Gene! here when there’s a dance in town! Something
+wrong out on the range.” A light flared up and shone bright through a
+window. In another moment there came a patter of soft steps, and the
+door opened to disclose a woman holding a lamp.
+
+“Gene! Al’s not—”
+
+“Al is all right,” interrupted the cowboy.
+
+Madeline had two sensations then—one of wonder at the note of alarm
+and love in the woman’s voice, and the other of unutterable relief to be
+safe with a friend of her brother’s.
+
+“It’s Al’s sister—came on to-night’s train,” the cowboy was saying. “I
+happened to be at the station, and I’ve fetched her up to you.”
+
+Madeline came forward out of the shadow.
+
+“Not—not really Majesty Hammond!” exclaimed Florence Kingsley. She
+nearly dropped the lamp, and she looked and looked, astounded beyond
+belief.
+
+“Yes, I am really she,” replied Madeline. “My train was late, and for
+some reason Alfred did not meet me. Mr.—Mr. Stewart saw fit to bring me
+to you instead of taking me to a hotel.”
+
+“Oh, I’m so glad to meet you,” replied Florence, warmly. “Do come in.
+I’m so surprised, I forget my manners. Why, Al never mentioned your
+coming.”
+
+“He surely could not have received my messages,” said Madeline, as she
+entered.
+
+The cowboy, who came in with her satchel, had to stoop to enter the
+door, and, once in, he seemed to fill the room. Florence set the lamp
+down upon the table. Madeline saw a young woman with a smiling, friendly
+face, and a profusion of fair hair hanging down over her dressing-gown.
+
+“Oh, but Al will be glad!” cried Florence. “Why, you are white as a
+sheet. You must be tired. What a long wait you had at the station! I
+heard the train come in hours ago as I was going to bed. That station
+is lonely at night. If I had known you were coming! Indeed, you are very
+pale. Are you ill?”
+
+“No. Only I am very tired. Traveling so far by rail is harder than I
+imagined. I did have rather a long wait after arriving at the station,
+but I can’t say that it was lonely.”
+
+Florence Kingsley searched Madeline’s face with keen eyes, and then
+took a long, significant look at the silent Stewart. With that she
+deliberately and quietly closed a door leading into another room.
+
+“Miss Hammond, what has happened?” She had lowered her voice.
+
+“I do not wish to recall all that has happened,” replied Madeline.
+“I shall tell Alfred, however, that I would rather have met a hostile
+Apache than a cowboy.”
+
+“Please don’t tell Al that!” cried Florence. Then she grasped Stewart
+and pulled him close to the light. “Gene, you’re drunk!”
+
+“I was pretty drunk,” he replied, hanging his head.
+
+“Oh, what have you done?”
+
+“Now, see here, Flo, I only—”
+
+“I don’t want to know. I’d tell it. Gene, aren’t you ever going to learn
+decency? Aren’t you ever going to stop drinking? You’ll lose all your
+friends. Stillwell has stuck to you. Al’s been your best friend. Molly
+and I have pleaded with you, and now you’ve gone and done—God knows
+what!”
+
+“What do women want to wear veils for?” he growled. “I’d have known her
+but for that veil.”
+
+“And you wouldn’t have insulted her. But you would the next girl who
+came along. Gene, you are hopeless. Now, you get out of here and don’t
+ever come back.”
+
+“Flo!” he entreated.
+
+“I mean it.”
+
+“I reckon then I’ll come back to-morrow and take my medicine,” he
+replied.
+
+“Don’t you dare!” she cried.
+
+Stewart went out and closed the door.
+
+“Miss Hammond, you—you don’t know how this hurts me,” said Florence.
+“What you must think of us! It’s so unlucky that you should have had
+this happen right at first. Now, maybe you won’t have the heart to
+stay. Oh, I’ve known more than one Eastern girl to go home without ever
+learning what we really are cut here. Miss Hammond, Gene Stewart is a
+fiend when he’s drunk. All the same I know, whatever he did, he meant no
+shame to you. Come now, don’t think about it again to-night.” She took
+up the lamp and led Madeline into a little room. “This is out West,”
+ she went on, smiling, as she indicated the few furnishings; “but you can
+rest. You’re perfectly safe. Won’t you let me help you undress—can’t I
+do anything for you?”
+
+“You are very kind, thank you, but I can manage,” replied Madeline.
+
+“Well, then, good night. The sooner I go the sooner you’ll rest. Just
+forget what happened and think how fine a surprise you’re to give your
+brother to-morrow.”
+
+With that she slipped out and softly shut the door.
+
+As Madeline laid her watch on the bureau she noticed that the time was
+past two o’clock. It seemed long since she had gotten off the train.
+When she had turned out the lamp and crept wearily into bed she knew
+what it was to be utterly spent. She was too tired to move a finger. But
+her brain whirled.
+
+She had at first no control over it, and a thousand thronging sensations
+came and went and recurred with little logical relation. There were
+the roar of the train; the feeling of being lost; the sound of pounding
+hoofs; a picture of her brother’s face as she had last seen it five
+years before; a long, dim line of lights; the jingle of silver spurs;
+night, wind, darkness, stars. Then the gloomy station, the shadowy
+blanketed Mexican, the empty room, the dim lights across the square, the
+tramp of the dancers and vacant laughs and discordant music, the door
+flung wide and the entrance of the cowboy. She did not recall how he
+had looked or what he had done. And the next instant she saw him cool,
+smiling, devilish—saw him in violence; the next his bigness, his
+apparel, his physical being were vague as outlines in a dream. The white
+face of the padre flashed along in the train of thought, and it brought
+the same dull, half-blind, indefinable state of mind subsequent to that
+last nerve-breaking pistol-shot. That passed, and then clear and vivid
+rose memories of the rest that had happened—strange voices betraying
+fury of men, a deadened report, a moan of mortal pain, a woman’s
+poignant cry. And Madeline saw the girl’s great tragic eyes and the
+wild flight of the big horse into the blackness, and the dark, stalking
+figure of the silent cowboy, and the white stars that seemed to look
+down remorselessly.
+
+This tide of memory rolled over Madeline again and again, and gradually
+lost its power and faded. All distress left her, and she felt herself
+drifting. How black the room was—as black with her eyes open as it was
+when they were shut! And the silence—it was like a cloak. There was
+absolutely no sound. She was in another world from that which she knew.
+She thought of this fair-haired Florence and of Alfred; and, wondering
+about them, she dropped to sleep.
+
+When she awakened the room was bright with sunlight. A cool wind blowing
+across the bed caused her to put her hands under the blanket. She was
+lazily and dreamily contemplating the mud walls of this little room when
+she remembered where she was and how she had come there.
+
+How great a shock she had been subjected to was manifest in a sensation
+of disgust that overwhelmed her. She even shut her eyes to try and blot
+out the recollection. She felt that she had been contaminated.
+
+Presently Madeline Hammond again awoke to the fact she had learned the
+preceding night—that there were emotions to which she had heretofore
+been a stranger. She did not try to analyze them, but she exercised her
+self-control to such good purpose that by the time she had dressed she
+was outwardly her usual self. She scarcely remembered when she had found
+it necessary to control her emotions. There had been no trouble, no
+excitement, no unpleasantness in her life. It had been ordered for
+her—tranquil, luxurious, brilliant, varied, yet always the same.
+
+She was not surprised to find the hour late, and was going to make
+inquiry about her brother when a voice arrested her. She recognized Miss
+Kingsley’s voice addressing some one outside, and it had a sharpness she
+had not noted before.
+
+“So you came back, did you? Well, you don’t look very proud of yourself
+this mawnin’. Gene Stewart, you look like a coyote.”
+
+“Say, Flo if I am a coyote I’m not going to sneak,” he said.
+
+“What ’d you come for?” she demanded.
+
+“I said I was coming round to take my medicine.”
+
+“Meaning you’ll not run from Al Hammond? Gene, your skull is as thick
+as an old cow’s. Al will never know anything about what you did to his
+sister unless you tell him. And if you do that he’ll shoot you. She
+won’t give you away. She’s a thoroughbred. Why, she was so white last
+night I thought she’d drop at my feet, but she never blinked an eyelash.
+I’m a woman, Gene Stewart and if I couldn’t feel like Miss Hammond I
+know how awful an ordeal she must have had. Why, she’s one of the most
+beautiful, the most sought after, the most exclusive women in New York
+City. There’s a crowd of millionaires and lords and dukes after her.
+How terrible it’d be for a woman like her to be kissed by a drunken
+cowpuncher! I say it—”
+
+“Flo, I never insulted her that way,” broke out Stewart.
+
+“It was worse, then?” she queried, sharply.
+
+“I made a bet that I’d marry the first girl who came to town. I was on
+the watch and pretty drunk. When she came—well, I got Padre Marcos and
+tried to bully her into marrying me.”
+
+“Oh, Lord!” Florence gasped. “It’s worse than I feared.... Gene, Al will
+kill you.”
+
+“That’ll be a good thing,” replied the cowboy, dejectedly.
+
+“Gene Stewart, it certainly would, unless you turn over a new leaf,”
+ retorted Florence. “But don’t be a fool.” And here she became
+earnest and appealing. “Go away, Gene. Go join the rebels across the
+border—you’re always threatening that. Anyhow, don’t stay here and ruin
+any chance of stirring Al up. He’d kill you just the same as you would
+kill another man for insulting your sister. Don’t make trouble for Al.
+That’d only make sorrow for her, Gene.”
+
+The subtle import was not lost upon Madeline. She was distressed because
+she could not avoid hearing what was not meant for her ears. She made an
+effort not to listen, and it was futile.
+
+“Flo, you can’t see this a man’s way,” he replied, quietly. “I’ll stay
+and take my medicine.”
+
+“Gene, I could sure swear at you or any other pig-head of a cowboy.
+Listen. My brother-in-law, Jack, heard something of what I said to you
+last night. He doesn’t like you. I’m afraid he’ll tell Al. For Heaven’s
+sake, man, go down-town and shut him up and yourself, too.”
+
+Then Madeline heard her come into the house and presently rap on the
+door and call softly:
+
+“Miss Hammond. Are you awake?”
+
+“Awake and dressed, Miss Kingsley. Come in.”
+
+“Oh! You’ve rested. You look so—so different. I’m sure glad. Come out
+now. We’ll have breakfast, and then you may expect to meet your brother
+any moment.”
+
+“Wait, please. I heard you speaking to Mr. Stewart. It was unavoidable.
+But I am glad. I must see him. Will you please ask him to come into the
+parlor a moment?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Florence, quickly; and as she turned at the door she
+flashed at Madeline a woman’s meaning glance. “Make him keep his mouth
+shut!”
+
+Presently there were slow, reluctant steps outside the front door, then
+a pause, and the door opened. Stewart stood bareheaded in the
+sunlight. Madeline remembered with a kind of shudder the tall form, the
+embroidered buckskin vest, the red scarf, the bright leather wristbands,
+the wide silver-buckled belt and chaps. Her glance seemed to run
+over him swift as lightning. But as she saw his face now she did not
+recognize it. The man’s presence roused in her a revolt. Yet something
+in her, the incomprehensible side of her nature, thrilled in the look of
+this splendid dark-faced barbarian.
+
+“Mr. Stewart, will you please come in?” she asked, after that long
+pause.
+
+“I reckon not,” he said. The hopelessness of his tone meant that he knew
+he was not fit to enter a room with her, and did not care or cared too
+much.
+
+Madeline went to the door. The man’s face was hard, yet it was sad, too.
+And it touched her.
+
+“I shall not tell my brother of your—your rudeness to me,” she began.
+It was impossible for her to keep the chill out of her voice, to speak
+with other than the pride and aloofness of her class. Nevertheless,
+despite her loathing, when she had spoken so far it seemed that kindness
+and pity followed involuntarily. “I choose to overlook what you did
+because you were not wholly accountable, and because there must be no
+trouble between Alfred and you. May I rely on you to keep silence and
+to seal the lips of that priest? And you know there was a man killed or
+injured there last night. I want to forget that dreadful thing. I don’t
+want it known that I heard—”
+
+“The Greaser didn’t die,” interrupted Stewart.
+
+“Ah! then that’s not so bad, after all. I am glad for the sake of your
+friend—the little Mexican girl.”
+
+A slow scarlet wave overspread his face, and his shame was painful to
+see. That fixed in Madeline’s mind a conviction that if he was a heathen
+he was not wholly bad. And it made so much difference that she smiled
+down at him.
+
+“You will spare me further distress, will you not, please?” His hoarse
+reply was incoherent, but she needed only to see his working face to
+know his remorse and gratitude.
+
+Madeline went back to her room; and presently Florence came for her, and
+directly they were sitting at breakfast. Madeline Hammond’s impression
+of her brother’s friend had to be reconstructed in the morning light.
+She felt a wholesome, frank, sweet nature. She liked the slow Southern
+drawl. And she was puzzled to know whether Florence Kingsley was pretty
+or striking or unusual. She had a youthful glow and flush, the clear
+tan of outdoors, a face that lacked the soft curves and lines of Eastern
+women, and her eyes were light gray, like crystal, steady, almost
+piercing, and her hair was a beautiful bright, waving mass.
+
+Florence’s sister was the elder of the two, a stout woman with a strong
+face and quiet eyes. It was a simple fare and service they gave to their
+guest; but they made no apologies for that. Indeed, Madeline felt
+their simplicity to be restful. She was sated with respect, sick of
+admiration, tired of adulation; and it was good to see that these
+Western women treated her as very likely they would have treated any
+other visitor. They were sweet, kind; and what Madeline had at first
+thought was a lack of expression or vitality she soon discovered to
+be the natural reserve of women who did not live superficial lives.
+Florence was breezy and frank, her sister quaint and not given much to
+speech. Madeline thought she would like to have these women near her
+if she were ill or in trouble. And she reproached herself for a
+fastidiousness, a hypercritical sense of refinement that could not help
+distinguishing what these women lacked.
+
+“Can you ride?” Florence was asking. “That’s what a Westerner always
+asks any one from the East. Can you ride like a man—astride, I mean?
+Oh, that’s fine. You look strong enough to hold a horse. We have some
+fine horses out here. I reckon when Al comes we’ll go out to Bill
+Stillwell’s ranch. We’ll have to go, whether we want to or not, for when
+Bill learns you are here he’ll just pack us all off. You’ll love old
+Bill. His ranch is run down, but the range and the rides up in the
+mountains—they are beautiful. We’ll hunt and climb, and most of all
+we’ll ride. I love a horse—I love the wind in my face, and a wide
+stretch with the mountains beckoning. You must have the best horse
+on the ranges. And that means a scrap between Al and Bill and all
+the cowboys. We don’t all agree about horses, except in case of Gene
+Stewart’s iron-gray.”
+
+“Does Mr. Stewart own the best horse in the country?” asked Madeline.
+Again she had an inexplicable thrill as she remembered the wild flight
+of Stewart’s big dark steed and rider.
+
+“Yes, and that’s all he does own,” replied Florence. “Gene can’t keep
+even a quirt. But he sure loves that horse and calls him—”
+
+At this juncture a sharp knock on the parlor door interrupted the
+conversation. Florence’s sister went to open it. She returned presently
+and said:
+
+“It’s Gene. He’s been dawdlin’ out there on the front porch, and he
+knocked to let us know Miss Hammond’s brother is comin’.”
+
+Florence hurried into the parlor, followed by Madeline. The door stood
+open, and disclosed Stewart sitting on the porch steps. From down
+the road came a clatter of hoofs. Madeline looked out over Florence’s
+shoulder and saw a cloud of dust approaching, and in it she
+distinguished outlines of horses and riders. A warmth spread over her, a
+little tingle of gladness, and the feeling recalled her girlish love for
+her brother. What would he be like after long years?
+
+“Gene, has Jack kept his mouth shut?” queried Florence; and again
+Madeline was aware of a sharp ring in the girl’s voice.
+
+“No,” replied Stewart.
+
+“Gene! You won’t let it come to a fight? Al can be managed. But Jack
+hates you and he’ll have his friends with him.”
+
+“There won’t be any fight.”
+
+“Use your brains now,” added Florence; and then she turned to push
+Madeline gently back into the parlor.
+
+Madeline’s glow of warmth changed to a blank dismay. Was she to see
+her brother act with the violence she now associated with cowboys? The
+clatter of hoofs stopped before the door. Looking out, Madeline saw a
+bunch of dusty, wiry horses pawing the gravel and tossing lean heads.
+Her swift glance ran over the lithe horsemen, trying to pick out the one
+who was her brother. But she could not. Her glance, however, caught the
+same rough dress and hard aspect that characterized the cowboy Stewart.
+Then one rider threw his bridle, leaped from the saddle, and came
+bounding up the porch steps. Florence met him at the door.
+
+“Hello, Flo. Where is she?” he called, eagerly. With that he looked over
+her shoulder to espy Madeline. He actually jumped at her. She hardly
+knew the tall form and the bronzed face, but the warm flash of blue eyes
+was familiar. As for him, he had no doubt of his sister, it appeared,
+for with broken welcome he threw his arms around her, then held her off
+and looked searchingly at her.
+
+“Well, sister,” he began, when Florence turned hurriedly from the door
+and interrupted him.
+
+“Al, I think you’d better stop the wrangling out there.” He stared at
+her, appeared suddenly to hear the loud voices from the street, and
+then, releasing Madeline, he said:
+
+“By George! I forgot, Flo. There is a little business to see to. Keep my
+sister in here, please, and don’t be fussed up now.”
+
+He went out on the porch and called to his men:
+
+“Shut off your wind, Jack! And you, too, Blaze! I didn’t want you
+fellows to come here. But as you would come, you’ve got to shut up. This
+is my business.”
+
+Whereupon he turned to Stewart, who was sitting on the fence.
+
+“Hello, Stewart!” he said.
+
+It was a greeting; but there was that in the voice which alarmed
+Madeline.
+
+Stewart leisurely got up and leisurely advanced to the porch.
+
+“Hello, Hammond!” he drawled.
+
+“Drunk again last night?”
+
+“Well, if you want to know, and if it’s any of your mix, yes, I
+was-pretty drunk,” replied Stewart.
+
+It was a kind of cool speech that showed the cowboy in control of
+himself and master of the situation—not an easy speech to follow up
+with undue inquisitiveness. There was a short silence.
+
+“Damn it, Stewart,” said the speaker, presently, “here’s the situation:
+It’s all over town that you met my sister last night at the station
+and—and insulted her. Jack’s got it in for you, so have these other
+boys. But it’s my affair. Understand, I didn’t fetch them here. They can
+see you square yourself, or else—Gene, you’ve been on the wrong trail
+for some time, drinking and all that. You’re going to the bad. But Bill
+thinks, and I think, you’re still a man. We never knew you to lie. Now
+what have you to say for yourself?”
+
+“Nobody is insinuating that I am a liar?” drawled Stewart.
+
+“No.”
+
+“Well, I’m glad to hear that. You see, Al, I was pretty drunk last
+night, but not drunk enough to forget the least thing I did. I told Pat
+Hawe so this morning when he was curious. And that’s polite for me to
+be to Pat. Well, I found Miss Hammond waiting alone at the station. She
+wore a veil, but I knew she was a lady, of course. I imagine, now that
+I think of it, that Miss Hammond found my gallantry rather startling,
+and—”
+
+At this point Madeline, answering to unconsidered impulse, eluded
+Florence and walked out upon the porch.
+
+Sombreros flashed down and the lean horses jumped.
+
+“Gentlemen,” said Madeline, rather breathlessly; and it did not add
+to her calmness to feel a hot flush in her cheeks, “I am very new to
+Western ways, but I think you are laboring under a mistake, which, in
+justice to Mr. Stewart, I want to correct. Indeed, he was rather—rather
+abrupt and strange when he came up to me last night; but as I understand
+him now, I can attribute that to his gallantry. He was somewhat wild
+and sudden and—sentimental in his demand to protect me—and it was not
+clear whether he meant his protection for last night or forever; but I
+am happy to say be offered me no word that was not honorable. And he saw
+me safely here to Miss Kingsley’s home.”
+
+
+
+
+III. Sister and Brother
+
+
+Then Madeline returned to the little parlor with the brother whom she
+had hardly recognized.
+
+“Majesty!” he exclaimed. “To think of your being here!”
+
+The warmth stole back along her veins. She remembered how that pet name
+had sounded from the lips of this brother who had given it to her.
+
+“Alfred!”
+
+Then his words of gladness at sight of her, his chagrin at not being
+at the train to welcome her, were not so memorable of him as the way he
+clasped her, for he had held her that way the day he left home, and she
+had not forgotten. But now he was so much taller and bigger, so dusty
+and strange and different and forceful, that she could scarcely think
+him the same man. She even had a humorous thought that here was another
+cowboy bullying her, and this time it was her brother.
+
+“Dear old girl,” he said, more calmly, as he let her go, “you haven’t
+changed at all, except to grow lovelier. Only you’re a woman now, and
+you’ve fulfilled the name I gave you. God! how sight of you brings back
+home! It seems a hundred years since I left. I missed you more than all
+the rest.”
+
+Madeline seemed to feel with his every word that she was remembering
+him. She was so amazed at the change in him that she could not believe
+her eyes. She saw a bronzed, strong-jawed, eagle-eyed man, stalwart,
+superb of height, and, like the cowboys, belted, booted, spurred. And
+there was something hard as iron in his face that quivered with his
+words. It seemed that only in those moments when the hard lines broke
+and softened could she see resemblance to the face she remembered. It
+was his manner, the tone of his voice, and the tricks of speech
+that proved to her he was really Alfred. She had bidden good-by to a
+disgraced, disinherited, dissolute boy. Well she remembered the handsome
+pale face with its weakness and shadows and careless smile, with the
+ever-present cigarette hanging between the lips. The years had passed,
+and now she saw him a man—the West had made him a man. And Madeline
+Hammond felt a strong, passionate gladness and gratefulness, and a
+direct check to her suddenly inspired hatred of the West.
+
+“Majesty, it was good of you to come. I’m all broken up. How did you
+ever do it? But never mind that now. Tell me about that brother of
+mine.”
+
+And Madeline told him, and then about their sister Helen. Question after
+question he fired at her; and she told him of her mother; of Aunt
+Grace, who had died a year ago; of his old friends, married, scattered,
+vanished. But she did not tell him of his father, for he did not ask.
+
+Quite suddenly the rapid-fire questioning ceased; he choked, was silent
+a moment, and then burst into tears. It seemed to her that a long,
+stored-up bitterness was flooding away. It hurt her to see him—hurt her
+more to hear him. And in the succeeding few moments she grew closer to
+him than she had ever been in the past. Had her father and mother done
+right by him? Her pulse stirred with unwonted quickness. She did not
+speak, but she kissed him, which, for her, was an indication of unusual
+feeling. And when he recovered command over his emotions he made no
+reference to his breakdown, nor did she. But that scene struck deep
+into Madeline Hammond’s heart. Through it she saw what he had lost and
+gained.
+
+“Alfred, why did you not answer my last letters?” asked Madeline. “I had
+not heard from you for two years.”
+
+“So long? How time flies! Well, things went bad with me about the last
+time I heard from you. I always intended to write some day, but I never
+did.”
+
+“Things went wrong? Tell me.”
+
+“Majesty, you mustn’t worry yourself with my troubles. I want you to
+enjoy your stay and not be bothered with my difficulties.”
+
+“Please tell me. I suspected something had gone wrong. That is partly
+why I decided to come out.”
+
+“All right; if you must know,” he began; and it seemed to Madeline that
+there was a gladness in his decision to unburden himself. “You remember
+all about my little ranch, and that for a while I did well raising
+stock? I wrote you all that. Majesty, a man makes enemies anywhere.
+Perhaps an Eastern man in the West can make, if not so many, certainly
+more bitter ones. At any rate, I made several. There was a cattleman,
+Ward by name—he’s gone now—and he and I had trouble over cattle. That
+gave me a back-set. Pat Hawe, the sheriff here, has been instrumental in
+hurting my business. He’s not so much of a rancher, but he has influence
+at Santa Fe and El Paso and Douglas. I made an enemy of him. I never did
+anything to him. He hates Gene Stewart, and upon one occasion I spoiled
+a little plot of his to get Gene in his clutches. The real reason for
+his animosity toward me is that he loves Florence, and Florence is going
+to marry me.”
+
+“Alfred!”
+
+“What’s the matter, Majesty? Didn’t Florence impress you favorably?” he
+asked, with a keen glance.
+
+“Why—yes, indeed. I like her. But I did not think of her in relation
+to you—that way. I am greatly surprised. Alfred, is she well born? What
+connections?”
+
+“Florence is just a girl of ordinary people. She was born in Kentucky,
+was brought up in Texas. My aristocratic and wealthy family would
+scorn—”
+
+“Alfred, you are still a Hammond,” said Madeline, with uplifted head.
+
+Alfred laughed. “We won’t quarrel, Majesty. I remember you, and in spite
+of your pride you’ve got a heart. If you stay here a month you’ll love
+Florence Kingsley. I want you to know she’s had a great deal to do
+with straightening me up.... Well, to go on with my story. There’s Don
+Carlos, a Mexican rancher, and he’s my worst enemy. For that matter,
+he’s as bad an enemy of Bill Stillwell and other ranchers. Stillwell, by
+the way, is my friend and one of the finest men on earth. I got in debt
+to Don Carlos before I knew he was so mean. In the first place I lost
+money at faro—I gambled some when I came West—and then I made unwise
+cattle deals. Don Carlos is a wily Greaser, he knows the ranges, he
+has the water, and he is dishonest. So he outfigured me. And now I am
+practically ruined. He has not gotten possession of my ranch, but that’s
+only a matter of time, pending lawsuits at Santa Fe. At present I have a
+few hundred cattle running on Stillwell’s range, and I am his foreman.”
+
+“Foreman?” queried Madeline.
+
+“I am simply boss of Stillwell’s cowboys, and right glad of my job.”
+
+Madeline was conscious of an inward burning. It required an effort for
+her to retain her outward tranquillity. Annoying consciousness she had
+also of the returning sense of new disturbing emotions. She began to see
+just how walled in from unusual thought-provoking incident and sensation
+had been her exclusive life.
+
+“Cannot your property be reclaimed?” she asked. “How much do you owe?”
+
+“Ten thousand dollars would clear me and give me another start. But,
+Majesty, in this country that’s a good deal of money, and I haven’t been
+able to raise it. Stillwell’s in worse shape than I am.”
+
+Madeline went over to Alfred and put her hands on his shoulders.
+
+“We must not be in debt.”
+
+He stared at her as if her words had recalled something long forgotten.
+Then he smiled.
+
+“How imperious you are! I’d forgotten just who my beautiful sister
+really is. Majesty, you’re not going to ask me to take money from you?”
+
+“I am.”
+
+“Well, I’ll not do it. I never did, even when I was in college, and then
+there wasn’t much beyond me.”
+
+“Listen, Alfred,” she went on, earnestly, “this is entirely different.
+I had only an allowance then. You had no way to know that since I last
+wrote you I had come into my inheritance from Aunt Grace. It was—well,
+that doesn’t matter. Only, I haven’t been able to spend half the income.
+It’s mine. It’s not father’s money. You will make me very happy if
+you’ll consent. Alfred, I’m so—so amazed at the change in you. I’m
+so happy. You must never take a backward step from now on. What is ten
+thousand dollars to me? Sometimes I spend that in a month. I throw money
+away. If you let me help you it will be doing me good as well as you.
+Please, Alfred.”
+
+He kissed her, evidently surprised at her earnestness. And indeed
+Madeline was surprised herself. Once started, her speech had flowed.
+
+“You always were the best of fellows, Majesty. And if you really
+care—if you really want to help me I’ll be only too glad to accept. It
+will be fine. Florence will go wild. And that Greaser won’t harass me
+any more. Majesty, pretty soon some titled fellow will be spending your
+money; I may as well take a little before he gets it all,” he finished,
+jokingly.
+
+“What do you know about me?” she asked, lightly.
+
+“More than you think. Even if we are lost out here in the woolly West
+we get news. Everybody knows about Anglesbury. And that Dago duke who
+chased you all over Europe, that Lord Castleton has the running now and
+seems about to win. How about it, Majesty?”
+
+Madeline detected a hint that suggested scorn in his gay speech. And
+deep in his searching glance she saw a flame. She became thoughtful. She
+had forgotten Castleton, New York, society.
+
+“Alfred,” she began, seriously, “I don’t believe any titled gentleman
+will ever spend my money, as you elegantly express it.”
+
+“I don’t care for that. It’s you!” he cried, passionately, and he
+grasped her with a violence that startled her. He was white; his eyes
+were now like fire. “You are so splendid—so wonderful. People called
+you the American Beauty, but you’re more than that. You’re the American
+Girl! Majesty, marry no man unless you love him, and love an American.
+Stay away from Europe long enough to learn to know the men—the real men
+of your own country.”
+
+“Alfred, I’m afraid there are not always real men and real love for
+American girls in international marriages. But Helen knows this. It’ll
+be her choice. She’ll be miserable if she marries Anglesbury.”
+
+“It’ll serve her just right,” declared her brother. “Helen was always
+crazy for glitter, adulation, fame. I’ll gamble she never saw more of
+Anglesbury than the gold and ribbons on his breast.”
+
+“I am sorry. Anglesbury is a gentleman; but it is the money he wanted, I
+think. Alfred, tell me how you came to know about me, ’way out here? You
+may be assured I was astonished to find that Miss Kingsley knew me as
+Majesty Hammond.”
+
+“I imagine it was a surprise,” he replied, with a laugh, “I told
+Florence about you—gave her a picture of you. And, of course, being a
+woman, she showed the picture and talked. She’s in love with you. Then,
+my dear sister, we do get New York papers out here occasionally, and we
+can see and read. You may not be aware that you and your society friends
+are objects of intense interest in the U. S. in general, and the West in
+particular. The papers are full of you, and perhaps a lot of things you
+never did.”
+
+“That Mr. Stewart knew, too. He said, ‘You’re not Majesty Hammond?’”
+
+“Never mind his impudence!” exclaimed Alfred; and then again he laughed.
+“Gene is all right, only you’ve got to know him. I’ll tell you what he
+did. He got hold of one of those newspaper pictures of you—the one
+in the Times; he took it away from here, and in spite of Florence he
+wouldn’t fetch it back. It was a picture of you in riding-habit with
+your blue-ribbon horse, White Stockings—remember? It was taken at
+Newport. Well, Stewart tacked the picture up in his bunk-house and named
+his beautiful horse Majesty. All the cowboys knew it. They would see
+the picture and tease him unmercifully. But he didn’t care. One day I
+happened to drop in on him and found him just recovering from a carouse.
+I saw the picture, too, and I said to him, ‘Gene, if my sister knew you
+were a drunkard she’d not be proud of having her picture stuck up in
+your room.’ Majesty, he did not touch a drop for a month, and when he
+did drink again he took the picture down, and he has never put it back.”
+
+Madeline smiled at her brother’s amusement, but she did not reply. She
+simply could not adjust herself to these queer free Western’ ways. Her
+brother had eloquently pleaded for her to keep herself above a sordid
+and brilliant marriage, yet he not only allowed a cowboy to keep her
+picture in his room, but actually spoke of her and used her name in a
+temperance lecture. Madeline just escaped feeling disgust. She was saved
+from this, however, by nothing less than her brother’s naive gladness
+that through subtle suggestion Stewart had been persuaded to be good for
+a month. Something made up of Stewart’s effrontery to her; of Florence
+Kingsley meeting her, frankly as it were, as an equal; of the elder
+sister’s slow, quiet, easy acceptance of this visitor who had been
+honored at the courts of royalty; of that faint hint of scorn in
+Alfred’s voice, and his amused statement in regard to her picture
+and the name Majesty—something made up of all these stung Madeline
+Hammond’s pride, alienated her for an instant, and then stimulated her
+intelligence, excited her interest, and made her resolve to learn a
+little about this incomprehensible West.
+
+“Majesty, I must run down to the siding,” he said, consulting his watch.
+“We’re loading a shipment of cattle. I’ll be back by supper-time and
+bring Stillwell with me. You’ll like him. Give me the check for your
+trunk.”
+
+She went into the little bedroom and, taking up her bag, she got out a
+number of checks.
+
+“Six! Six trunks!” he exclaimed. “Well, I’m very glad you intend to stay
+awhile. Say, Majesty, it will take me as long to realize who you really
+are as it’ll take to break you of being a tenderfoot. I hope you packed
+a riding-suit. If not you’ll have to wear trousers! You’ll have to do
+that, anyway, when we go up in the mountains.”
+
+“No!”
+
+“You sure will, as Florence says.”
+
+“We shall see about that. I don’t know what’s in the trunks. I never
+pack anything. My dear brother, what do I have maids for?”
+
+“How did it come that you didn’t travel with a maid?”
+
+“I wanted to be alone. But don’t you worry. I shall be able to look
+after myself. I dare say it will be good for me.”
+
+She went to the gate with him.
+
+“What a shaggy, dusty horse! He’s wild, too. Do you let him stand that
+way without being haltered? I should think he would run off.”
+
+“Tenderfoot! You’ll be great fun, Majesty, especially for the cowboys.”
+
+“Oh, will I?” she asked, constrainedly.
+
+“Yes, and in three days they will be fighting one another over you.
+That’s going to worry me. Cowboys fall in love with a plain woman,
+an ugly woman, any woman, so long as she’s young. And you! Good Lord!
+They’ll go out of their heads.”
+
+“You are pleased to be facetious, Alfred. I think I have had quite
+enough of cowboys, and I haven’t been here twenty-four hours.”
+
+“Don’t think too much of first impressions. That was my mistake when I
+arrived here. Good-by. I’ll go now. Better rest awhile. You look tired.”
+
+The horse started as Alfred put his foot in the stirrup and was running
+when the rider slipped his leg over the saddle. Madeline watched him in
+admiration. He seemed to be loosely fitted to the saddle, moving with
+the horse.
+
+“I suppose that’s a cowboy’s style. It pleases me,” she said. “How
+different from the seat of Eastern riders!”
+
+Then Madeline sat upon the porch and fell to interested observation of
+her surrounding. Near at hand it was decidedly not prepossessing. The
+street was deep in dust, and the cool wind whipped up little puffs. The
+houses along this street were all low, square, flat-roofed structures
+made of some kind of red cement. It occurred to her suddenly that this
+building-material must be the adobe she had read about. There was no
+person in sight. The long street appeared to have no end, though the
+line of houses did not extend far. Once she heard a horse trotting at
+some distance, and several times the ringing of a locomotive bell. Where
+were the mountains, wondered Madeline. Soon low over the house-roofs she
+saw a dim, dark-blue, rugged outline. It seemed to charm her eyes and
+fix her gaze. She knew the Adirondacks, she had seen the Alps from the
+summit of Mont Blanc, and had stood under the great black, white-tipped
+shadow of the Himalayas. But they had not drawn her as these remote
+Rockies. This dim horizon line boldly cutting the blue sky fascinated
+her. Florence Kingsley’s expression “beckoning mountains” returned to
+Madeline. She could not see or feel so much as that. Her impression was
+rather that these mountains were aloof, unattainable, that if approached
+they would recede or vanish like the desert mirage.
+
+Madeline went to her room, intending to rest awhile, and she fell
+asleep. She was aroused by Florence’s knock and call.
+
+“Miss Hammond, your brother has come back with Stillwell.”
+
+“Why, how I have slept!” exclaimed Madeline. “It’s nearly six o’clock.”
+
+“I’m sure glad. You were tired. And the air here makes strangers sleepy.
+Come, we want you to meet old Bill. He calls himself the last of the
+cattlemen. He has lived in Texas and here all his life.”
+
+Madeline accompanied Florence to the porch. Her brother, who was sitting
+near the door, jumped up and said:
+
+“Hello, Majesty!” And as he put his arm around her he turned toward a
+massive man whose broad, craggy face began to ripple and wrinkle. “I
+want to introduce my friend Stillwell to you. Bill, this is my sister,
+the sister I’ve so often told you about—Majesty.”
+
+“Wal, wal, Al, this’s the proudest meetin’ of my life,” replied
+Stillwell, in a booming voice. He extended a huge hand. “Miss—Miss
+Majesty, sight of you is as welcome as the rain an’ the flowers to an
+old desert cattleman.”
+
+Madeline greeted him, and it was all she could do to repress a cry
+at the way he crunched her hand in a grasp of iron. He was old,
+white-haired, weather-beaten, with long furrows down his checks and with
+gray eyes almost hidden in wrinkles. If he was smiling she fancied it a
+most extraordinary smile. The next instant she realized that it had been
+a smile, for his face appeared to stop rippling, the light died, and
+suddenly it was like rudely chiseled stone. The quality of hardness she
+had seen in Stewart was immeasurably intensified in this old man’s face.
+
+“Miss Majesty, it’s plumb humiliatin’ to all of us thet we wasn’t on
+hand to meet you,” Stillwell said. “Me an’ Al stepped into the P. O.
+an’ said a few mild an’ cheerful things. Them messages ought to hev been
+sent out to the ranch. I’m sure afraid it was a bit unpleasant fer you
+last night at the station.”
+
+“I was rather anxious at first and perhaps frightened,” replied
+Madeline.
+
+“Wal, I’m some glad to tell you thet there’s no man in these parts
+except your brother thet I’d as lief hev met you as Gene Stewart.”
+
+“Indeed?”
+
+“Yes, an’ thet’s takin’ into consideration Gene’s weakness, too. I’m
+allus fond of sayin’ of myself thet I’m the last of the old cattlemen.
+Wal, Stewart’s not a native Westerner, but he’s my pick of the last of
+the cowboys. Sure, he’s young, but he’s the last of the old style—the
+picturesque—an’ chivalrous, too, I make bold to say, Miss Majesty, as
+well as the old hard-ridin’ kind. Folks are down on Stewart. An’ I’m
+only sayin’ a good word for him because he is down, an’ mebbe last night
+he might hev scared you, you bein’ fresh from the East.”
+
+Madeline liked the old fellow for his loyalty to the cowboy he evidently
+cared for; but as there did not seem anything for her to say, she
+remained silent.
+
+“Miss Majesty, the day of the cattleman is about over. An’ the day of
+the cowboy, such as Gene Stewart, is over. There’s no place for Gene. If
+these weren’t modern days he’d come near bein’ a gun-man, same as we
+had in Texas, when I ranched there in the ‘seventies. But he can’t fit
+nowhere now; he can’t hold a job, an’ he’s goin’ down.”
+
+“I am sorry to hear it,” murmured Madeline. “But, Mr. Stillwell, aren’t
+these modern days out here just a little wild—yet? The conductor on
+my train told me of rebels, bandits, raiders. Then I have had other
+impressions of—well, that were wild enough for me.”
+
+“Wal, it’s some more pleasant an’ excitin’ these days than for many
+years,” replied Stillwell. “The boys hev took to packin’ guns again. But
+thet’s owin’ to the revolution in Mexico. There’s goin’ to be trouble
+along the border. I reckon people in the East don’t know there is a
+revolution. Wal, Madero will oust Diaz, an’ then some other rebel will
+oust Madero. It means trouble on the border an’ across the border, too.
+I wouldn’t wonder if Uncle Sam hed to get a hand in the game. There’s
+already been holdups on the railroads an’ raids along the Rio Grande
+Valley. An’ these little towns are full of Greasers, all disturbed by
+the fightin’ down in Mexico. We’ve been hevin’ shootin’-scrapes an’
+knifin’-scrapes, an’ some cattle-raidin’. I hev been losin’ a few cattle
+right along. Reminds me of old times; an’ pretty soon if it doesn’t
+stop, I’ll take the old-time way to stop it.”
+
+“Yes, indeed, Majesty,” put in Alfred, “you have hit upon an interesting
+time to visit us.”
+
+“Wal, thet sure ’pears to be so,” rejoined Stillwell. “Stewart got in
+trouble down heah to-day, an’ I’m more than sorry to hev to tell you
+thet your name figgered in it. But I couldn’t blame him, fer I sure
+would hev done the same myself.”
+
+“That so?” queried Alfred, laughing. “Well, tell us about it.”
+
+Madeline simply gazed at her brother, and, though he seemed amused at
+her consternation, there was mortification in his face.
+
+It required no great perspicuity, Madeline thought, to see that
+Stillwell loved to talk, and the way he squared himself and spread his
+huge hands over his knees suggested that he meant to do this opportunity
+justice.
+
+“Miss Majesty, I reckon, bein’ as you’re in the West now, thet you must
+take things as they come, an’ mind each thing a little less than the one
+before. If we old fellers hedn’t been thet way we’d never hev lasted.
+
+“Last night wasn’t particular bad, ratin’ with some other nights lately.
+There wasn’t much doin’. But, I had a hard knock. Yesterday when we
+started in with a bunch of cattle I sent one of my cowboys, Danny Mains,
+along ahead, carryin’ money I hed to pay off hands an’ my bills, an’ I
+wanted thet money to get in town before dark. Wal, Danny was held up.
+I don’t distrust the lad. There’s been strange Greasers in town lately,
+an’ mebbe they knew about the money comin’.
+
+“Wal, when I arrived with the cattle I was some put to it to make ends
+meet. An’ to-day I wasn’t in no angelic humor. When I hed my business
+all done I went around pokin’ my nose beak an’ there, tryin’ to get
+scent of thet money. An’ I happened in at a hall we hev thet does duty
+fer’ jail an’ hospital an’ election-post an’ what not. Wal, just then
+it was doin’ duty as a hospital. Last night was fiesta night—these
+Greasers hev a fiesta every week or so—an’ one Greaser who hed been bad
+hurt was layin’ in the hall, where he hed been fetched from the station.
+Somebody hed sent off to Douglas fer a doctor, but be hedn’t come yet.
+I’ve hed some experience with gunshot wounds, an’ I looked this
+feller over. He wasn’t shot up much, but I thought there was danger of
+blood-poison-in’. Anyway, I did all I could.
+
+“The hall was full of cowboys, ranchers, Greasers, miners, an’ town
+folks, along with some strangers. I was about to get started up this way
+when Pat Hawe come in.
+
+“Pat he’s the sheriff. I reckon, Miss Majesty, thet sheriffs are new to
+you, an’ fer sake of the West I’ll explain to you thet we don’t hev many
+of the real thing any more. Garrett, who killed Billy the Kid an’ was
+killed himself near a year or so ago—he was the kind of sheriff thet
+helps to make a self-respectin’ country. But this Pat Hawe—wal, I
+reckon there’s no good in me sayin’ what I think of him. He come into
+the hall, an’ he was roarin’ about things. He was goin’ to arrest Danny
+Mains on sight. Wal, I jest polite-like told Pat thet the money was mine
+an’ he needn’t get riled about it. An’ if I wanted to trail the thief
+I reckon I could do it as well as anybody. Pat howled thet law was law,
+an’ he was goin’ to lay down the law. Sure it ‘peared to me thet Pat was
+daid set to arrest the first man he could find excuse to.
+
+“Then he cooled down a bit an’ was askin’ questions about the wounded
+Greaser when Gene Stewart come in. Whenever Pat an’ Gene come together
+it reminds me of the early days back in the ‘seventies. Jest naturally
+everybody shut up. Fer Pat hates Gene, an’ I reckon Gene ain’t very
+sweet on Pat. They’re jest natural foes in the first place, an’ then the
+course of events here in El Cajon has been aggravatin’.
+
+“‘Hello, Stewart! You’re the feller I’m lookin’ fer,’ said Pat.
+
+“Stewart eyed him an’ said, mighty cool an’ sarcastic, ‘Hawe, you look a
+good deal fer me when I’m hittin’ up the dust the other way.’
+
+“Pat went red at thet, but he held in. ‘Say, Stewart, you-all think a
+lot of thet roan horse of yourn, with the aristocratic name?’
+
+“‘I reckon I do,’ replied Gene, shortly.
+
+“‘Wal, where is he?’
+
+“‘Thet’s none of your business, Hawe.’
+
+“‘Oho! it ain’t, hey? Wal, I guess I can make it my business. Stewart,
+there was some queer goings-on last night thet you know somethin’ about.
+Danny Mains robbed—Stillwell’s money gone—your roan horse gone—thet
+little hussy Bonita gone—an’ this Greaser near gone, too. Now, seein’
+thet you was up late an’ prowlin’ round the station where this Greaser
+was found, it ain’t onreasonable to think you might know how he got
+plugged—is it?’
+
+“Stewart laughed kind of cold, an’ he rolled a cigarette, all the time
+eyin’ Pat, an’ then he said if he’d plugged the Greaser it ’d never hev
+been sich a bunglin’ job.
+
+“‘I can arrest you on suspicion, Stewart, but before I go thet far
+I want some evidence. I want to round up Danny Mains an’ thet little
+Greaser girl. I want to find out what’s become of your hoss. You’ve
+never lent him since you hed him, an’ there ain’t enough raiders across
+the border to steal him from you. It’s got a queer look—thet hoss bein’
+gone.’
+
+“‘You sure are a swell detective, Hawe, an’ I wish you a heap of luck,’
+replied Stewart.
+
+“Thet ‘peared to nettle Pat beyond bounds, an’ he stamped around an’
+swore. Then he had an idea. It jest stuck out all over him, an’ he shook
+his finger in Stewart’s face.
+
+“‘You was drunk last night?’
+
+“Stewart never batted an eye.
+
+“‘You met some woman on Number Eight, didn’t you?’ shouted Hawe.
+
+“‘I met a lady,’ replied Stewart, quiet an’ menacin’ like.
+
+“‘You met Al Hammond’s sister, an’ you took her up to Kingsley’s. An’
+cinch this, my cowboy cavalier, I’m goin’ up there an’ ask this grand
+dame some questions, an’ if she’s as close-mouthed as you are I’ll
+arrest her!’
+
+“Gene Stewart turned white. I fer one expected to see him jump like
+lightnin’, as he does when he’s riled sudden. But he was calm an’ he was
+thinkin’ hard. Presently he said:
+
+“‘Pat, thet’s a fool idee, an’ if you do the trick it’ll hurt you all
+the rest of your life. There’s absolutely no reason to frighten Miss
+Hammond. An’ tryin’ to arrest her would be such a damned outrage as
+won’t be stood fer in El Cajon. If you’re sore on me send me to jail.
+I’ll go. If you want to hurt Al Hammond, go an’ do it some man kind of
+way. Don’t take your spite out on us by insultin’ a lady who has come
+hyar to hev a little visit. We’re bad enough without bein’ low-down as
+Greasers.’
+
+“It was a long talk for Gene, an’ I was as surprised as the rest of the
+fellers. Think of Gene Stewart talkin’ soft an’ sweet to thet red-eyed
+coyote of a sheriff! An’ Pat, he looked so devilishly gleeful thet
+if somethin’ about Gene hedn’t held me tight I’d hev got in the game
+myself. It was plain to me an’ others who spoke of it afterwards thet
+Pat Hawe hed forgotten the law an’ the officer in the man an’ his hate.
+
+“‘I’m a-goin’, an’ I’m a-goin’ right now!’” he shouted. “An’ after thet
+any one could hev heerd a clock tick a mile off. Stewart seemed kind
+of chokin’, an’ he seemed to hev been bewildered by the idee of Hawe’s
+confrontin’ you.
+
+“An’ finally he burst out: ‘But, man, think who it is! It’s Miss
+Hammond! If you seen her, even if you was locoed or drunk, you—you
+couldn’t do it.’
+
+“‘Couldn’t I? Wal, I’ll show you damn quick. What do I care who she is?
+Them swell Eastern women—I’ve heerd of them. They’re not so much. This
+Hammond woman—’
+
+“Suddenly Hawe shut up, an’ with his red mug turnin’ green he went for
+his gun.”
+
+Stillwell paused in his narrative to get breath, and he wiped his moist
+brow. And now his face began to lose its cragginess. It changed, it
+softened, it rippled and wrinkled, and all that strange mobility focused
+and shone in a wonderful smile.
+
+“An’ then, Miss Majesty, then there was somethin’ happened. Stewart took
+Pat’s gun away from him and throwed it on the floor. An’ what followed
+was beautiful. Sure it was the beautifulest sight I ever seen. Only it
+was over so soon! A little while after, when the doctor came, he hed
+another patient besides the wounded Greaser, an’ he said thet this new
+one would require about four months to be up an’ around cheerful-like
+again. An’ Gene Stewart hed hit the trail for the border.”
+
+
+
+
+IV. A Ride From Sunrise To Sunset
+
+
+Next morning, when Madeline was aroused by her brother, it was not yet
+daybreak; the air chilled her, and in the gray gloom she had to feel
+around for matches and lamp. Her usual languid manner vanished at a
+touch of the cold water. Presently, when Alfred knocked on her door and
+said he was leaving a pitcher of hot water outside, she replied, with
+chattering teeth, “Th-thank y-you, b-but I d-don’t ne-need any now.” She
+found it necessary, however, to warm her numb fingers before she could
+fasten hooks and buttons. And when she was dressed she marked in the dim
+mirror that there were tinges of red in her cheeks.
+
+“Well, if I haven’t some color!” she exclaimed.
+
+Breakfast waited for her in the dining-room. The sisters ate with her.
+Madeline quickly caught the feeling of brisk action that seemed to be
+in the air. From the back of the house sounded the tramp of boots and
+voices of men, and from outside came a dull thump of hoofs, the rattle
+of harness, and creak of wheels. Then Alfred came stamping in.
+
+“Majesty, here’s where you get the real thing,” he announced, merrily.
+“We’re rushing you off, I’m sorry to say; but we must hustle back to
+the ranch. The fall round-up begins to-morrow. You will ride in the
+buck-board with Florence and Stillwell. I’ll ride on ahead with the boys
+and fix up a little for you at the ranch. Your baggage will follow, but
+won’t get there till to-morrow sometime. It’s a long ride out—nearly
+fifty miles by wagon-road. Flo, don’t forget a couple of robes. Wrap her
+up well. And hustle getting ready. We’re waiting.”
+
+A little later, when Madeline went out with Florence, the gray gloom was
+lightening. Horses were champing bits and pounding gravel.
+
+“Mawnin’, Miss Majesty,” said Stillwell, gruffly, from the front seat of
+a high vehicle.
+
+Alfred bundled her up into the back seat, and Florence after her, and
+wrapped them with robes. Then he mounted his horse and started off.
+“Gid-eb!” growled Stillwell, and with a crack of his whip the team
+jumped into a trot. Florence whispered into Madeline’s ear:
+
+“Bill’s grouchy early in the mawnin’. He’ll thaw out soon as it gets
+warm.”
+
+It was still so gray that Madeline could not distinguish objects at any
+considerable distance, and she left El Cajon without knowing what the
+town really looked like. She did know that she was glad to get out of
+it, and found an easier task of dispelling persistent haunting memory.
+
+“Here come the cowboys,” said Florence.
+
+A line of horsemen appeared coming from the right and fell in behind
+Alfred, and gradually they drew ahead, to disappear from sight. While
+Madeline watched them the gray gloom lightened into dawn. All about her
+was bare and dark; the horizon seemed close; not a hill nor a tree broke
+the monotony. The ground appeared to be flat, but the road went up and
+down over little ridges. Madeline glanced backward in the direction of
+El Cajon and the mountains she had seen the day before, and she saw only
+bare and dark ground, like that which rolled before.
+
+A puff of cold wind struck her face and she shivered. Florence noticed
+her and pulled up the second robe and tucked it closely round her up to
+her chin.
+
+“If we have a little wind you’ll sure feel it,” said the Western girl.
+
+Madeline replied that she already felt it. The wind appeared to
+penetrate the robes. It was cold, pure, nipping. It was so thin she had
+to breathe as fast as if she were under ordinary exertion. It hurt her
+nose and made her lungs ache.
+
+“Aren’t you co-cold?” asked Madeline.
+
+“I?” Florence laughed. “I’m used to it. I never get cold.”
+
+The Western girl sat with ungloved hands on the outside of the robe she
+evidently did not need to draw up around her. Madeline thought she had
+never seen such a clear-eyed, healthy, splendid girl.
+
+“Do you like to see the sun rise?” asked Florence.
+
+“Yes, I think I do,” replied Madeline, thoughtfully. “Frankly, I have
+not seen it for years.”
+
+“We have beautiful sunrises, and sunsets from the ranch are glorious.”
+
+Long lines of pink fire ran level with the eastern horizon, which
+appeared to recede as day brightened. A bank of thin, fleecy clouds was
+turning rose. To the south and west the sky was dark; but every moment
+it changed, the blue turning bluer. The eastern sky was opalescent. Then
+in one place gathered a golden light, and slowly concentrated till it
+was like fire. The rosy bank of cloud turned to silver and pearl, and
+behind it shot up a great circle of gold. Above the dark horizon gleamed
+an intensely bright disk. It was the sun. It rose swiftly, blazing out
+the darkness between the ridges and giving color and distance to the
+sweep of land.
+
+“Wal, wal,” drawled Stillwell, and stretched his huge arms as if he had
+just awakened, “thet’s somethin’ like.”
+
+Florence nudged Madeline and winked at her.
+
+“Fine mawnin’, girls,” went on old Bill, cracking his whip. “Miss
+Majesty, it’ll be some oninterestin’ ride all mawnin’. But when we get
+up a bit you’ll sure like it. There! Look to the southwest, jest over
+thet farthest ridge.”
+
+Madeline swept her gaze along the gray, sloping horizon-line to where
+dark-blue spires rose far beyond the ridge.
+
+“Peloncillo Mountains,” said Stillwell. “Thet’s home, when we get
+there. We won’t see no more of them till afternoon, when they rise up
+sudden-like.”
+
+Peloncillo! Madeline murmured the melodious name. Where had she heard
+it? Then she remembered. The cowboy Stewart had told the little Mexican
+girl Bonita to “hit the Peloncillo trail.” Probably the girl had ridden
+the big, dark horse over this very road at night, alone. Madeline had a
+little shiver that was not occasioned by the cold wind.
+
+“There’s a jack!” cried Florence, suddenly.
+
+Madeline saw her first jack-rabbit. It was as large as a dog, and its
+ears were enormous. It appeared to be impudently tame, and the horses
+kicked dust over it as they trotted by. From then on old Bill and
+Florence vied with each other in calling Madeline’s attention to many
+things along the way. Coyotes stealing away into the brush; buzzards
+flapping over the carcass of a cow that had been mired in a wash; queer
+little lizards running swiftly across the road; cattle grazing in the
+hollows; adobe huts of Mexican herders; wild, shaggy horses, with heads
+high, watching from the gray ridges—all these things Madeline looked
+at, indifferently at first, because indifference had become habitual
+with her, and then with an interest that flourished up and insensibly
+grew as she rode on. It grew until sight of a little ragged Mexican boy
+astride the most diminutive burro she had ever seen awakened her to
+the truth. She became conscious of faint, unmistakable awakening of
+long-dead feelings—enthusiasm and delight. When she realized that, she
+breathed deep of the cold, sharp air and experienced an inward joy. And
+she divined then, though she did not know why, that henceforth there was
+to be something new in her life, something she had never felt before,
+something good for her soul in the homely, the commonplace, the natural,
+and the wild.
+
+Meanwhile, as Madeline gazed about her and listened to her companions,
+the sun rose higher and grew warm and soared and grew hot; the horses
+held tirelessly to their steady trot, and mile after mile of rolling
+land slipped by.
+
+From the top of a ridge Madeline saw down into a hollow where a few of
+the cowboys had stopped and were sitting round a fire, evidently busy at
+the noonday meal. Their horses were feeding on the long, gray grass.
+
+“Wal, smell of thet burnin’ greasewood makes my mouth water,” said
+Stillwell. “I’m sure hungry. We’ll noon hyar an’ let the hosses rest.
+It’s a long pull to the ranch.”
+
+He halted near the camp-fire, and, clambering down, began to unharness
+the team. Florence leaped out and turned to help Madeline.
+
+“Walk round a little,” she said. “You must be cramped from sitting still
+so long. I’ll get lunch ready.”
+
+Madeline got down, glad to stretch her limbs, and began to stroll about.
+She heard Stillwell throw the harness on the ground and slap his horses.
+“Roll, you sons-of-guns!” he said. Both horses bent their fore legs,
+heaved down on their sides, and tried to roll over. One horse succeeded
+on the fourth try, and then heaved up with a satisfied snort and shook
+off the dust and gravel. The other one failed to roll over, and gave it
+up, half rose to his feet, and then lay down on the other side.
+
+“He’s sure going to feel the ground,” said Florence, smiling at
+Madeline. “Miss Hammond, I suppose that prize horse of yours—White
+Stockings—would spoil his coat if he were heah to roll in this
+greasewood and cactus.”
+
+During lunch-time Madeline observed that she was an object of manifestly
+great interest to the three cowboys. She returned the compliment,
+and was amused to see that a glance their way caused them painful
+embarrassment. They were grown men—one of whom had white hair—yet
+they acted like boys caught in the act of stealing a forbidden look at a
+pretty girl.
+
+“Cowboys are sure all flirts,” said Florence, as if stating an
+uninteresting fact. But Madeline detected a merry twinkle in her clear
+eyes. The cowboys heard, and the effect upon them was magical. They
+fell to shamed confusion and to hurried useless tasks. Madeline found
+it difficult to see where they had been bold, though evidently they were
+stricken with conscious guilt. She recalled appraising looks of critical
+English eyes, impudent French stares, burning Spanish glances—gantlets
+which any American girl had to run abroad. Compared with foreign eyes
+the eyes of these cowboys were those of smiling, eager babies.
+
+“Haw, haw!” roared Stillwell. “Florence, you jest hit the nail on the
+haid. Cowboys are all plumb flirts. I was wonderin’ why them boys nooned
+hyar. This ain’t no place to noon. Ain’t no grazin’ or wood wuth burnin’
+or nuthin’. Them boys jest held up, throwed the packs, an’ waited
+fer us. It ain’t so surprisin’ fer Booly an’ Ned—they’re young an’
+coltish—but Nels there, why, he’s old enough to be the paw of both you
+girls. It sure is amazin’ strange.”
+
+A silence ensued. The white-haired cowboy, Nels, fussed aimlessly over
+the camp-fire, and then straightened up with a very red face.
+
+“Bill, you’re a dog-gone liar,” he said. “I reckon I won’t stand to be
+classed with Booly an’ Ned. There ain’t no cowboy on this range thet’s
+more appreciatin’ of the ladies than me, but I shore ain’t ridin’ out
+of my way. I reckon I hev enough ridin’ to do. Now, Bill, if you’ve sich
+dog-gone good eyes mebbe you seen somethin’ on the way out?”
+
+“Nels, I hevn’t seen nothin’,” he replied, bluntly. His levity
+disappeared, and the red wrinkles narrowed round his searching eyes.
+
+“Jest take a squint at these hoss tracks,” said Nels, and he drew
+Stillwell a few paces aside and pointed to large hoofprints in the dust.
+“I reckon you know the hoss thet made them?”
+
+“Gene Stewart’s roan, or I’m a son-of-a-gun!” exclaimed Stillwell, and
+he dropped heavily to his knees and began to scrutinize the tracks. “My
+eyes are sure pore; but, Nels, they ain’t fresh.”
+
+“I reckon them tracks was made early yesterday mornin’.”
+
+“Wal, what if they was?” Stillwell looked at his cowboy. “It’s sure as
+thet red nose of yourn Gene wasn’t ridin’ the roan.”
+
+“Who’s sayin’ he was? Bill, its more ’n your eyes thet’s gettin’ old.
+Jest foller them tracks. Come on.”
+
+Stillwell walked slowly, with his head bent, muttering to himself.
+Some thirty paces or more from the camp-fire he stopped short and again
+flopped to his knees. Then he crawled about, evidently examining horse
+tracks.
+
+“Nels, whoever was straddlin’ Stewart’s hoss met somebody. An’ they
+hauled up a bit, but didn’t git down.”
+
+“Tolerable good for you, Bill, thet reasonin’,” replied the cowboy.
+
+Stillwell presently got up and walked swiftly to the left for some rods,
+halted, and faced toward the southwest, then retraced his steps. He
+looked at the imperturbable cowboy.
+
+“Nels, I don’t like this a little,” he growled. “Them tracks make
+straight fer the Peloncillo trail.”
+
+“Shore,” replied Nels.
+
+“Wal?” went on Stillwell, impatiently.
+
+“I reckon you know what hoss made the other tracks?”
+
+“I’m thinkin’ hard, but I ain’t sure.”
+
+“It was Danny Mains’s bronc.”
+
+“How do you know thet?” demanded Stillwell, sharply. “Bill, the left
+front foot of thet little hoss always wears a shoe thet sets crooked.
+Any of the boys can tell you. I’d know thet track if I was blind.”
+
+Stillwell’s ruddy face clouded and he kicked at a cactus plant.
+
+“Was Danny comin’ or goin’?” he asked.
+
+“I reckon he was hittin’ across country fer the Peloncillo trail. But I
+ain’t shore of thet without back-trailin’ him a ways. I was jest waitin’
+fer you to come up.”
+
+“Nels, you don’t think the boy’s sloped with thet little hussy, Bonita?”
+
+“Bill, he shore was sweet on Bonita, same as Gene was, an’ Ed Linton
+before he got engaged, an’ all the boys. She’s shore chain-lightnin’,
+that little black-eyed devil. Danny might hev sloped with her all right.
+Danny was held up on the way to town, an’ then in the shame of it he got
+drunk. But he’ll shew up soon.”
+
+“Wal, mebbe you an’ the boys are right. I believe you are. Nels, there
+ain’t no doubt on earth about who was ridin’ Stewart’s hoss?”
+
+“Thet’s as plain as the hoss’s tracks.”
+
+“Wal, it’s all amazin’ strange. It beats me. I wish the boys would ease
+up on drinkin’. I was pretty fond of Danny an’ Gene. I’m afraid Gene’s
+done fer, sure. If he crosses the border where he can fight it won’t
+take long fer him to get plugged. I guess I’m gettin’ old. I don’t stand
+things like I used to.”
+
+“Bill, I reckon I’d better hit the Peloncillo trail. Mebbe I can find
+Danny.”
+
+“I reckon you had, Nels,” replied Stillwell. “But don’t take more ’n a
+couple of days. We can’t do much on the round-up without you. I’m short
+of boys.”
+
+That ended the conversation. Stillwell immediately began to hitch up his
+team, and the cowboys went out to fetch their strayed horses. Madeline
+had been curiously interested, and she saw that Florence knew it.
+
+“Things happen, Miss Hammond,” she said, soberly, almost sadly.
+
+Madeline thought. And then straightway Florence began brightly to hum a
+tune and to busy herself repacking what was left of the lunch. Madeline
+conceived a strong liking and respect for this Western girl. She admired
+the consideration or delicacy or wisdom—what-ever it was—which kept
+Florence from asking her what she knew or thought or felt about the
+events that had taken place.
+
+Soon they were once more bowling along the road down a gradual incline,
+and then they began to climb a long ridge that had for hours hidden what
+lay beyond. That climb was rather tiresome, owing to the sun and the
+dust and the restricted view.
+
+When they reached the summit Madeline gave a little gasp of pleasure. A
+deep, gray, smooth valley opened below and sloped up on the other side
+in little ridges like waves, and these led to the foothills, dotted with
+clumps of brush or trees, and beyond rose dark mountains, pine-fringed
+and crag-spired.
+
+“Wal, Miss Majesty, now we’re gettin’ somewhere,” said Stillwell,
+cracking his whip. “Ten miles across this valley an’ we’ll be in the
+foothills where the Apaches used to run.”
+
+“Ten miles!” exclaimed Madeline. “It looks no more than half a mile to
+me.”
+
+“Wal, young woman, before you go to ridin’ off alone you want to get
+your eyes corrected to Western distance. Now, what’d you call them black
+things off there on the slope?”
+
+“Horsemen. No, cattle,” replied Madeline, doubtfully.
+
+“Nope. Jest plain, every-day cactus. An’ over hyar—look down the
+valley. Somethin’ of a pretty forest, ain’t thet?” he asked, pointing.
+
+Madeline saw a beautiful forest in the center of the valley toward the
+south.
+
+“Wal, Miss Majesty, thet’s jest this deceivin’ air. There’s no forest.
+It’s a mirage.”
+
+“Indeed! How beautiful it is!” Madeline strained her gaze on the dark
+blot, and it seemed to float in the atmosphere, to have no clearly
+defined margins, to waver and shimmer, and then it faded and vanished.
+
+The mountains dropped down again behind the horizon, and presently the
+road began once more to slope up. The horses slowed to a walk. There was
+a mile of rolling ridge, and then came the foothills. The road ascended
+through winding valleys. Trees and brush and rocks began to appear in
+the dry ravines. There was no water, yet all along the sandy washes were
+indications of floods at some periods. The heat and the dust stifled
+Madeline, and she had already become tired. Still she looked with all
+her eyes and saw birds, and beautiful quail with crests, and rabbits,
+and once she saw a deer.
+
+“Miss Majesty,” said Stillwell, “in the early days the Indians made this
+country a bad one to live in. I reckon you never heerd much about them
+times. Surely you was hardly born then. I’ll hev to tell you some day
+how I fought Comanches in the Panhandle—thet was northern Texas—an’ I
+had some mighty hair-raisin’ scares in this country with Apaches.”
+
+He told her about Cochise, chief of the Chiricahua Apaches, the most
+savage and bloodthirsty tribe that ever made life a horror for the
+pioneer. Cochise befriended the whites once; but he was the victim of
+that friendliness, and he became the most implacable of foes. Then,
+Geronimo, another Apache chief, had, as late as 1885, gone on the
+war-path, and had left a bloody trail down the New Mexico and Arizona
+line almost to the border. Lone ranchmen and cowboys had been killed,
+and mothers had shot their children and then themselves at the approach
+of the Apache. The name Apache curdled the blood of any woman of the
+Southwest in those days.
+
+Madeline shuddered, and was glad when the old frontiersman changed
+the subject and began to talk of the settling of that country by the
+Spaniards, the legends of lost gold-mines handed down to the Mexicans,
+and strange stories of heroism and mystery and religion. The Mexicans
+had not advanced much in spite of the spread of civilization to the
+Southwest. They were still superstitious, and believed the legends of
+treasures hidden in the walls of their missions, and that unseen hands
+rolled rocks down the gullies upon the heads of prospectors who dared to
+hunt for the lost mines of the padres.
+
+“Up in the mountains back of my ranch there’s a lost mine,” said
+Stillwell. “Mebbe it’s only a legend. But somehow I believe it’s there.
+Other lost mines hev been found. An’ as fer’ the rollin’ stones, I sure
+know thet’s true, as any one can find out if he goes trailin’ up the
+gulch. Mebbe thet’s only the weatherin’ of the cliffs. It’s a sleepy,
+strange country, this Southwest, an’, Miss Majesty, you’re a-goin’ to
+love it. You’ll call it ro-mantic, Wal, I reckon ro-mantic is correct. A
+feller gets lazy out hyar an’ dreamy, an’ he wants to put off work till
+to-morrow. Some folks say it’s a land of manana—a land of to-morrow.
+Thet’s the Mexican of it.
+
+“But I like best to think of what a lady said to me onct—an eddicated
+lady like you, Miss Majesty. Wal, she said it’s a land where it’s always
+afternoon. I liked thet. I always get up sore in the mawnin’s, an’ don’t
+feel good till noon. But in the afternoon I get sorta warm an’ like
+things. An’ sunset is my time. I reckon I don’t want nothin’ any finer
+than sunset from my ranch. You look out over a valley that spreads wide
+between Guadalupe Mountains an’ the Chiricahuas, down across the red
+Arizona desert clear to the Sierra Madres in Mexico. Two hundred miles,
+Miss Majesty! An’ all as clear as print! An’ the sun sets behind all
+thet! When my time comes to die I’d like it to be on my porch smokin’ my
+pipe an’ facin’ the west.”
+
+So the old cattleman talked on while Madeline listened, and Florence
+dozed in her seat, and the sun began to wane, and the horses climbed
+steadily. Presently, at the foot of the steep ascent, Stillwell got out
+and walked, leading the team. During this long climb fatigue claimed
+Madeline, and she drowsily closed her eyes, to find when she opened them
+again that the glaring white sky had changed to a steel-blue. The sun
+had sunk behind the foothills and the air was growing chilly. Stillwell
+had returned to the driving-seat and was chuckling to the horses.
+Shadows crept up out of the hollows.
+
+“Wal, Flo,” said Stillwell, “I reckon we’d better hev the rest of thet
+there lunch before dark.”
+
+“You didn’t leave much of it,” laughed Florence, as she produced the
+basket from under the seat.
+
+While they ate, the short twilight shaded and gloom filled the hollows.
+Madeline saw the first star, a faint, winking point of light. The sky
+had now changed to a hazy gray. Madeline saw it gradually clear and
+darken, to show other faint stars. After that there was perceptible
+deepening of the gray and an enlarging of the stars and a brightening of
+new-born ones. Night seemed to come on the cold wind. Madeline was glad
+to have the robes close around her and to lean against Florence. The
+hollows were now black, but the tops of the foothills gleamed pale in
+a soft light. The steady tramp of the horses went on, and the creak of
+wheels and crunching of gravel. Madeline grew so sleepy that she could
+not keep her weary eyelids from falling. There were drowsier spells in
+which she lost a feeling of where she was, and these were disturbed by
+the jolt of wheels over a rough place. Then came a blank interval, short
+or long, which ended in a more violent lurch of the buckboard. Madeline
+awoke to find her head on Florence’s shoulder. She sat up laughing and
+apologizing for her laziness. Florence assured her they would soon reach
+the ranch.
+
+Madeline observed then that the horses were once more trotting. The wind
+was colder, the night darker, the foot-hills flatter. And the sky was
+now a wonderful deep velvet-blue blazing with millions of stars. Some
+of them were magnificent. How strangely white and alive! Again Madeline
+felt the insistence of familiar yet baffling associations. These white
+stars called strangely to her or haunted her.
+
+
+
+
+V. The Round-Up
+
+
+It was a crackling and roaring of fire that awakened Madeline next
+morning, and the first thing she saw was a huge stone fireplace in which
+lay a bundle of blazing sticks. Some one had kindled a fire while she
+slept. For a moment the curious sensation of being lost returned to her.
+She just dimly remembered reaching the ranch and being taken into a huge
+house and a huge, dimly lighted room. And it seemed to her that she had
+gone to sleep at once, and had awakened without remembering how she had
+gotten to bed.
+
+But she was wide awake in an instant. The bed stood near one end of an
+enormous chamber. The adobe walls resembled a hall in an ancient feudal
+castle, stone-floored, stone-walled, with great darkened rafters running
+across the ceiling. The few articles of furniture were worn out and
+sadly dilapidated. Light flooded into the room from two windows on the
+right of the fireplace and two on the left, and another large window
+near the bedstead. Looking out from where she lay, Madeline saw a dark,
+slow up-sweep of mountain. Her eyes returned to the cheery, snapping
+fire, and she watched it while gathering courage to get up. The room was
+cold. When she did slip her bare feet out upon the stone floor she very
+quickly put them back under the warm blankets. And she was still in
+bed trying to pluck up her courage when, with a knock on the door and a
+cheerful greeting, Florence entered, carrying steaming hot water.
+
+“Good mawnin’, Miss Hammond. Hope you slept well. You sure were tired
+last night. I imagine you’ll find this old rancho house as cold as a
+barn. It’ll warm up directly. Al’s gone with the boys and Bill. We’re to
+ride down on the range after a while when your baggage comes.”
+
+Florence wore a woolen blouse with a scarf round her neck, a
+short corduroy divided skirt, and boots; and while she talked she
+energetically heaped up the burning wood in the fireplace, and laid
+Madeline’s clothes at the foot of the bed, and heated a rug and put that
+on the floor by the bedside. And lastly, with a sweet, direct smile, she
+said:
+
+“Al told me—and I sure saw myself—that you weren’t used to being
+without your maid. Will you let me help you?”
+
+“Thank you, I am going to be my own maid for a while. I expect I do
+appear a very helpless individual, but really I do not feel so. Perhaps
+I have had just a little too much waiting on.”
+
+“All right. Breakfast will be ready soon, and after that we’ll look
+about the place.”
+
+Madeline was charmed with the old Spanish house, and the more she saw of
+it the more she thought what a delightful home it could be made. All
+the doors opened into a courtyard, or patio, as Florence called it. The
+house was low, in the shape of a rectangle, and so immense in size that
+Madeline wondered if it had been a Spanish barracks. Many of the rooms
+were dark, without windows, and they were empty. Others were full of
+ranchers’ implements and sacks of grain and bales of hay. Florence
+called these last alfalfa. The house itself appeared strong and well
+preserved, and it was very picturesque. But in the living-rooms were
+only the barest necessities, and these were worn out and comfortless.
+
+However, when Madeline went outdoors she forgot the cheerless, bare
+interior. Florence led the way out on a porch and waved a hand at a
+vast, colored void. “That’s what Bill likes,” she said.
+
+At first Madeline could not tell what was sky and what was land. The
+immensity of the scene stunned her faculties of conception. She sat down
+in one of the old rocking-chairs and looked and looked, and knew that
+she was not grasping the reality of what stretched wondrously before
+her.
+
+“We’re up at the edge of the foothills,” Florence said. “You remember we
+rode around the northern end of the mountain range? Well, that’s behind
+us now, and you look down across the line into Arizona and Mexico. That
+long slope of gray is the head of the San Bernardino Valley. Straight
+across you see the black Chiricahua Mountains, and away down to the
+south the Guadalupe Mountains. That awful red gulf between is the
+desert, and far, far beyond the dim, blue peaks are the Sierra Madres in
+Mexico.”
+
+Madeline listened and gazed with straining eyes, and wondered if this
+was only a stupendous mirage, and why it seemed so different from all
+else that she had seen, and so endless, so baffling, so grand.
+
+“It’ll sure take you a little while to get used to being up high and
+seeing so much,” explained Florence. “That’s the secret—we’re up high,
+the air is clear, and there’s the whole bare world beneath us. Don’t
+it somehow rest you? Well, it will. Now see those specks in the valley.
+They are stations, little towns. The railroad goes down that way. The
+largest speck is Chiricahua. It’s over forty miles by trail. Here round
+to the north you can see Don Carlos’s rancho. He’s fifteen miles off,
+and I sure wish he were a thousand. That little green square about
+half-way between here and Don Carlos—that’s Al’s ranch. Just below us
+are the adobe houses of the Mexicans. There’s a church, too. And here to
+the left you see Stillwell’s corrals and bunk-houses and his stables all
+falling to pieces. The ranch has gone to ruin. All the ranches are going
+to ruin. But most of them are little one-horse affairs. And here—see
+that cloud of dust down in the valley? It’s the round-up. The boys are
+there, and the cattle. Wait, I’ll get the glasses.”
+
+By their aid Madeline saw in the foreground a great, dense herd of
+cattle with dark, thick streams and dotted lines of cattle leading in
+every direction. She saw streaks and clouds of dust, running horses, and
+a band of horses grazing; and she descried horsemen standing still like
+sentinels, and others in action.
+
+“The round-up! I want to know all about it—to see it,” declared
+Madeline. “Please tell me what it means, what it’s for, and then take me
+down there.”
+
+“It’s sure a sight, Miss Hammond. I’ll be glad to take you down, but I
+fancy you’ll not want to go close. Few Eastern people who regularly eat
+their choice cuts of roast beef and porterhouse have any idea of the
+open range and the struggle cattle have to live and the hard life of
+cowboys. It’ll sure open your eyes, Miss Hammond. I’m glad you care to
+know. Your brother would have made a big success in this cattle business
+if it hadn’t been for crooked work by rival ranchers. He’ll make it yet,
+in spite of them.”
+
+“Indeed he shall,” replied Madeline. “But tell me, please, all about the
+round-up.”
+
+“Well, in the first place, every cattleman has to have a brand to
+identify his stock. Without it no cattleman, nor half a hundred cowboys,
+if he had so many, could ever recognize all the cattle in a big herd.
+There are no fences on our ranges. They are all open to everybody. Some
+day I hope we’ll be rich enough to fence a range. The different herds
+graze together. Every calf has to be caught, if possible, and branded
+with the mark of its mother. That’s no easy job. A maverick is an
+unbranded calf that has been weaned and shifts for itself. The maverick
+then belongs to the man who finds it and brands it. These little calves
+that lose their mothers sure have a cruel time of it. Many of them die.
+Then the coyotes and wolves and lions prey on them. Every year we have
+two big round-ups, but the boys do some branding all the year. A calf
+should be branded as soon as it’s found. This is a safeguard against
+cattle-thieves. We don’t have the rustling of herds and bunches of
+cattle like we used to. But there’s always the calf-thief, and always
+will be as long as there’s cattle-raising. The thieves have a good many
+cunning tricks. They kill the calf’s mother or slit the calf’s tongue
+so it can’t suck and so loses its mother. They steal and hide a calf
+and watch it till it’s big enough to fare for itself, and then brand it.
+They make imperfect brands and finish them at a later time.
+
+“We have our big round-up in the fall, when there’s plenty of grass and
+water, and all the riding-stock as well as the cattle are in fine shape.
+The cattlemen in the valley meet with their cowboys and drive in all the
+cattle they can find. Then they brand and cut out each man’s herd
+and drive it toward home. Then they go on up or down the valley, make
+another camp, and drive in more cattle. It takes weeks. There are
+so many Greasers with little bands of stock, and they are crafty and
+greedy. Bill says he knows Greaser cowboys, vaqueros, who never owned
+a steer or a cow, and now they’ve got growing herds. The same might be
+said of more than one white cowboy. But there’s not as much of that as
+there used to be.”
+
+“And the horses? I want to know about them,” said Madeline, when
+Florence paused.
+
+“Oh, the cow-ponies! Well, they sure are interesting. Broncos, the boys
+call them. Wild! they’re wilder than the steers they have to chase.
+Bill’s got broncos heah that never have been broken and never will be.
+And not every boy can ride them, either. The vaqueros have the finest
+horses. Don Carlos has a black that I’d give anything to own. And he
+has other fine stock. Gene Stewart’s big roan is a Mexican horse, the
+swiftest and proudest I ever saw. I was up on him once and—oh, he can
+run! He likes a woman, too, and that’s sure something I want in a horse.
+I heard Al and Bill talking at breakfast about a horse for you. They
+were wrangling. Bill wanted you to have one, and Al another. It was
+funny to hear them. Finally they left the choice to me, until the
+round-up is over. Then I suppose every cowboy on the range will offer
+you his best mount. Come, let’s go out to the corrals and look over the
+few horses left.”
+
+For Madeline the morning hours flew by, with a goodly part of the time
+spent on the porch gazing out over that ever-changing vista. At noon
+a teamster drove up with her trunks. Then while Florence helped the
+Mexican woman get lunch Madeline unpacked part of her effects and got
+out things for which she would have immediate need. After lunch she
+changed her dress for a riding-habit and, going outside, found Florence
+waiting with the horses.
+
+The Western girl’s clear eyes seemed to take stock of Madeline’s
+appearance in one swift, inquisitive glance and then shone with
+pleasure.
+
+“You sure look—you’re a picture, Miss Hammond. That riding-outfit is
+a new one. What it ’d look like on me or another woman I can’t imagine,
+but on you it’s—it’s stunning. Bill won’t let you go within a mile of
+the cowboys. If they see you that’ll be the finish of the round-up.”
+
+While they rode down the slope Florence talked about the open ranges of
+New Mexico and Arizona.
+
+“Water is scarce,” she said. “If Bill could afford to pipe water down
+from the mountains he’d have the finest ranch in the valley.”
+
+She went on to tell that the climate was mild in winter and hot in
+summer. Warm, sunshiny days prevailed nearly all the year round. Some
+summers it rained, and occasionally there would be a dry year, the
+dreaded ano seco of the Mexicans. Rain was always expected and prayed
+for in the midsummer months, and when it came the grama-grass sprang
+up, making the valleys green from mountain to mountain. The intersecting
+valleys, ranging between the long slope of foothills, afforded the best
+pasture for cattle, and these were jealously sought by the Mexicans
+who had only small herds to look after. Stillwell’s cowboys were always
+chasing these vaqueros off land that belonged to Stillwell. He owned
+twenty thousand acres of unfenced land adjoining the open range. Don
+Carlos possessed more acreage than that, and his cattle were always
+mingling with Stillwell’s. And in turn Don Carlos’s vaqueros were always
+chasing Stillwell’s cattle away from the Mexican’s watering-place. Bad
+feeling had been manifested for years, and now relations were strained
+to the breaking-point.
+
+As Madeline rode along she made good use of her eyes. The soil was
+sandy and porous, and she understood why the rain and water from the
+few springs disappeared so quickly. At a little distance the grama-grass
+appeared thick, but near at hand it was seen to be sparse. Bunches of
+greasewood and cactus plants were interspersed here and there in
+the grass. What surprised Madeline was the fact that, though she and
+Florence had seemed to be riding quite awhile, they had apparently not
+drawn any closer to the round-up. The slope of the valley was noticeable
+only after some miles had been traversed. Looking forward, Madeline
+imagined the valley only a few miles wide. She would have been sure she
+could walk her horse across it in an hour. Yet that black, bold range
+of Chiricahua Mountains was distant a long day’s journey for even a
+hard-riding cowboy. It was only by looking back that Madeline could
+grasp the true relation of things; she could not be deceived by distance
+she had covered.
+
+Gradually the black dots enlarged and assumed shape of cattle and horses
+moving round a great dusty patch. In another half-hour Madeline rode
+behind Florence to the outskirts of the scene of action. They drew rein
+near a huge wagon in the neighborhood of which were more than a hundred
+horses grazing and whistling and trotting about and lifting heads to
+watch the new-comers. Four cowboys stood mounted guard over this drove
+of horses. Perhaps a quarter of a mile farther out was a dusty melee.
+A roar of tramping hoofs filled Madeline’s ears. The lines of marching
+cattle had merged into a great, moving herd half obscured by dust.
+
+“I can make little of what is going on,” said Madeline. “I want to go
+closer.”
+
+They trotted across half the intervening distance, and when Florence
+halted again Madeline was still not satisfied and asked to be taken
+nearer. This time, before they reined in again, Al Hammond saw them and
+wheeled his horse in their direction. He yelled something which Madeline
+did not understand, and then halted them.
+
+“Close enough,” he called; and in the din his voice was not very clear.
+“It’s not safe. Wild steers! I’m glad you came, girls. Majesty, what do
+you think of that bunch of cattle?”
+
+Madeline could scarcely reply what she thought, for the noise and dust
+and ceaseless action confused her.
+
+“They’re milling, Al,” said Florence.
+
+“We just rounded them up. They’re milling, and that’s bad. The vaqueros
+are hard drivers. They beat us all hollow, and we drove some, too.” He
+was wet with sweat, black with dust, and out of breath. “I’m off now.
+Flo, my sister will have enough of this in about two minutes. Take her
+back to the wagon. I’ll tell Bill you’re here, and run in whenever I get
+a minute.”
+
+The bawling and bellowing, the crackling of horns and pounding of hoofs,
+the dusty whirl of cattle, and the flying cowboys disconcerted Madeline
+and frightened her a little; but she was intensely interested and meant
+to stay there until she saw for herself what that strife of sound and
+action meant. When she tried to take in the whole scene she did not make
+out anything clearly and she determined to see it little by little.
+
+“Will you stay longer?” asked Florence; and, receiving an affirmative
+reply, she warned Madeline: “If a runaway steer or angry cow comes this
+way let your horse go. He’ll get out of the way.”
+
+That lent the situation excitement, and Madeline became absorbed. The
+great mass of cattle seemed to be eddying like a whirlpool, and from
+that Madeline understood the significance of the range word “milling.”
+ But when Madeline looked at one end of the herd she saw cattle standing
+still, facing outward, and calves cringing close in fear. The motion
+of the cattle slowed from the inside of the herd to the outside and
+gradually ceased. The roar and tramp of hoofs and crack of horns and
+thump of heads also ceased in degree, but the bawling and bellowing
+continued. While she watched, the herd spread, grew less dense, and
+stragglers appeared to be about to bolt through the line of mounted
+cowboys.
+
+From that moment so many things happened, and so swiftly, that Madeline
+could not see a tenth of what was going on within eyesight. It seemed
+horsemen darted into the herd and drove out cattle. Madeline pinned her
+gaze on one cowboy who rode a white horse and was chasing a steer. He
+whirled a lasso around his head and threw it; the rope streaked out
+and the loop caught the leg of the steer. The white horse stopped with
+wonderful suddenness, and the steer slid in the dust. Quick as a flash
+the cowboy was out of the saddle, and, grasping the legs of the steer
+before it could rise, he tied them with a rope. It had all been done
+almost as quickly as thought. Another man came with what Madeline
+divined was a branding-iron. He applied it to the flank of the steer.
+Then it seemed the steer was up with a jump, wildly looking for some way
+to run, and the cowboy was circling his lasso. Madeline saw fires in the
+background, with a man in charge, evidently heating the irons. Then this
+same cowboy roped a heifer which bawled lustily when the hot iron seared
+its hide. Madeline saw the smoke rising from the touch of the iron,
+and the sight made her shrink and want to turn away, but she resolutely
+fought her sensitiveness. She had never been able to bear the sight of
+any animal suffering. The rough work in men’s lives was as a sealed book
+to her; and now, for some reason beyond her knowledge, she wanted to
+see and hear and learn some of the every-day duties that made up those
+lives.
+
+“Look, Miss Hammond, there’s Don Carlos!” said Florence. “Look at that
+black horse!”
+
+Madeleine saw a dark-faced Mexican riding by. He was too far away for
+her to distinguish his features, but he reminded her of an Italian
+brigand. He bestrode a magnificent horse.
+
+Stillwell rode up to the girls then and greeted them in his big voice.
+
+“Right in the thick of it, hey? Wal, thet’s sure fine. I’m glad to see,
+Miss Majesty, thet you ain’t afraid of a little dust or smell of burnin’
+hide an’ hair.”
+
+“Couldn’t you brand the calves without hurting them?” asked Madeline.
+
+“Haw, haw! Why, they ain’t hurt none. They jest bawl for their mammas.
+Sometimes, though, we hev to hurt one jest to find which is his mamma.”
+
+“I want to know how you tell what brand to put on those calves that are
+separated from their mothers,” asked Madeline.
+
+“Thet’s decided by the round-up bosses. I’ve one boss an’ Don Carlos
+has one. They decide everything, an’ they hev to be obyed. There’s Nick
+Steele, my boss. Watch him! He’s ridin’ a bay in among the cattle there.
+He orders the calves an’ steers to be cut out. Then the cowboys do the
+cuttin’ out an’ the brandin’. We try to divide up the mavericks as near
+as possible.”
+
+At this juncture Madeline’s brother joined the group, evidently in
+search of Stillwell.
+
+“Bill, Nels just rode in,” he said.
+
+“Good! We sure need him. Any news of Danny Mains?”
+
+“No. Nels said he lost the trail when he got on hard ground.”
+
+“Wal, wal. Say, Al, your sister is sure takin’ to the round-up. An’ the
+boys are gettin’ wise. See thet sun-of-a-gun Ambrose cuttin’ capers
+all around. He’ll sure do his prettiest. Ambrose is a ladies’ man, he
+thinks.”
+
+The two men and Florence joined in a little pleasant teasing of
+Madeline, and drew her attention to what appeared to be really
+unnecessary feats of horsemanship all made in her vicinity. The cowboys
+evinced their interest in covert glances while recoiling a lasso or
+while passing to and fro. It was all too serious for Madeline to be
+amused at that moment. She did not care to talk. She sat her horse and
+watched.
+
+The lithe, dark vaqueros fascinated her. They were here, there,
+everywhere, with lariats flying, horses plunging back, jerking calves
+and yearlings to the grass. They were cruel to their mounts, cruel to
+their cattle. Madeline winced as the great silver rowels of the spurs
+went plowing into the flanks of their horses. She saw these spurs
+stained with blood, choked with hair. She saw the vaqueros break the
+legs of calves and let them lie till a white cowboy came along and shot
+them. Calves were jerked down and dragged many yards; steers were pulled
+by one leg. These vaqueros were the most superb horsemen Madeline had
+ever seen, and she had seen the Cossacks and Tatars of the Russian
+steppes. They were swift, graceful, daring; they never failed to catch
+a running steer, and the lassoes always went true. What sharp dashes
+the horses made, and wheelings here and there, and sudden stops, and how
+they braced themselves to withstand the shock!
+
+The cowboys, likewise, showed wonderful horsemanship, and, reckless as
+they were, Madeline imagined she saw consideration for steed and cattle
+that was wanting in the vaqueros. They changed mounts oftener than the
+Mexican riders, and the horses they unsaddled for fresh ones were not so
+spent, so wet, so covered with lather. It was only after an hour or more
+of observation that Madeline began to realize the exceedingly toilsome
+and dangerous work cowboys had to perform. There was little or no rest
+for them. They were continually among wild and vicious and wide-horned
+steers. In many instances they owed their lives to their horses. The
+danger came mostly when the cowboy leaped off to tie and brand a calf he
+had thrown. Some of the cows charged with lowered, twisting horns. Time
+and again Madeline’s heart leaped to her throat for fear a man would be
+gored. One cowboy roped a calf that bawled loudly. Its mother dashed in
+and just missed the kneeling cowboy as he rolled over. Then he had to
+run, and he could not run very fast. He was bow-legged and appeared
+awkward. Madeline saw another cowboy thrown and nearly run over by a
+plunging steer. His horse bolted as if it intended to leave the range.
+Then close by Madeline a big steer went down at the end of a lasso.
+The cowboy who had thrown it nimbly jumped down, and at that moment his
+horse began to rear and prance and suddenly to lower his head close to
+the ground and kick high. He ran round in a circle, the fallen steer on
+the taut lasso acting as a pivot. The cowboy loosed the rope from the
+steer, and then was dragged about on the grass. It was almost frightful
+for Madeline to see that cowboy go at his horse. But she recognized the
+mastery and skill. Then two horses came into collision on the run. One
+horse went down; the rider of the other was unseated and was kicked
+before he could get up. This fellow limped to his mount and struck at
+him, while the horse showed his teeth in a vicious attempt to bite.
+
+All the while this ceaseless activity was going on there was a strange
+uproar—bawl and bellow, the shock of heavy bodies meeting and falling,
+the shrill jabbering of the vaqueros, and the shouts and banterings of
+the cowboys. They took sharp orders and replied in jest. They went about
+this stern toil as if it were a game to be played in good humor. One
+sang a rollicking song, another whistled, another smoked a cigarette.
+The sun was hot, and they, like their horses, were dripping with sweat.
+The characteristic red faces had taken on so much dust that cowboys
+could not be distinguished from vaqueros except by the difference in
+dress. Blood was not wanting on tireless hands. The air was thick,
+oppressive, rank with the smell of cattle and of burning hide.
+
+Madeline began to sicken. She choked with dust, was almost stifled
+by the odor. But that made her all the more determined to stay there.
+Florence urged her to come away, or at least move back out of the
+worst of it. Stillwell seconded Florence. Madeline, however, smilingly
+refused. Then her brother said: “Here, this is making you sick. You’re
+pale.” And she replied that she intended to stay until the day’s work
+ended. Al gave her a strange look, and made no more comment. The kindly
+Stillwell then began to talk.
+
+“Miss Majesty, you’re seein’ the life of the cattleman an’ cowboy—the
+real thing—same as it was in the early days. The ranchers in Texas an’
+some in Arizona hev took on style, new-fangled idees thet are good,
+an’ I wish we could follow them. But we’ve got to stick to the
+old-fashioned, open-range round-up. It looks cruel to you, I can see
+thet. Wal, mebbe so, mebbe so. Them Greasers are cruel, thet’s certain.
+Fer thet matter, I never seen a Greaser who wasn’t cruel. But I reckon
+all the strenuous work you’ve seen to-day ain’t any tougher than most
+any day of a cowboy’s life. Long hours on hossback, poor grub, sleepin’
+on the ground, lonesome watches, dust an’ sun an’ wind an’ thirst, day
+in an’ day out all the year round—thet’s what a cowboy has.
+
+“Look at Nels there. See, what little hair he has is snow-white. He’s
+red an’ thin an’ hard—burned up. You notice thet hump of his shoulders.
+An’ his hands, when he gets close—jest take a peep at his hands. Nels
+can’t pick up a pin. He can’t hardly button his shirt or untie a knot in
+his rope. He looks sixty years—an old man. Wal, Nels ‘ain’t seen forty.
+He’s a young man, but he’s seen a lifetime fer every year. Miss Majesty,
+it was Arizona thet made Nels what he is, the Arizona desert an’ the
+work of a cowman. He’s seen ridin’ at Canyon Diablo an’ the Verdi an’
+Tonto Basin. He knows every mile of Aravaipa Valley an’ the Pinaleno
+country. He’s ranged from Tombstone to Douglas. He hed shot bad white
+men an’ bad Greasers before he was twenty-one. He’s seen some life, Nels
+has. My sixty years ain’t nothin’; my early days in the Staked Plains
+an’ on the border with Apaches ain’t nothin’ to what Nels has seen an’
+lived through. He’s just come to be part of the desert; you might say
+he’s stone an’ fire an’ silence an’ cactus an’ force. He’s a man, Miss
+Majesty, a wonderful man. Rough he’ll seem to you. Wal, I’ll show you
+pieces of quartz from the mountains back of my ranch an’ they’re thet
+rough they’d cut your hands. But there’s pure gold in them. An’ so it is
+with Nels an’ many of these cowboys.
+
+“An’ there’s Price—Monty Price. Monty stands fer Montana, where he
+hails from. Take a good look at him, Miss Majesty. He’s been hurt, I
+reckon. Thet accounts fer him bein’ without hoss or rope; an’ thet limp.
+Wal, he’s been ripped a little. It’s sure rare an seldom thet a cowboy
+gets foul of one of them thousands of sharp horns; but it does happen.”
+
+Madeline saw a very short, wizened little man, ludicrously bow-legged,
+with a face the color and hardness of a burned-out cinder. He was
+hobbling by toward the wagon, and one of his short, crooked legs
+dragged.
+
+“Not much to look at, is he?” went on Stillwell. “Wal; I know it’s
+natural thet we’re all best pleased by good looks in any one, even a
+man. It hedn’t ought to be thet way. Monty Price looks like hell. But
+appearances are sure deceivin’. Monty saw years of ridin’ along the
+Missouri bottoms, the big prairies, where there’s high grass an’
+sometimes fires. In Montana they have blizzards that freeze cattle
+standin’ in their tracks. An’ hosses freeze to death. They tell me thet
+a drivin’ sleet in the face with the mercury forty below is somethin’ to
+ride against. You can’t get Monty to say much about cold. All you hev
+to do is to watch him, how he hunts the sun. It never gets too hot fer
+Monty. Wal, I reckon he was a little more prepossessin’ once. The story
+thet come to us about Monty is this: He got caught out in a prairie fire
+an’ could hev saved himself easy, but there was a lone ranch right in
+the line of fire, an’ Monty knowed the rancher was away, an’ his wife
+an’ baby was home. He knowed, too, the way the wind was, thet the
+ranch-house would burn. It was a long chance he was takin’. But he went
+over, put the woman up behind him, wrapped the baby an’ his hoss’s haid
+in a wet blanket, an’ rode away. Thet was sure some ride, I’ve heerd.
+But the fire ketched Monty at the last. The woman fell an’ was lost,
+an’ then his hoss. An’ Monty ran an’ walked an’ crawled through the fire
+with thet baby, an’ he saved it. Monty was never much good as a cowboy
+after thet. He couldn’t hold no jobs. Wal, he’ll have one with me as
+long as I have a steer left.”
+
+
+
+
+VI. A Gift and A Purchase
+
+
+For a week the scene of the round-up lay within riding-distance of
+the ranch-house, and Madeline passed most of this time in the saddle,
+watching the strenuous labors of the vaqueros and cowboys. She
+overestimated her strength, and more than once had to be lifted from her
+horse. Stillwell’s pleasure in her attendance gave place to concern. He
+tried to persuade her to stay away from the round-up, and Florence grew
+even more solicitous.
+
+Madeline, however, was not moved by their entreaties. She grasped only
+dimly the truth of what it was she was learning—something infinitely
+more than the rounding up of cattle by cowboys, and she was loath to
+lose an hour of her opportunity.
+
+Her brother looked out for her as much as his duties permitted; but for
+several days he never once mentioned her growing fatigue and the strain
+of excitement, or suggested that she had better go back to the house
+with Florence. Many times she felt the drawing power of his keen blue
+eyes on her face. And at these moments she sensed more than brotherly
+regard. He was watching her, studying her, weighing her, and the
+conviction was vaguely disturbing. It was disquieting for Madeline to
+think that Alfred might have guessed her trouble. From time to time
+he brought cowboys to her and introduced them, and laughed and jested,
+trying to make the ordeal less embarrassing for these men so little used
+to women.
+
+Before the week was out, however, Alfred found occasion to tell her that
+it would be wiser for her to let the round-up go on without gracing it
+further with her presence. He said it laughingly; nevertheless, he was
+serious. And when Madeline turned to him in surprise he said, bluntly:
+
+“I don’t like the way Don Carlos follows you around. Bill’s afraid
+that Nels or Ambrose or one of the cowboys will take a fall out of the
+Mexican. They’re itching for the chance. Of course, dear, it’s absurd to
+you, but it’s true.”
+
+Absurd it certainly was, yet it served to show Madeline how intensely
+occupied she had been with her own feelings, roused by the tumult and
+toil of the round-up. She recalled that Don Carlos had been presented to
+her, and that she had not liked his dark, striking face with its bold,
+prominent, glittering eyes and sinister lines; and she had not liked his
+suave, sweet, insinuating voice or his subtle manner, with its slow
+bows and gestures. She had thought he looked handsome and dashing on
+the magnificent black horse. However, now that Alfred’s words made her
+think, she recalled that wherever she had been in the field the noble
+horse, with his silver-mounted saddle and his dark rider, had been
+always in her vicinity.
+
+“Don Carlos has been after Florence for a long time,” said Alfred. “He’s
+not a young man by any means. He’s fifty, Bill says; but you can seldom
+tell a Mexican’s age from his looks. Don Carlos is well educated and a
+man we know very little about. Mexicans of his stamp don’t regard women
+as we white men do. Now, my dear, beautiful sister from New York, I
+haven’t much use for Don Carlos; but I don’t want Nels or Ambrose to
+make a wild throw with a rope and pull the Don off his horse. So you had
+better ride up to the house and stay there.”
+
+“Alfred, you are joking, teasing me,” said Madeline. “Indeed not,”
+ replied Alfred. “How about it, Flo?” Florence replied that the cowboys
+would upon the slightest provocation treat Don Carlos with less ceremony
+and gentleness than a roped steer. Old Bill Stillwell came up to be
+importuned by Alfred regarding the conduct of cowboys on occasion, and
+he not only corroborated the assertion, but added emphasis and evidence
+of his own.
+
+“An’, Miss Majesty,” he concluded, “I reckon if Gene Stewart was ridin’
+fer me, thet grinnin’ Greaser would hev hed a bump in the dust before
+now.”
+
+Madeline had been wavering between sobriety and laughter until
+Stillwell’s mention of his ideal of cowboy chivalry decided in favor of
+the laughter.
+
+“I am not convinced, but I surrender,” she said. “You have only some
+occult motive for driving me away. I am sure that handsome Don Carlos
+is being unjustly suspected. But as I have seen a little of cowboys’
+singular imagination and gallantry, I am rather inclined to fear their
+possibilities. So good-by.”
+
+Then she rode with Florence up the long, gray slope to the ranch-house.
+That night she suffered from excessive weariness, which she attributed
+more to the strange working of her mind than to riding and sitting her
+horse. Morning, however, found her in no disposition to rest. It was
+not activity that she craved, or excitement, or pleasure. An unerring
+instinct, rising dear from the thronging sensations of the last few
+days, told her that she had missed something in life. It could not have
+been love, for she loved brother, sister, parents, friends; it could not
+have been consideration for the poor, the unfortunate, the hapless; she
+had expressed her sympathy for these by giving freely; it could not have
+been pleasure, culture, travel, society, wealth, position, fame, for
+these had been hers all her life. Whatever this something was, she
+had baffling intimations of it, hopes that faded on the verge of
+realizations, haunting promises that were unfulfilled. Whatever it was,
+it had remained hidden and unknown at home, and here in the West it
+began to allure and drive her to discovery. Therefore she could not
+rest; she wanted to go and see; she was no longer chasing phantoms; it
+was a hunt for treasure that held aloof, as intangible as the substance
+of dreams.
+
+That morning she spoke a desire to visit the Mexican quarters lying at
+the base of the foothills. Florence protested that this was no place to
+take Madeline. But Madeline insisted, and it required only a few words
+and a persuading smile to win Florence over.
+
+From the porch the cluster of adobe houses added a picturesque touch of
+color and contrast to the waste of gray valley. Near at hand they proved
+the enchantment lent by distance. They were old, crumbling, broken down,
+squalid. A few goats climbed around upon them; a few mangy dogs barked
+announcement of visitors; and then a troop of half-naked, dirty,
+ragged children ran out. They were very shy, and at first retreated in
+affright. But kind words and smiles gained their confidence, and then
+they followed in a body, gathering a quota of new children at each
+house. Madeline at once conceived the idea of doing something to better
+the condition of these poor Mexicans, and with this in mind she decided
+to have a look indoors. She fancied she might have been an apparition,
+judging from the effect her presence had upon the first woman she
+encountered. While Florence exercised what little Spanish she had
+command of, trying to get the women to talk, Madeline looked about the
+miserable little rooms. And there grew upon her a feeling of sickness,
+which increased as she passed from one house to another. She had not
+believed such squalor could exist anywhere in America. The huts reeked
+with filth; vermin crawled over the dirt floors. There was absolutely no
+evidence of water, and she believed what Florence told her—that these
+people never bathed. There was little evidence of labor. Idle men and
+women smoking cigarettes lolled about, some silent, others jabbering.
+They did not resent the visit of the American women, nor did they show
+hospitality. They appeared stupid. Disease was rampant in these houses;
+when the doors were shut there was no ventilation, and even with the
+doors open Madeline felt choked and stifled. A powerful penetrating odor
+pervaded the rooms that were less stifling than others, and this odor
+Florence explained came from a liquor the Mexicans distilled from
+a cactus plant. Here drunkenness was manifest, a terrible inert
+drunkenness that made its victims deathlike.
+
+Madeline could not extend her visit to the little mission-house. She saw
+a padre, a starved, sad-faced man who, she instinctively felt, was
+good. She managed to mount her horse and ride up to the house; but, once
+there, she weakened and Florence had almost to carry her in-doors. She
+fought off a faintness, only to succumb to it when alone in her room.
+Still, she did not entirely lose consciousness, and soon recovered to
+the extent that she did not require assistance.
+
+Upon the morning after the end of the round-up, when she went out on
+the porch, her brother and Stillwell appeared to be arguing about the
+identity of a horse.
+
+“Wal, I reckon it’s my old roan,” said Stillwell, shading his eyes with
+his hand.
+
+“Bill, if that isn’t Stewart’s horse my eyes are going back on me,”
+ replied Al. “It’s not the color or shape—the distance is too far to
+judge by that. It’s the motion—the swing.”
+
+“Al, mebbe you’re right. But they ain’t no rider up on thet hoss. Flo,
+fetch my glass.”
+
+Florence went into the house, while Madeline tried to discover the
+object of attention. Presently far up the gray hollow along a foothill
+she saw dust, and then the dark, moving figure of a horse. She was
+watching when Florence returned with the glass. Bill took a long look,
+adjusted the glasses carefully, and tried again.
+
+“Wal, I hate to admit my eyes are gettin’ pore. But I guess I’ll hev to.
+Thet’s Gene Stewart’s hoss, saddled, an’ comin’ at a fast clip without
+a rider. It’s amazin’ strange, an’ some in keepin’ with other things
+concernin’ Gene.”
+
+“Give me the glass,” said Al. “Yes, I was right. Bill, the horse is not
+frightened. He’s coming steadily; he’s got something on his mind.”
+
+“Thet’s a trained hoss, Al. He has more sense than some men I know. Take
+a look with the glasses up the hollow. See anybody?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Swing up over the foothills—where the trail leads. Higher—along thet
+ridge where the rocks begin. See anybody?”
+
+“By Jove! Bill—two horses! But I can’t make out much for dust. They are
+climbing fast. One horse gone among the rocks. There—the other’s gone.
+What do you make of that?”
+
+“Wal, I can’t make no more ’n you. But I’ll bet we know somethin’ soon,
+fer Gene’s hoss is comin’ faster as he nears the ranch.”
+
+The wide hollow sloping up into the foothills lay open to unobstructed
+view, and less than half a mile distant Madeline saw the riderless
+horse coming along the white trail at a rapid canter. She watched him,
+recalling the circumstances under which she had first seen him, and then
+his wild flight through the dimly lighted streets of El Cajon out into
+the black night. She thrilled again and believed she would never think
+of that starry night’s adventure without a thrill. She watched the horse
+and felt more than curiosity. A shrill, piercing whistle pealed in.
+
+“Wal, he’s seen us, thet’s sure,” said Bill.
+
+The horse neared the corrals, disappeared into a lane, and then,
+breaking his gait again, thundered into the inclosure and pounded to a
+halt some twenty yards from where Stillwell waited for him.
+
+One look at him at close range in the clear light of day was enough
+for Madeline to award him a blue ribbon over all horses, even her
+prize-winner, White Stockings. The cowboy’s great steed was no lithe,
+slender-bodied mustang. He was a charger, almost tremendous of build,
+with a black coat faintly mottled in gray, and it shone like polished
+glass in the sun. Evidently he had been carefully dressed down for this
+occasion, for there was no dust on him, nor a kink in his beautiful
+mane, nor a mark on his glossy hide.
+
+“Come hyar, you son-of-a-gun,” said Stillwell.
+
+The horse dropped his head, snorted, and came obediently up. He was
+neither shy nor wild. He poked a friendly nose at Stillwell, and then
+looked at Al and the women. Unhooking the stirrups from the pommel,
+Stillwell let them fall and began to search the saddle for something
+which he evidently expected to find. Presently from somewhere among the
+trappings he produced a folded bit of paper, and after scrutinizing it
+handed it to Al.
+
+“Addressed to you; an’ I’ll bet you two bits I know what’s in it,” he
+said.
+
+Alfred unfolded the letter, read it, and then looked at Stillwell.
+
+“Bill, you’re a pretty good guesser. Gene’s made for the border. He sent
+the horse by somebody, no names mentioned, and wants my sister to have
+him if she will accept.”
+
+“Any mention of Danny Mains?” asked the rancher.
+
+“Not a word.”
+
+“Thet’s bad. Gene’d know about Danny if anybody did. But he’s a
+close-mouthed cuss. So he’s sure hittin’ for Mexico. Wonder if Danny’s
+goin’, too? Wal, there’s two of the best cowmen I ever seen gone to hell
+an’ I’m sorry.”
+
+With that he bowed his head and, grumbling to himself, went into the
+house. Alfred lifted the reins over the head of the horse and, leading
+him to Madeline, slipped the knot over her arm and placed the letter in
+her hand.
+
+“Majesty, I’d accept the horse,” he said. “Stewart is only a cowboy now,
+and as tough as any I’ve known. But he comes of a good family. He was a
+college man and a gentleman once. He went to the bad out here, like so
+many fellows go, like I nearly did. Then he had told me about his sister
+and mother. He cared a good deal for them. I think he has been a source
+of unhappiness to them. It was mostly when he was reminded of this in
+some way that he’d get drunk. I have always stuck to him, and I would do
+so yet if I had the chance. You can see Bill is heartbroken about Danny
+Mains and Stewart. I think he rather hoped to get good news. There’s
+not much chance of them coming back now, at least not in the case of
+Stewart. This giving up his horse means he’s going to join the rebel
+forces across the border. What wouldn’t I give to see that cowboy break
+loose on a bunch of Greasers! Oh, damn the luck! I beg your pardon,
+Majesty. But I’m upset, too. I’m sorry about Stewart. I liked him
+pretty well before he thrashed that coyote of a sheriff, Pat Hawe, and
+afterward I guess I liked him more. You read the letter, sister, and
+accept the horse.”
+
+In silence Madeline bent her gaze from her brother’s face to the letter:
+
+Friend Al,—I’m sending my horse down to you because I’m going away and
+haven’t the nerve to take him where he’d get hurt or fall into strange
+hands.
+
+If you think it’s all right, why, give him to your sister with my
+respects. But if you don’t like the idea, Al, or if she won’t have him,
+then he’s for you. I’m not forgetting your kindness to me, even if I
+never showed it. And, Al, my horse has never felt a quirt or a spur, and
+I’d like to think you’d never hurt him. I’m hoping your sister will take
+him. She’ll be good to him, and she can afford to take care of him. And,
+while I’m waiting to be plugged by a Greaser bullet, if I happen to have
+a picture in mind of how she’ll look upon my horse, why, man, it’s not
+going to make any difference to you. She needn’t ever know it. Between
+you and me, Al, don’t let her or Flo ride alone over Don Carlos’s way.
+If I had time I could tell you something about that slick Greaser. And
+tell your sister, if there’s ever any reason for her to run away from
+anybody when she’s up on that roan, just let her lean over and yell in
+his ear. She’ll find herself riding the wind. So long.
+
+Gene Stewart.
+
+
+Madeline thoughtfully folded the letter and murmured, “How he must love
+his horse!”
+
+“Well, I should say so,” replied Alfred. “Flo will tell you. She’s the
+only person Gene ever let ride that horse, unless, as Bill thinks, the
+little Mexican girl, Bonita, rode him out of El Cajon the other night.
+Well, sister mine, how about it—will you accept the horse?”
+
+“Assuredly. And very happy indeed am I to get him. Al, you said, I
+think, that Mr. Stewart named him after me—saw my nickname in the New
+York paper?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Well, I will not change his name. But, Al, how shall I ever climb up
+on him? He’s taller than I am. What a giant of a horse! Oh, look at
+him—he’s nosing my hand. I really believe he understood what I said.
+Al, did you ever see such a splendid head and such beautiful eyes? They
+are so large and dark and soft—and human. Oh, I am a fickle woman, for
+I am forgetting White Stockings.”
+
+“I’ll gamble he’ll make you forget any other horse,” said Alfred.
+“You’ll have to get on him from the porch.”
+
+As Madeline was not dressed for the saddle, she did not attempt to
+mount.
+
+“Come, Majesty—how strange that sounds!—we must get acquainted. You
+have now a new owner, a very severe young woman who will demand loyalty
+from you and obedience, and some day, after a decent period, she will
+expect love.”
+
+Madeline led the horse to and fro, and was delighted with his
+gentleness. She discovered that he did not need to be led. He came at
+her call, followed her like a pet dog, rubbed his black muzzle against
+her. Sometimes, at the turns in their walk, he lifted his head and with
+ears forward looked up the trail by which he had come, and beyond the
+foothills. He was looking over the range. Some one was calling to him,
+perhaps, from beyond the mountains. Madeline liked him the better for
+that memory, and pitied the wayward cowboy who had parted with his only
+possession for very love of it.
+
+That afternoon when Alfred lifted Madeline to the back of the big roan
+she felt high in the air.
+
+“We’ll have a run out to the mesa,” said her brother, as he mounted.
+“Keep a tight rein on him and ease up when you want him to go faster.
+But don’t yell in his ear unless you want Florence and me to see you
+disappear on the horizon.”
+
+He trotted out of the yard, down by the corrals, to come out on the
+edge of a gray, open flat that stretched several miles to the slope of a
+mesa. Florence led, and Madeline saw that she rode like a cowboy. Alfred
+drew on to her side, leaving Madeline in the rear. Then the leading
+horses broke into a gallop. They wanted to run, and Madeline felt with a
+thrill that she would hardly be able to keep Majesty from running, even
+if she wanted to. He sawed on the tight bridle as the others drew away
+and broke from pace to gallop. Then Florence put her horse into a run.
+Alfred turned and called to Madeline to come along.
+
+“This will never do. They are running away from us,” said Madeline, and
+she eased up her hold on the bridle. Something happened beneath her just
+then; she did not know at first exactly what. As much as she had been on
+horseback she had never ridden at a running gait. In New York it was not
+decorous or safe. So when Majesty lowered and stretched and changed the
+stiff, jolting gallop for a wonderful, smooth, gliding run it required
+Madeline some moments to realize what was happening. It did not take
+long for her to see the distance diminishing between her and her
+companions. Still they had gotten a goodly start and were far advanced.
+She felt the steady, even rush of the wind. It amazed her to find how
+easily, comfortably she kept to the saddle. The experience was new.
+The one fault she had heretofore found with riding was the violent
+shaking-up. In this instance she experienced nothing of that kind, no
+strain, no necessity to hold on with a desperate awareness of work. She
+had never felt the wind in her face, the whip of a horse’s mane, the
+buoyant, level spring of a tanning gait. It thrilled her, exhilarated
+her, fired her blood. Suddenly she found herself alive, throbbing; and,
+inspired by she knew not what, she loosened the bridle and, leaning far
+forward, she cried, “Oh, you splendid fellow, run!”
+
+She heard from under her a sudden quick clattering roar of hoofs, and
+she swayed back with the wonderfully swift increase in Majesty’s speed.
+The wind stung her face, howled in her ears, tore at her hair. The gray
+plain swept by on each side, and in front seemed to be waving toward
+her. In her blurred sight Florence and Alfred appeared to be coming
+back. But she saw presently, upon nearer view, that Majesty was
+overhauling the other horses, was going to pass them. Indeed, he did
+pass them, shooting by so as almost to make them appear standing still.
+And he ran on, not breaking his gait till he reached the steep side of
+the mesa, where he slowed down and stopped.
+
+“Glorious!” exclaimed Madeline. She was all in a blaze, and every muscle
+and nerve of her body tingled and quivered. Her hands, as she endeavored
+to put up the loosened strands of hair, trembled and failed of
+their accustomed dexterity. Then she faced about and waited for her
+companions.
+
+Alfred reached her first, laughing, delighted, yet also a little
+anxious.
+
+“Holy smoke! But can’t he run? Did he bolt on you?”
+
+“No, I called in his ear,” replied Madeline.
+
+“So that was it. That’s the woman of you, and forbidden fruit. Flo said
+she’d do it the minute she was on him. Majesty, you can ride. See if Flo
+doesn’t say so.”
+
+The Western girl came up then with her pleasure bright in her face.
+
+“It was just great to see you. How your hair burned in the wind! Al, she
+sure can ride. Oh, I’m so glad! I was a little afraid. And that horse!
+Isn’t he grand? Can’t he run?”
+
+Alfred led the way up the steep, zigzag trail to the top of the mesa.
+Madeline saw a beautiful flat surface of short grass, level as a floor.
+She uttered a little cry of wonder and enthusiasm.
+
+“Al, what a place for golf! This would be the finest links in the
+world.”
+
+“Well, I’ve thought of that myself,” he replied. “The only trouble would
+be—could anybody stop looking at the scenery long enough to hit a ball?
+Majesty, look!”
+
+And then it seemed that Madeline was confronted by a spectacle too
+sublime and terrible for her gaze. The immensity of this red-ridged,
+deep-gulfed world descending incalculable distances refused to be
+grasped, and awed her, shocked her.
+
+“Once, Majesty, when I first came out West, I was down and
+out—determined to end it all,” said Alfred. “And happened to climb up
+here looking for a lonely place to die. When I saw that I changed my
+mind.”
+
+Madeline was silent. She remained so during the ride around the rim of
+the mesa and down the steep trail. This time Alfred and Florence failed
+to tempt her into a race. She had been awe-struck; she had been exalted
+she had been confounded; and she recovered slowly without divining
+exactly what had come to her.
+
+She reached the ranch-house far behind her companions, and at
+supper-time was unusually thoughtful. Later, when they assembled on the
+porch to watch the sunset, Stillwell’s humorous complainings inspired
+the inception of an idea which flashed up in her mind swift as
+lightning. And then by listening sympathetically she encouraged him to
+recite the troubles of a poor cattleman. They were many and long and
+interesting, and rather numbing to the life of her inspired idea.
+
+“Mr. Stillwell, could ranching here on a large scale, with up-to-date
+methods, be made—well, not profitable, exactly, but to pay—to run
+without loss?” she asked, determined to kill her new-born idea at birth
+or else give it breath and hope of life.
+
+“Wal, I reckon it could,” he replied, with a short laugh. “It’d sure be
+a money-maker. Why, with all my bad luck an’ poor equipment I’ve lived
+pretty well an’ paid my debts an’ haven’t really lost any money except
+the original outlay. I reckon thet’s sunk fer good.”
+
+“Would you sell—if some one would pay your price?”
+
+“Miss Majesty, I’d jump at the chance. Yet somehow I’d hate to leave
+hyar. I’d jest be fool enough to go sink the money in another ranch.”
+
+“Would Don Carlos and these other Mexicans sell?”
+
+“They sure would. The Don has been after me fer years, wantin’ to sell
+thet old rancho of his; an’ these herders in the valley with their stray
+cattle, they’d fall daid at sight of a little money.”
+
+“Please tell me, Mr. Stillwell, exactly what you would do here if you
+had unlimited means?” went on Madeline.
+
+“Good Lud!” ejaculated the rancher, and started so he dropped his pipe.
+Then with his clumsy huge fingers he refilled it, relighted it, took a
+few long pulls, puffed great clouds of smoke, and, squaring round, hands
+on his knees, he looked at Madeline with piercing intentness. His hard
+face began to relax and soften and wrinkle into a smile.
+
+“Wal, Miss Majesty, it jest makes my old heart warm up to think of sich
+a thing. I dreamed a lot when I first come hyar. What would I do if I
+hed unlimited money? Listen. I’d buy out Don Carlos an’ the Greasers.
+I’d give a job to every good cowman in this country. I’d make them
+prosper as I prospered myself. I’d buy all the good horses on the
+ranges. I’d fence twenty thousand acres of the best grazin’. I’d drill
+fer water in the valley. I’d pipe water down from the mountains. I’d dam
+up that draw out there. A mile-long dam from hill to hill would give me
+a big lake, an’ hevin’ an eye fer beauty, I’d plant cottonwoods around
+it. I’d fill that lake full of fish. I’d put in the biggest field of
+alfalfa in the Southwest. I’d plant fruit-trees an’ garden. I’d tear
+down them old corrals an’ barns an’ bunk-houses to build new ones. I’d
+make this old rancho some comfortable an’ fine. I’d put in grass an’
+flowers all around an’ bring young pine-trees down from the mountains.
+An’ when all thet was done I’d sit in my chair an’ smoke an’ watch the
+cattle stringin’ in fer water an’ stragglin’ back into the valley. An’
+I see the cowboys ridin’ easy an’ heah them singin’ in their bunks. An’
+thet red sun out there wouldn’t set on a happier man in the world than
+Bill Stillwell, last of the old cattlemen.”
+
+Madeline thanked the rancher, and then rather abruptly retired to her
+room, where she felt no restraint to hide the force of that wonderful
+idea, now full-grown and tenacious and alluring.
+
+Upon the next day, late in the afternoon, she asked Alfred if it would
+be safe for her to ride out to the mesa.
+
+“I’ll go with you,” he said, gaily.
+
+“Dear fellow, I want to go alone,” she replied.
+
+“Ah!” Alfred exclaimed, suddenly serious. He gave her just a quick
+glance, then turned away. “Go ahead. I think it’s safe. I’ll make it
+safe by sitting here with my glass and keeping an eye on you. Be careful
+coming down the trail. Let the horse pick his way. That’s all.”
+
+She rode Majesty across the wide flat, up the zigzag trail, across the
+beautiful grassy level to the far rim of the mesa, and not till then did
+she lift her eyes to face the southwest.
+
+Madeline looked from the gray valley at her feet to the blue Sierra
+Madres, gold-tipped in the setting sun. Her vision embraced in that
+glance distance and depth and glory hitherto unrevealed to her. The gray
+valley sloped and widened to the black sentinel Chiricahuas, and beyond
+was lost in a vast corrugated sweep of earth, reddening down to the
+west, where a golden blaze lifted the dark, rugged mountains into bold
+relief. The scene had infinite beauty. But after Madeline’s first swift,
+all-embracing flash of enraptured eyes, thought of beauty passed away.
+In that darkening desert there was something illimitable. Madeline saw
+the hollow of a stupendous hand; she felt a mighty hold upon her heart.
+Out of the endless space, out of silence and desolation and mystery and
+age, came slow-changing colored shadows, phantoms of peace, and they
+whispered to Madeline. They whispered that it was a great, grim,
+immutable earth; that time was eternity; that life was fleeting. They
+whispered for her to be a woman; to love some one before it was too
+late; to love any one, every one; to realize the need of work, and in
+doing it to find happiness.
+
+She rode back across the mesa and down the trail, and, once more upon
+the flat, she called to the horse and made him run. His spirit seemed to
+race with hers. The wind of his speed blew her hair from its fastenings.
+When he thundered to a halt at the porch steps Madeline, breathless and
+disheveled, alighted with the mass of her hair tumbling around her.
+
+Alfred met her, and his exclamation, and Florence’s rapt eyes shining
+on her face, and Stillwell’s speechlessness made her self-conscious.
+Laughing, she tried to put up the mass of hair.
+
+“I must—look a—fright,” she panted.
+
+“Wal, you can say what you like,” replied the old cattleman, “but I know
+what I think.”
+
+Madeline strove to attain calmness.
+
+“My hat—and my combs—went on the wind. I thought my hair would go,
+too.... There is the evening star.... I think I am very hungry.”
+
+And then she gave up trying to be calm, and likewise to fasten up her
+hair, which fell again in a golden mass.
+
+“Mr. Stillwell,” she began, and paused, strangely aware of a hurried
+note, a deeper ring in her voice. “Mr. Stillwell, I want to buy your
+ranch—to engage you as my superintendent. I want to buy Don Carlos’s
+ranch and other property to the extent, say, of fifty thousand acres.
+I want you to buy horses and cattle—in short, to make all those
+improvements which you said you had so long dreamed of. Then I have
+ideas of my own, in the development of which I must have your advice and
+Alfred’s. I intend to better the condition of those poor Mexicans in the
+valley. I intend to make life a little more worth living for them and
+for the cowboys of this range. To-morrow we shall talk it all over, plan
+all the business details.”
+
+Madeline turned from the huge, ever-widening smile that beamed down upon
+her and held out her hands to her brother.
+
+“Alfred, strange, is it not, my coming out to you? Nay, don’t smile. I
+hope I have found myself—my work—my happiness—here under the light of
+that western star.”
+
+
+
+
+VII. Her Majesty’s Rancho
+
+
+FIVE months brought all that Stillwell had dreamed of, and so many more
+changes and improvements and innovations that it was as if a magic touch
+had transformed the old ranch. Madeline and Alfred and Florence had
+talked over a fitting name, and had decided on one chosen by Madeline.
+But this instance was the only one in the course of developments in
+which Madeline’s wishes were not compiled with. The cowboys named the
+new ranch “Her Majesty’s Rancho.” Stillwell said the names cowboys
+bestowed were felicitous, and as unchangeable as the everlasting hills;
+Florence went over to the enemy; and Alfred, laughing at Madeline’s
+protest, declared the cowboys had elected her queen of the ranges, and
+that there was no help for it. So the name stood “Her Majesty’s Rancho.”
+
+The April sun shone down upon a slow-rising green knoll that nestled in
+the lee of the foothills, and seemed to center bright rays upon the long
+ranch-house, which gleamed snow-white from the level summit. The grounds
+around the house bore no semblance to Eastern lawns or parks; there had
+been no landscape-gardening; Stillwell had just brought water and grass
+and flowers and plants to the knoll-top, and there had left them, as it
+were, to follow nature. His idea may have been crude, but the result
+was beautiful. Under that hot sun and balmy air, with cool water daily
+soaking into the rich soil, a green covering sprang into life, and
+everywhere upon it, as if by magic, many colored flowers rose in the
+sweet air. Pale wild flowers, lavender daisies, fragile bluebells, white
+four-petaled lilies like Eastern mayflowers, and golden poppies, deep
+sunset gold, color of the West, bloomed in happy confusion. California
+roses, crimson as blood, nodded heavy heads and trembled with the weight
+of bees. Low down in bare places, isolated, open to the full power of
+the sun, blazed the vermilion and magenta blossoms of cactus plants.
+
+Green slopes led all the way down to where new adobe barns and sheds had
+been erected, and wide corrals stretched high-barred fences down to the
+great squares of alfalfa gently inclining to the gray of the valley. The
+bottom of a dammed-up hollow shone brightly with its slowly increasing
+acreage of water, upon which thousands of migratory wildfowl whirred and
+splashed and squawked, as if reluctant to leave this cool, wet surprise
+so new in the long desert journey to the northland. Quarters for the
+cowboys—comfortable, roomy adobe houses that not even the lamest cowboy
+dared describe as crampy bunks—stood in a row upon a long bench of
+ground above the lake. And down to the edge of the valley the cluster of
+Mexican habitations and the little church showed the touch of the same
+renewing hand.
+
+
+All that had been left of the old Spanish house which had been
+Stillwell’s home for so long was the bare, massive structure, and
+some of this had been cut away for new doors and windows. Every modern
+convenience, even to hot and cold running water and acetylene light,
+had been installed; and the whole interior painted and carpentered and
+furnished. The ideal sought had not been luxury, but comfort. Every door
+into the patio looked out upon dark, rich grass and sweet-faced flowers,
+and every window looked down the green slopes.
+
+Madeline’s rooms occupied the west end of the building and comprised
+four in number, all opening out upon the long porch. There was a
+small room for her maid, another which she used as an office, then her
+sleeping-apartment; and, lastly, the great light chamber which she had
+liked so well upon first sight, and which now, simply yet beautifully
+furnished and containing her favorite books and pictures, she had come
+to love as she had never loved any room at home. In the morning the
+fragrant, balmy air blew the white curtains of the open windows; at
+noon the drowsy, sultry quiet seemed to creep in for the siesta that was
+characteristic of the country; in the afternoon the westering sun peeped
+under the porch roof and painted the walls with gold bars that slowly
+changed to red.
+
+Madeline Hammond cherished a fancy that the transformation she had
+wrought in the old Spanish house and in the people with whom she had
+surrounded herself, great as that transformation had been, was as
+nothing compared to the one wrought in herself. She had found an object
+in life. She was busy, she worked with her hands as well as mind, yet
+she seemed to have more time to read and think and study and idle
+and dream than ever before. She had seen her brother through his
+difficulties, on the road to all the success and prosperity that he
+cared for. Madeline had been a conscientious student of ranching and an
+apt pupil of Stillwell. The old cattleman, in his simplicity, gave her
+the place in his heart that was meant for the daughter he had never had.
+His pride in her, Madeline thought, was beyond reason or belief or
+words to tell. Under his guidance, sometimes accompanied by Alfred and
+Florence, Madeline had ridden the ranges and had studied the life and
+work of the cowboys. She had camped on the open range, slept under the
+blinking stars, ridden forty miles a day in the face of dust and wind.
+She had taken two wonderful trips down into the desert—one trip to
+Chiricahua, and from there across the waste of sand and rock and alkali
+and cactus to the Mexican borderline; and the other through the Aravaipa
+Valley, with its deep, red-walled canyons and wild fastnesses.
+
+This breaking-in, this training into Western ways, though she had been
+a so-called outdoor girl, had required great effort and severe pain; but
+the education, now past its grades, had become a labor of love. She
+had perfect health, abounding spirits. She was so active hat she had to
+train herself into taking the midday siesta, a custom of the country
+and imperative during the hot summer months. Sometimes she looked in
+her mirror and laughed with sheer joy at sight of the lithe, audacious,
+brown-faced, flashing-eyed creature reflected there. It was not so much
+joy in her beauty as sheer joy of life. Eastern critics had been wont to
+call her beautiful in those days when she had been pale and slender and
+proud and cold. She laughed. If they could only see her now! From the
+tip of her golden head to her feet she was alive, pulsating, on fire.
+
+Sometimes she thought of her parents, sister, friends, of how they had
+persistently refused to believe she could or would stay in the West.
+They were always asking her to come home. And when she wrote, which was
+dutifully often, the last thing under the sun that she was likely to
+mention was the change in her. She wrote that she would return to her
+old home some time, of course, for a visit; and letters such as this
+brought returns that amused Madeline, sometimes saddened her. She meant
+to go back East for a while, and after that once or twice every year.
+But the initiative was a difficult step from which she shrank. Once
+home, she would have to make explanations, and these would not be
+understood. Her father’s business had been such that he could not leave
+it for the time required for a Western trip, or else, according to his
+letter, he would have come for her. Mrs. Hammond could not have been
+driven to cross the Hudson River; her un-American idea of the wilderness
+westward was that Indians still chased buffalo on the outskirts of
+Chicago. Madeline’s sister Helen had long been eager to come, as much
+from curiosity, Madeline thought, as from sisterly regard. And at length
+Madeline concluded that the proof of her breaking permanent ties might
+better be seen by visiting relatives and friends before she went back
+East. With that in mind she invited Helen to visit her during the
+summer, and bring as many friends as she liked.
+
+    *       *       *
+
+No slight task indeed was it to oversee the many business details of Her
+Majesty’s Rancho and to keep a record of them. Madeline found the course
+of business training upon which her father had insisted to be invaluable
+to her now. It helped her to assimilate and arrange the practical
+details of cattle-raising as put forth by the blunt Stillwell. She split
+up the great stock of cattle into different herds, and when any of these
+were out running upon the open range she had them closely watched. Part
+of the time each herd was kept in an inclosed range, fed and watered,
+and carefully handled by a big force of cowboys. She employed three
+cowboy scouts whose sole duty was to ride the ranges searching for
+stray, sick, or crippled cattle or motherless calves, and to bring these
+in to be treated and nursed. There were two cowboys whose business was
+to master a pack of Russian stag-hounds and to hunt down the coyotes,
+wolves, and lions that preyed upon the herds. The better and tamer
+milch cows were separated from the ranging herds and kept in a pasture
+adjoining the dairy. All branding was done in corrals, and calves were
+weaned from mother-cows at the proper time to benefit both. The old
+method of branding and classing, that had so shocked Madeline, had been
+abandoned, and one had been inaugurated whereby cattle and cowboys and
+horses were spared brutality and injury.
+
+Madeline established an extensive vegetable farm, and she planted
+orchards. The climate was superior to that of California, and, with
+abundant water, trees and plants and gardens flourished and bloomed in
+a way wonderful to behold. It was with ever-increasing pleasure that
+Madeline walked through acres of ground once bare, now green and bright
+and fragrant. There were poultry-yards and pig-pens and marshy quarters
+for ducks and geese. Here in the farming section of the ranch Madeline
+found employment for the little colony of Mexicans. Their lives had been
+as hard and barren as the dry valley where they had lived. But as the
+valley had been transformed by the soft, rich touch of water, so their
+lives had been transformed by help and sympathy and work. The children
+were wretched no more, and many that had been blind could now see, and
+Madeline had become to them a new and blessed virgin.
+
+Madeline looked abroad over these lands and likened the change in them
+and those who lived by them to the change in her heart. It may have
+been fancy, but the sun seemed to be brighter, the sky bluer, the wind
+sweeter. Certain it was that the deep green of grass and garden was not
+fancy, nor the white and pink of blossom, nor the blaze and perfume of
+flower, nor the sheen of lake and the fluttering of new-born leaves.
+Where there had been monotonous gray there was now vivid and changing
+color. Formerly there had been silence both day and night; now during
+the sunny hours there was music. The whistle of prancing stallions
+pealed in from the grassy ridges. Innumerable birds had come and, like
+the northward-journeying ducks, they had tarried to stay. The song
+of meadow-lark and blackbird and robin, familiar to Madeline from
+childhood, mingled with the new and strange heart-throbbing song
+of mocking-bird and the piercing blast of the desert eagle and the
+melancholy moan of turtle-dove.
+
+          *****
+
+One April morning Madeline sat in her office wrestling with a problem.
+She had problems to solve every day. The majority of these were
+concerned with the management of twenty-seven incomprehensible cowboys.
+This particular problem involved Ambrose Mills, who had eloped with her
+French maid, Christine.
+
+Stillwell faced Madeline with a smile almost as huge as his bulk.
+
+“Wal, Miss Majesty, we ketched them; but not before Padre Marcos had
+married them. All thet speedin’ in the autoomoobile was jest a-scarin’
+of me to death fer nothin’. I tell you Link Stevens is crazy about
+runnin’ thet car. Link never hed no sense even with a hoss. He ain’t
+afraid of the devil hisself. If my hair hedn’t been white it ’d be white
+now. No more rides in thet thing fer me! Wal, we ketched Ambrose an’
+the girl too late. But we fetched them back, an’ they’re out there now,
+spoonin’, sure oblivious to their shameless conduct.”
+
+“Stillwell, what shall I say to Ambrose? How shall I punish him? He has
+done wrong to deceive me. I never was so surprised in my life. Christine
+did not seem to care any more for Ambrose than for any of the other
+cowboys. What does my authority amount to? I must do something.
+Stillwell, you must help me.”
+
+Whenever Madeline fell into a quandary she had to call upon the
+old cattleman. No man ever held a position with greater pride than
+Stillwell, but he had been put to tests that steeped him in humility.
+Here he scratched his head in great perplexity.
+
+“Dog-gone the luck! What’s this elopin’ bizness to do with
+cattle-raisin’? I don’t know nothin’ but cattle. Miss Majesty, it’s
+amazin’ strange what these cowboys hev come to. I never seen no cowboys
+like these we’ve got hyar now. I don’t know them any more. They dress
+swell an’ read books, an’ some of them hev actooly stopped cussin’ an’
+drinkin’. I ain’t sayin’ all this is against them. Why, now, they’re
+jest the finest bunch of cow-punchers I ever seen or dreamed of. But
+managin’ them now is beyond me. When cowboys begin to play thet game
+gol-lof an’ run off with French maids I reckon Bill Stillwell has got to
+resign.”
+
+“Stillwell! Oh, you will not leave me? What in the world would I do?”
+ exclaimed Madeline, in great anxiety.
+
+“Wal, I sure won’t leave you, Miss Majesty. No, I never’ll do thet. I’ll
+run the cattle bizness fer you an’ see after the hosses an’ other stock.
+But I’ve got to hev a foreman who can handle this amazin’ strange bunch
+of cowboys.”
+
+“You’ve tried half a dozen foremen. Try more until you find the man who
+meets your requirements,” said Madeline. “Never mind that now. Tell me
+how to impress Ambrose—to make him an example, so to speak. I must have
+another maid. And I do not want a new one carried off in this summary
+manner.”
+
+“Wal, if you fetch pretty maids out hyar you can’t expect nothin’ else.
+Why, thet black-eyed little French girl, with her white skin an’ pretty
+airs an’ smiles an’ shrugs, she had the cowboys crazy. It’ll be wuss
+with the next one.”
+
+“Oh dear!” sighed Madeline.
+
+“An’ as fer impressin’ Ambrose, I reckon I can tell you how to do thet.
+Jest give it to him good an’ say you’re goin’ to fire him. That’ll fix
+Ambrose, an’ mebbe scare the other boys fer a spell.”
+
+“Very well, Stillwell, bring Ambrose in to see me, and tell Christine to
+wait in my room.”
+
+It was a handsome debonair, bright-eyed cowboy that came tramping
+into Madeline’s presence. His accustomed shyness and awkwardness had
+disappeared in an excited manner. He was a happy boy. He looked straight
+into Madeline’s face as if he expected her to wish him joy. And Madeline
+actually found that expression trembling to her lips. She held it back
+until she could be severe. But Madeline feared she would fail of much
+severity. Something warm and sweet, like a fragrance, had entered the
+room with Ambrose.
+
+“Ambrose, what have you done?” she asked.
+
+“Miss Hammond, I’ve been and gone and got married,” replied Ambrose, his
+words tumbling over one another. His eyes snapped, and there was a kind
+of glow upon his clean-shaven brown cheek. “I’ve stole a march on the
+other boys. There was Frank Slade pushin’ me close, and I was havin’
+some runnin’ to keep Jim Bell back in my dust. Even old man Nels made
+eyes at Christine! So I wasn’t goin’ to take any chances. I just packed
+her off to El Cajon and married her.”
+
+“Oh, so I heard,” said Madeline, slowly, as she watched him. “Ambrose,
+do you—love her?”
+
+He reddened under her clear gaze, dropped his head, and fumbled with
+his new sombrero, and there was a catch in his breath. Madeline saw
+his powerful brown hand tremble. It affected her strangely that this
+stalwart cowboy, who could rope and throw and tie a wild steer in less
+than one minute, should tremble at a mere question. Suddenly he raised
+his head, and at the beautiful blase of his eyes Madeline turned her own
+away.
+
+“Yes, Miss Hammond, I love her,” he said. “I think I love her in the
+way you’re askin’ about. I know the first time I saw her I thought how
+wonderful it’d be to have a girl like that for my wife. It’s all been
+so strange—her comin’ an’ how she made me feel. Sure I never knew many
+girls, and I haven’t seen any girls at all for years. But when she came!
+A girl makes a wonderful difference in a man’s feelin’s and thoughts.
+I guess I never had any before. Leastways, none like I have now.
+My—it—well, I guess I have a little understandin’ now of Padre
+Marcos’s blessin’.”
+
+“Ambrose, have you nothing to say to me?” asked Madeline.
+
+“I’m sure sorry I didn’t have time to tell you. But I was in some
+hurry.”
+
+“What did you intend to do? Where were you going when Stillwell found
+you?”
+
+“We’d just been married. I hadn’t thought of anything after that.
+Suppose I’d have rustled back to my job. I’ll sure have to work now and
+save my money.”
+
+“Oh, well, Ambrose, I am glad you realize your responsibilities. Do you
+earn enough—is your pay sufficient to keep a wife?”
+
+“Sure it is! Why, Miss Hammond, I never before earned half the salary
+I’m gettin’ now. It’s some fine to work for you. I’m goin’ to fire the
+boys out of my bunk-house and fix it up for Christine and me. Say, won’t
+they be jealous?”
+
+“Ambrose, I—I congratulate you. I wish you joy,” said Madeline. “I—I
+shall make Christine a little wedding-present. I want to talk to her for
+a few moments. You may go now.”
+
+It would have been impossible for Madeline to say one severe word
+to that happy cowboy. She experienced difficulty in hiding her own
+happiness at the turn of events. Curiosity and interest mingled with her
+pleasure when she called to Christine.
+
+“Mrs. Ambrose Mills, please come in.”
+
+No sound came from the other room.
+
+“I should like very much to see the bride,” went on Madeline.
+
+Still there was no stir or reply
+
+“Christine!” called Madeline.
+
+Then it was as if a little whirlwind of flying feet and entreating
+hands and beseeching eyes blew in upon Madeline. Christine was small,
+graceful, plump, with very white skin and very dark hair. She had been
+Madeline’s favorite maid for years and there was sincere affection
+between the two. Whatever had been the blissful ignorance of Ambrose, it
+was manifestly certain that Christine knew how she had transgressed.
+Her fear and remorse and appeal for forgiveness were poured out in an
+incoherent storm. Plain it was that the little French maid had been
+overwhelmed. It was only after Madeline had taken the emotional girl in
+her arms and had forgiven and soothed her that her part in the elopement
+became clear. Christine was in a maze. But gradually, as she talked and
+saw that she was forgiven, calmness came in some degree, and with it
+a story which amused yet shocked Madeline. The unmistakable, shy,
+marveling love, scarcely realized by Christine, gave Madeline relief
+and joy. If Christine loved Ambrose there was no harm done. Watching the
+girl’s eyes, wonderful with their changes of thought, listening to her
+attempts to explain what it was evident she did not understand, Madeline
+gathered that if ever a caveman had taken unto himself a wife, if ever
+a barbarian had carried off a Sabine woman, then Ambrose Mills had acted
+with the violence of such ancient forebears. Just how it all happened
+seemed to be beyond Christine.
+
+“He say he love me,” repeated the girl, in a kind of rapt awe. “He ask
+me to marry him—he kees me—he hug me—he lift me on ze horse—he ride
+with me all night—he marry me.”
+
+And she exhibited a ring on the third finger of her left hand. Madeline
+saw that, whatever had been the state of Christine’s feeling for Ambrose
+before this marriage, she loved him now. She had been taken forcibly,
+but she was won.
+
+After Christine had gone, comforted and betraying her shy eagerness
+to get back to Ambrose, Madeline was haunted by the look in the girl’s
+eyes, and her words. Assuredly the spell of romance was on this sunny
+land. For Madeline there was a nameless charm, a nameless thrill
+combating her sense of the violence and unfitness of Ambrose’s wooing.
+Something, she knew not what, took arms against her intellectual
+arraignment of the cowboy’s method of getting himself a wife. He had
+said straight out that he loved the girl—he had asked her to marry
+him—he kissed her—he hugged her—he lifted her upon his horse—he rode
+away with her through the night—and he married her. In whatever light
+Madeline reviewed this thing she always came back to her first natural
+impression; it thrilled her, charmed her. It went against all the
+precepts of her training; nevertheless, it was somehow splendid and
+beautiful. She imagined it stripped another artificial scale from her
+over-sophisticated eyes.
+
+Scarcely had she settled again to the task on her desk when Stillwell’s
+heavy tread across the porch interrupted her. This time when he entered
+he wore a look that bordered upon the hysterical; it was difficult to
+tell whether he was trying to suppress grief or glee.
+
+“Miss Majesty, there’s another amazin’ strange thing sprung on me.
+Hyars Jim Bell come to see you, an’, when I taxed him, sayin’ you was
+tolerable busy, he up an’ says he was hungry an’ he ain’t a-goin’ to eat
+any more bread made in a wash-basin! Says he’ll starve first. Says Nels
+hed the gang over to big bunk an’ feasted them on bread you taught him
+how to make in some new-fangled bucket-machine with a crank. Jim says
+thet bread beat any cake he ever eat, an’ he wants you to show him how
+to make some. Now, Miss Majesty, as superintendent of this ranch I ought
+to know what’s goin’ on. Mebbe Jim is jest a-joshin’ me. Mebbe he’s gone
+clean dotty. Mebbe I hev. An’ beggin’ your pardon, I want to know if
+there’s any truth in what Jim says Nels says.”
+
+Whereupon it became necessary for Madeline to stifle her mirth and to
+inform the sadly perplexed old cattleman that she had received from the
+East a patent bread-mixer, and in view of the fact that her household
+women had taken fright at the contrivance, she had essayed to operate
+it herself. This had turned out to be so simple, so saving of time and
+energy and flour, so much more cleanly than the old method of mixing
+dough with the hands, and particularly it had resulted in such good
+bread, that Madeline had been pleased. Immediately she ordered more
+of the bread-mixers. One day she had happened upon Nels making biscuit
+dough in his wash-basin, and she had delicately and considerately
+introduced to him the idea of her new method. Nels, it appeared, had a
+great reputation as a bread-maker, and he was proud of it. Moreover,
+he was skeptical of any clap-trap thing with wheels and cranks. He
+consented, however, to let her show how the thing worked and to sample
+some of the bread. To that end she had him come up to the house, where
+she won him over. Stillwell laughed loud and long.
+
+“Wal, wal, wal!” he exclaimed, at length. “Thet’s fine, an’ it’s
+powerful funny. Mebbe you don’t see how funny? Wal, Nels has jest been
+lordin’ it over the boys about how you showed him, an’ now you’ll hev
+to show every last cowboy on the place the same thing. Cowboys are the
+jealousest kind of fellers. They’re all crazy about you, anyway. Take
+Jim out hyar. Why, thet lazy cowpuncher jest never would make bread.
+He’s notorious fer shirkin’ his share of the grub deal. I’ve knowed Jim
+to trade off washin’ the pots an’ pans fer a lonely watch on a rainy
+night. All he wants is to see you show him the same as Nels is crowin’
+over. Then he’ll crow over his bunkie, Frank Slade, an’ then Frank’ll
+get lonely to know all about this wonderful bread-machine. Cowboys are
+amazin’ strange critters, Miss Majesty. An’ now thet you’ve begun with
+them this way, you’ll hev to keep it up. I will say I never seen such a
+bunch to work. You’ve sure put heart in them.”
+
+“Indeed, Stillwell, I am glad to hear that,” replied Madeline. “And I
+shall be pleased to teach them all. But may I not have them all up here
+at once—at least those off duty?”
+
+“Wal, I reckon you can’t onless you want to hev them scrappin’,”
+ rejoined Stillwell, dryly. “What you’ve got on your hands now, Miss
+Majesty, is to let ’em come one by one, an’ make each cowboy think
+you’re takin’ more especial pleasure in showin’ him than the feller who
+came before him. Then mebbe we can go on with cattle-raisin’.”
+
+Madeline protested, and Stillwell held inexorably to what he said was
+wisdom. Several times Madeline had gone against his advice, to her utter
+discomfiture and rout. She dared not risk it again, and resigned herself
+gracefully and with subdued merriment to her task. Jim Bell was ushered
+into the great, light, spotless kitchen, where presently Madeline
+appeared to put on an apron and roll up her sleeves. She explained the
+use of the several pieces of aluminum that made up the bread-mixer and
+fastened the bucket to the table-shelf. Jim’s life might have depended
+upon this lesson, judging from his absorbed manner and his desire to
+have things explained over and over, especially the turning of the
+crank. When Madeline had to take Jim’s hand three times to show him the
+simple mechanism and then he did not understand she began to have faint
+misgivings as to his absolute sincerity. She guessed that as long as
+she touched Jim’s hand he never would understand. Then as she began
+to measure out flour and milk and lard and salt and yeast she saw with
+despair that Jim was not looking at the ingredients, was not paying the
+slightest attention to them. His eyes were covertly upon her.
+
+“Jim, I am not sure about you,” said Madeline, severely. “How can you
+learn to make bread if you do not watch me mix it?”
+
+“I am a-watchin’ you,” replied Jim, innocently.
+
+Finally Madeline sent the cowboy on his way rejoicing with the
+bread-mixer under his arm. Next morning, true to Stillwell’s prophecy,
+Frank Slade, Jim’s bunkmate, presented himself cheerfully to Madeline
+and unbosomed himself of a long-deferred and persistent desire to
+relieve his overworked comrade of some of the house-keeping in their
+bunk.
+
+“Miss Hammond,” said Frank, “Jim’s orful kind wantin’ to do it all
+hisself. But he ain’t very bright, an’ I didn’t believe him. You see,
+I’m from Missouri, an’ you’ll have to show me.”
+
+For a whole week Madeline held clinics where she expounded the
+scientific method of modern bread-making. She got a good deal of
+enjoyment out of her lectures. What boys these great hulking fellows
+were! She saw through their simple ruses. Some of them were grave as
+deacons; others wore expressions important enough to have fitted the
+faces of statesmen signing government treaties. These cowboys were
+children; they needed to be governed; but in order to govern them they
+had to be humored. A more light-hearted, fun-loving crowd of boys could
+not have been found. And they were grown men. Stillwell explained that
+the exuberance of spirits lay in the difference in their fortunes.
+Twenty-seven cowboys, in relays of nine, worked eight hours a day. That
+had never been heard of before in the West. Stillwell declared that
+cowboys from all points of the compass would head their horses toward
+Her Majesty’s Rancho.
+
+
+
+
+VIII. El Capitan
+
+
+Stillwell’s interest in the revolution across the Mexican line had
+manifestly increased with the news that Gene Stewart had achieved
+distinction with the rebel forces. Thereafter the old cattleman sent
+for El Paso and Douglas newspapers, wrote to ranchmen he knew on the big
+bend of the Rio Grande, and he would talk indefinitely to any one
+who would listen to him. There was not any possibility of Stillwell’s
+friends at the ranch forgetting his favorite cowboy. Stillwell always
+prefaced his eulogy with an apologetic statement that Stewart had gone
+to the bad. Madeline liked to listen to him, though she was not always
+sure which news was authentic and which imagination.
+
+There appeared to be no doubt, however, that the cowboy had performed
+some daring feats for the rebels. Madeline found his name mentioned in
+several of the border papers. When the rebels under Madero stormed and
+captured the city of Juarez, Stewart did fighting that won him the
+name of El Capitan. This battle apparently ended the revolution. The
+capitulation of President Diaz followed shortly, and there was a feeling
+of relief among ranchers on the border from Texas to California. Nothing
+more was heard of Gene Stewart until April, when a report reached
+Stillwell that the cowboy had arrived in El Cajon, evidently hunting
+trouble. The old cattleman saddled a horse and started post-haste for
+town. In two days he returned, depressed in spirit. Madeline happened to
+be present when Stillwell talked to Alfred.
+
+“I got there too late, Al,” said the cattleman. “Gene was gone. An’ what
+do you think of this? Danny Mains hed jest left with a couple of burros
+packed. I couldn’t find what way he went, but I’m bettin’ he hit the
+Peloncillo trail.”
+
+“Danny will show up some day,” replied Alfred. “What did you learn about
+Stewart? Maybe he left with Danny.”
+
+“Not much,” said Stillwell, shortly. “Gene’s hell-bent fer election! No
+mountains fer him.”
+
+“Well tell us about him.”
+
+Stillwell wiped his sweaty brow and squared himself to talk.
+
+“Wal, it’s sure amazin’ strange about Gene. Its got me locoed. He
+arrived in El Cajon a week or so ago. He was trained down like as if
+he’d been ridin’ the range all winter. He hed plenty of money—Mex, they
+said. An’ all the Greasers was crazy about him. Called him El Capitan.
+He got drunk an’ went roarin’ round fer Pat Hawe. You remember that
+Greaser who was plugged last October—the night Miss Majesty arrived?
+Wal, he’s daid. He’s daid, an’ people says thet Pat is a-goin’ to lay
+thet killin’ onto Gene. I reckon thet’s jest talk, though Pat is mean
+enough to do it, if he hed the nerve. Anyway, if he was in El Cajon he
+kept mighty much to hisself. Gene walked up an’ down, up an’ down, all
+day an’ night, lookin’ fer Pat. But he didn’t find him. An’, of course,
+he kept gettin’ drunker. He jest got plumb bad. He made lots of trouble,
+but there wasn’t no gun-play. Mebbe thet made him sore, so he went an’
+licked Flo’s brother-in-law. Thet wasn’t so bad. Jack sure needed a good
+lickin’. Wal, then Gene met Danny an’ tried to get Danny drunk. An’
+he couldn’t! What do you think of that? Danny hedn’t been
+drinkin’—wouldn’t touch a drop. I’m sure glad of thet, but it’s amazin’
+strange. Why, Danny was a fish fer red liquor. I guess he an’ Gene had
+some pretty hard words, though I’m not sure about thet. Anyway, Gene
+went down to the railroad an’ he got on an engine, an’ he was in the
+engine when it pulled out. Lord, I hope he doesn’t hold up the train! If
+he gets gay over in Arizona he’ll go to the pen at Yuma. An’ thet pen
+is a graveyard fer cowboys. I wired to agents along the railroad to look
+out fer Stewart, an’ to wire back to me if he’s located.”
+
+“Suppose you do find him, Stillwell, what can you do?” inquired Alfred.
+
+The old man nodded gloomily.
+
+“I straightened him up once. Mebbe I can do it again.” Then, brightening
+somewhat, he turned to Madeline. “I jest hed an idee, Miss Majesty. If
+I can get him, Gene Stewart is the cowboy I want fer my foreman. He
+can manage this bunch of cow-punchers thet are drivin’ me dotty. What’s
+more, since he’s fought fer the rebels an’ got that name El Capitan,
+all the Greasers in the country will kneel to him. Now, Miss Majesty, we
+hevn’t got rid of Don Carlos an’ his vaqueros yet. To be sure, he sold
+you his house an’ ranch an’ stock. But you remember nothin’ was put
+in black and white about when he should get out. An’ Don Carlos ain’t
+gettin’ out. I don’t like the looks of things a little bit. I’ll tell
+you now thet Don Carlos knows somethin’ about the cattle I lost, an’
+thet you’ve been losin’ right along. Thet Greaser is hand an’ glove with
+the rebels. I’m willin’ to gamble thet when he does get out he an’
+his vaqueros will make another one of the bands of guerrillas thet
+are harassin’ the border. This revolution ain’t over’ yet. It’s jest
+commenced. An’ all these gangs of outlaws are goin’ to take advantage
+of it. We’ll see some old times, mebbe. Wal, I need Gene Stewart. I
+need him bad. Will you let me hire him, Miss Majesty, if I can get him
+straightened up?”
+
+The old cattleman ended huskily.
+
+“Stillwell, by all means find Stewart, and do not wait to straighten him
+up. Bring him to the ranch,” replied Madeline.
+
+Thanking her, Stillwell led his horse away.
+
+“Strange how he loves that cowboy!” murmured Madeline.
+
+“Not so strange, Majesty,” replied her brother. “Not when you know.
+Stewart has been with Stillwell on some hard trips into the desert
+alone. There’s no middle course of feeling between men facing death
+in the desert. Either they hate each other or love each other. I don’t
+know, but I imagine Stewart did something for Stillwell—saved us life,
+perhaps. Besides, Stewart’s a lovable chap when he’s going straight.
+I hope Stillwell brings him back. We do need him, Majesty. He’s a born
+leader. Once I saw him ride into a bunch of Mexicans whom we suspected
+of rustling. It was fine to see him. Well, I’m sorry to tell you that we
+are worried about Don Carlos. Some of his vaqueros came into my yard the
+other day when I had left Flo alone. She had a bad scare. These vaqueros
+have been different since Don Carlos sold the ranch. For that matter,
+I never would have trusted a white woman alone with them. But they are
+bolder now. Something’s in the wind. They’ve got assurance. They can
+ride off any night and cross the border.”
+
+During the succeeding week Madeline discovered that a good deal of
+her sympathy for Stillwell in his hunt for the reckless Stewart had
+insensibly grown to be sympathy for the cowboy. It was rather a paradox,
+she thought, that opposed to the continual reports of Stewart’s wildness
+as he caroused from town to town were the continual expressions of good
+will and faith and hope universally given out by those near her at the
+ranch. Stillwell loved the cowboy; Florence was fond of him; Alfred
+liked and admired him, pitied him; the cowboys swore their regard for
+him the more he disgraced himself. The Mexicans called him El Gran
+Capitan. Madeline’s personal opinion of Stewart had not changed in the
+least since the night it had been formed. But certain attributes of his,
+not clearly defined in her mind, and the gift of his beautiful horse,
+his valor with the fighting rebels, and all this strange regard for him,
+especially that of her brother, made her exceedingly regret the cowboy’s
+present behavior.
+
+Meanwhile Stillwell was so earnest and zealous that one not familiar
+with the situation would have believed he was trying to find and reclaim
+his own son. He made several trips to little stations in the valley, and
+from these he returned with a gloomy face. Madeline got the details from
+Alfred. Stewart was going from bad to worse—drunk, disorderly, savage,
+sure to land in the penitentiary. Then came a report that hurried
+Stillwell off to Rodeo. He returned on the third day, a crushed man. He
+had been so bitterly hurt that no one, not even Madeline, could get
+out of him what had happened. He admitted finding Stewart, failing to
+influence him; and when the old cattleman got so far he turned purple in
+the face and talked to himself, as if dazed: “But Gene was drunk. He was
+drunk, or he couldn’t hev treated old Bill like thet!”
+
+Madeline was stirred with an anger toward the brutal cowboy that was
+as strong as her sorrow for the loyal old cattleman. And it was when
+Stillwell gave up that she resolved to take a hand. The persistent faith
+of Stillwell, his pathetic excuses in the face of what must have been
+Stewart’s violence, perhaps baseness, actuated her powerfully, gave
+her new insight into human nature. She honored a faith that remained
+unshaken. And the strange thought came to her that Stewart must somehow
+be worthy of such a faith, or he never could have inspired it. Madeline
+discovered that she wanted to believe that somewhere deep down in the
+most depraved and sinful wretch upon earth there was some grain of good.
+She yearned to have the faith in human nature that Stillwell had in
+Stewart.
+
+She sent Nels, mounted upon his own horse, and leading Majesty, to Rodeo
+in search of Stewart. Nels had instructions to bring Stewart back to the
+ranch. In due time Nels returned, leading the roan without a rider.
+
+“Yep, I shore found him,” replied Nels, when questioned. “Found him half
+sobered up. He’d been in a scrap, an’ somebody hed put him to sleep, I
+guess. Wal, when he seen thet roan hoss he let out a yell an’ grabbed
+him round the neck. The hoss knowed him, all right. Then Gene hugged the
+hoss an’ cried—cried like—I never seen no one who cried like he did. I
+waited awhile, an’ was jest goin’ to say somethin’ to him when he turned
+on me red-eyed, mad as fire. ‘Nels,’ he said, ‘I care a hell of a lot
+fer thet boss, an’ I liked you pretty well, but if you don’t take him
+away quick I’ll shoot you both.’ Wal, I lit out. I didn’t even git to
+say howdy to him.”
+
+“Nels, you think it useless—any attempt to see him—persuade him?”
+ asked Madeline.
+
+“I shore do, Miss Hammond,” replied Nels, gravely. “I’ve seen a few
+sun-blinded an’ locoed an’ snake-poisoned an’ skunk-bitten cow-punchers
+in my day, but Gene Stewart beats ’em all. He’s shore runnin’ wild fer
+the divide.”
+
+Madeline dismissed Nels, but before he got out of earshot she heard him
+speak to Stillwell, who awaited him on the porch.
+
+“Bill, put this in your pipe an’ smoke it—none of them scraps Gene has
+hed was over a woman! It used to be thet when he was drank he’d scrap
+over every pretty Greaser girl he’d run across. Thet’s why Pat Hawe
+thinks Gene plugged the strange vaquero who was with little Bonita thet
+night last fall. Wal, Gene’s scrappin’ now jest to git shot up hisself,
+for some reason thet only God Almighty knows.”
+
+Nels’s story of how Stewart wept over his horse influenced Madeline
+powerfully. Her next move was to persuade Alfred to see if he could not
+do better with this doggedly bent cowboy. Alfred needed only a word
+of persuasion, for he said he had considered going to Rodeo of his own
+accord. He went, and returned alone.
+
+“Majesty, I can’t explain Stewart’s singular actions,” said Alfred. “I
+saw him, talked with him. He knew me, but nothing I said appeared to get
+to him. He has changed terribly. I fancy his once magnificent strength
+is breaking. It—it actually hurt me to look at him. I couldn’t have
+fetched him back here—not as he is now. I heard all about him, and
+if he isn’t downright out of his mind he’s hell-bent, as Bill says, on
+getting killed. Some of his escapades are—are not for your ears.
+Bill did all any man could do for another. We’ve all done our best for
+Stewart. If you’d been given a chance perhaps you could have saved him.
+But it’s too late. Put it out of mind now, dear.”
+
+Madeline, however, did not forget nor give it up. If she had forgotten
+or surrendered, she felt that she would have been relinquishing
+infinitely more than hope to aid one ruined man. But she was at a loss
+to know what further steps to take. Days passed, and each one brought
+additional gossip of Stewart’s headlong career toward the Yuma
+penitentiary. For he had crossed the line into Cochise County, Arizona,
+where sheriffs kept a stricter observance of law. Finally a letter came
+from a friend of Nels’s in Chiricahua saying that Stewart had been hurt
+in a brawl there. His hurt was not serious, but it would probably
+keep him quiet long enough to get sober, and this opportunity, Nels’s
+informant said, would be a good one for Stewart’s friends to take him
+home before he got locked up. This epistle inclosed a letter to Stewart
+from his sister. Evidently, it had been found upon him. It told a story
+of illness and made an appeal for aid. Nels’s friend forwarded this
+letter without Stewart’s knowledge, thinking Stillwell might care to
+help Stewart’s family. Stewart had no money, he said.
+
+The sister’s letter found its way to Madeline. She read it, tears in
+her eyes. It told Madeline much more than its brief story of illness and
+poverty and wonder why Gene had not written home for so long. It told of
+motherly love, sisterly love, brotherly love—dear family ties that had
+not been broken. It spoke of pride in this El Capitan brother who had
+become famous. It was signed “your loving sister Letty.”
+
+Not improbably, Madeline revolved in mind, this letter was one reason
+for Stewart’s headstrong, long-continued abasement. It had been received
+too late—after he had squandered the money that would have meant so
+much to mother and sister. Be that as it might, Madeline immediately
+sent a bank-draft to Stewart’s sister with a letter explaining that
+the money was drawn in advance on Stewart’s salary. This done, she
+impulsively determined to go to Chiricahua herself.
+
+The horseback-rides Madeline had taken to this little Arizona hamlet had
+tried her endurance to the utmost; but the journey by automobile, except
+for some rocky bits of road and sandy stretches, was comfortable, and
+a matter of only a few hours. The big touring-car was still a kind of
+seventh wonder to the Mexicans and cowboys; not that automobiles were
+very new and strange, but because this one was such an enormous machine
+and capable of greater speed than an express-train. The chauffeur who
+had arrived with the car found his situation among the jealous cowboys
+somewhat far removed from a bed of roses. He had been induced to remain
+long enough to teach the operating and mechanical technique of the car.
+And choice fell upon Link Stevens, for the simple reason that of all the
+cowboys he was the only one with any knack for mechanics. Now Link
+had been a hard-riding, hard-driving cowboy, and that winter he had
+sustained an injury to his leg, caused by a bad fall, and was unable to
+sit his horse. This had been gall and wormwood to him. But when the big
+white automobile came and he was elected to drive it, life was once more
+worth living for him. But all the other cowboys regarded Link and his
+machine as some correlated species of demon. They were deathly afraid of
+both.
+
+It was for this reason that Nels, when Madeline asked him to accompany
+her to Chiricahua, replied, reluctantly, that he would rather follow on
+his horse. However, she prevailed over his hesitancy, and with Florence
+also in the car they set out. For miles and miles the valley road
+was smooth, hard-packed, and slightly downhill. And when speeding was
+perfectly safe, Madeline was not averse to it. The grassy plain sailed
+backward in gray sheets, and the little dot in the valley grew larger
+and larger. From time to time Link glanced round at unhappy Nels, whose
+eyes were wild and whose hands clutched his seat. While the car was
+crossing the sandy and rocky places, going slowly, Nels appeared
+to breathe easier. And when it stopped in the wide, dusty street of
+Chiricahua Nels gladly tumbled out.
+
+“Nels, we shall wait here in the car while you find Stewart,” said
+Madeline.
+
+“Miss Hammond, I reckon Gene’ll run when he sees us, if he’s able to
+run,” replied Nels. “Wal, I’ll go find him an’ make up my mind then what
+we’d better do.”
+
+Nels crossed the railroad track and disappeared behind the low, flat
+houses. After a little time he reappeared and hurried up to the car.
+Madeline felt his gray gaze searching her face.
+
+“Miss Hammond, I found him,” said Nels. “He was sleepin’. I woke him.
+He’s sober an’ not bad hurt; but I don’t believe you ought to see him.
+Mebbe Florence—”
+
+“Nels, I want to see him myself. Why not? What did he say when you told
+him I was here?”
+
+“Shore I didn’t tell him that. I jest says, ‘Hullo, Gene!’ an’ he says,
+‘My Gawd! Nels! mebbe I ain’t glad to see a human bein’.’ He asked me
+who was with me, an’ I told him Link an’ some friends. I said I’d fetch
+them in. He hollered at thet. But I went, anyway. Now, if you really
+will see him, Miss Hammond, it’s a good chance. But shore it’s a touchy
+matter, an’ you’ll be some sick at sight of him. He’s layin’ in a
+Greaser hole over here. Likely the Greasers hev been kind to him. But
+they’re shore a poor lot.”
+
+Madeline did not hesitate a moment.
+
+“Thank you, Nels. Take me at once. Come, Florence.”
+
+They left the car, now surrounded by gaping-eyed Mexican children,
+and crossed the dusty space to a narrow lane between red adobe walls.
+Passing by several houses, Nels stopped at the door of what appeared to
+be an alleyway leading back. It was filthy.
+
+“He’s in there, around thet first corner. It’s a patio, open an’ sunny.
+An’, Miss Hammond, if you don’t mind, I’ll wait here for you. I reckon
+Gene wouldn’t like any fellers around when he sees you girls.”
+
+It was that which made Madeline hesitate then and go forward slowly.
+She had given no thought at all to what Stewart might feel when suddenly
+surprised by her presence.
+
+“Florence, you wait also,” said Madeline, at the doorway, and turned in
+alone.
+
+And she had stepped into a broken-down patio littered with alfalfa straw
+and debris, all clear in the sunlight. Upon a bench, back toward her,
+sat a man looking out through the rents in the broken wall. He had
+not heard her. The place was not quite so filthy and stifling as the
+passages Madeline had come through to get there. Then she saw that it
+had been used as a corral. A rat ran boldly across the dirt floor.
+The air swarmed with flies, which the man brushed at with weary hand.
+Madeline did not recognize Stewart. The side of his face exposed to her
+gaze was black, bruised, bearded. His clothes were ragged and soiled.
+There were bits of alfalfa in his hair. His shoulders sagged. He made a
+wretched and hopeless figure sitting there. Madeline divined something
+of why Nels shrank from being present.
+
+“Mr. Stewart. It is I, Miss Hammond, come to see you,” she said.
+
+He grew suddenly perfectly motionless, as if he had been changed to
+stone. She repeated her greeting.
+
+His body jerked. He moved violently as if instinctively to turn and face
+this intruder; but a more violent movement checked him.
+
+Madeline waited. How singular that this ruined cowboy had pride which
+kept him from showing his face! And was it not shame more than pride?
+
+“Mr. Stewart, I have come to talk with you, if you will let me.”
+
+“Go away,” he muttered.
+
+“Mr. Stewart!” she began, with involuntary hauteur. But instantly she
+corrected herself, became deliberate and cool, for she saw that she
+might fail to be even heard by this man. “I have come to help you. Will
+you let me?”
+
+“For God’s sake! You—you—” he choked over the words. “Go away!”
+
+“Stewart, perhaps it was for God’s sake that I came,” said Madeline,
+gently. “Surely it was for yours—and your sister’s—” Madeline bit her
+tongue, for she had not meant to betray her knowledge of Letty.
+
+He groaned, and, staggering up to the broken wall, he leaned there with
+his face hidden. Madeline reflected that perhaps the slip of speech had
+been well.
+
+“Stewart, please let me say what I have to say?”
+
+He was silent. And she gathered courage and inspiration.
+
+“Stillwell is deeply hurt, deeply grieved that he could not turn you
+back from this—this fatal course. My brother is also. They wanted to
+help you. And so do I. I have come, thinking somehow I might succeed
+where they have failed. Nels brought your sister’s letter. I—I read it.
+I was only the more determined to try to help you, and indirectly
+help your mother and Letty. Stewart, we want you to come to the ranch.
+Stillwell needs you for his foreman. The position is open to you, and
+you can name your salary. Both Al and Stillwell are worried about Don
+Carlos, the vaqueros, and the raids down along the border. My cowboys
+are without a capable leader. Will you come?”
+
+“No,” he answered.
+
+“But Stillwell wants you so badly.”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Stewart, I want you to come.”
+
+“No.”
+
+His replies had been hoarse, loud, furious. They disconcerted Madeline,
+and she paused, trying to think of a way to proceed. Stewart staggered
+away from the wall, and, falling upon the bench, he hid his face in his
+hands. All his motions, like his speech, had been violent.
+
+“Will you please go away?” he asked.
+
+“Stewart, certainly I cannot remain here longer if you insist upon my
+going. But why not listen to me when I want so much to help you? Why?”
+
+“I’m a damned blackguard,” he burst out. “But I was a gentleman once,
+and I’m not so low that I can stand for you seeing me here.”
+
+“When I made up my mind to help you I made it up to see you wherever you
+were. Stewart, come away, come back with us to the ranch. You are in a
+bad condition now. Everything looks black to you. But that will pass.
+When you are among friends again you will get well. You will be your
+old self. The very fact that you were once a gentleman, that you come of
+good family, makes you owe so much more to yourself. Why, Stewart, think
+how young you are! It is a shame to waste your life. Come back with me.”
+
+“Miss Hammond, this was my last plunge,” he replied, despondently. “It’s
+too late.”
+
+“Oh no, it is not so bad as that.”
+
+“It’s too late.”
+
+“At least make an effort, Stewart. Try!”
+
+“No. There’s no use. I’m done for. Please leave me—thank you for—”
+
+He had been savage, then sullen, and now he was grim. Madeline all but
+lost power to resist his strange, deadly, cold finality. No doubt he
+knew he was doomed. Yet something halted her—held her even as she took
+a backward step. And she became conscious of a subtle change in her own
+feeling. She had come into that squalid hole, Madeline Hammond, earnest
+enough, kind enough in her own intentions; but she had been almost
+imperious—a woman habitually, proudly used to being obeyed. She divined
+that all the pride, blue blood, wealth, culture, distinction, all the
+impersonal condescending persuasion, all the fatuous philanthropy on
+earth would not avail to turn this man a single hair’s-breadth from his
+downward career to destruction. Her coming had terribly augmented
+his bitter hate of himself. She was going to fail to help him. She
+experienced a sensation of impotence that amounted almost to distress.
+The situation assumed a tragic keenness. She had set forth to reverse
+the tide of a wild cowboy’s fortunes; she faced the swift wasting of his
+life, the damnation of his soul. The subtle consciousness of change in
+her was the birth of that faith she had revered in Stillwell. And all at
+once she became merely a woman, brave and sweet and indomitable.
+
+“Stewart, look at me,” she said.
+
+He shuddered. She advanced and laid a hand on his bent shoulder. Under
+the light touch he appeared to sink.
+
+“Look at me,” she repeated.
+
+But he could not lift his head. He was abject, crushed. He dared not
+show his swollen, blackened face. His fierce, cramped posture revealed
+more than his features might have shown; it betrayed the torturing shame
+of a man of pride and passion, a man who had been confronted in his
+degradation by the woman he had dared to enshrine in his heart. It
+betrayed his love.
+
+“Listen, then,” went on Madeline, and her voice was unsteady. “Listen to
+me, Stewart. The greatest men are those who have fallen deepest into
+the mire, sinned most, suffered most, and then have fought their evil
+natures and conquered. I think you can shake off this desperate mood and
+be a man.”
+
+“No!” he cried.
+
+“Listen to me again. Somehow I know you’re worthy of Stillwell’s love.
+Will you come back with us—for his sake?”
+
+“No. It’s too late, I tell you.”
+
+“Stewart, the best thing in life is faith in human nature. I have faith
+in you. I believe you are worth it.”
+
+“You’re only kind and good—saying that. You can’t mean it.”
+
+“I mean it with all my heart,” she replied, a sudden rich warmth
+suffusing her body as she saw the first sign of his softening. “Will you
+come back—if not for your own sake or Stillwell’s—then for mine?”
+
+“What am I to such a woman as you?”
+
+“A man in trouble, Stewart. But I have come to help you, to show my
+faith in you.”
+
+“If I believed that I might try,” he said.
+
+“Listen,” she began, softly, hurriedly. “My word is not lightly given.
+Let it prove my faith in you. Look at me now and say you will come.”
+
+He heaved up his big frame as if trying to cast off a giant’s burden,
+and then slowly he turned toward her. His face was a blotched and
+terrible thing. The physical brutalizing marks were there, and at that
+instant all that appeared human to Madeline was the dawning in dead,
+furnace-like eyes of a beautiful light.
+
+“I’ll come,” he whispered, huskily. “Give me a few days to straighten
+up, then I’ll come.”
+
+
+
+
+IX. The New Foreman
+
+
+Toward the end of the week Stillwell informed Madeline that Stewart had
+arrived at the ranch and had taken up quarters with Nels.
+
+“Gene’s sick. He looks bad,” said the old cattleman. “He’s so weak an’
+shaky he can’t lift a cup. Nels says that Gene has hed some bad spells.
+A little liquor would straighten him up now. But Nels can’t force him
+to drink a drop, an’ has hed to sneak some liquor in his coffee. Wal, I
+think we’ll pull Gene through. He’s forgotten a lot. I was goin’ to tell
+him what he did to me up at Rodeo. But I know if he’d believe it he’d
+be sicker than he is. Gene’s losin’ his mind, or he’s got somethin’
+powerful strange on it.”
+
+From that time Stillwell, who evidently found Madeline his most
+sympathetic listener, unburdened himself daily of his hopes and fears
+and conjectures.
+
+Stewart was really ill. It became necessary to send Link Stevens for a
+physician. Then Stewart began slowly to mend and presently was able to
+get up and about. Stillwell said the cowboy lacked interest and seemed
+to be a broken man. This statement, however, the old cattleman modified
+as Stewart continued to improve. Then presently it was a good augury
+of Stewart’s progress that the cowboys once more took up the teasing
+relation which had been characteristic of them before his illness. A
+cowboy was indeed out of sorts when he could not vent his peculiar humor
+on somebody or something. Stewart had evidently become a broad target
+for their badinage.
+
+“Wal, the boys are sure after Gene,” said Stillwell, with his huge
+smile. “Joshin’ him all the time about how he sits around an’ hangs
+around an’ loafs around jest to get a glimpse of you, Miss Majesty. Sure
+all the boys hev a pretty bad case over their pretty boss, but none
+of them is a marker to Gene. He’s got it so bad, Miss Majesty, thet he
+actooly don’t know they are joshin’ him. It’s the amazin’est strange
+thing I ever seen. Why, Gene was always a feller thet you could josh.
+An’ he’d laugh an’ get back at you. But he was never before deaf to
+talk, an’ there was a certain limit no feller cared to cross with him.
+Now he takes every word an’ smiles dreamy like, an’ jest looks an’
+looks. Why, he’s beginnin’ to make me tired. He’ll never run thet bunch
+of cowboys if he doesn’t wake up quick.”
+
+Madeline smiled her amusement and expressed a belief that Stillwell
+wanted too much in such short time from a man who had done body and mind
+a grievous injury.
+
+It had been impossible for Madeline to fail to observe Stewart’s
+singular behavior. She never went out to take her customary walks and
+rides without seeing him somewhere in the distance. She was aware that
+he watched for her and avoided meeting her. When she sat on the porch
+during the afternoon or at sunset Stewart could always be descried at
+some point near. He idled listlessly in the sun, lounged on the porch
+of his bunk-house, sat whittling the top bar of the corral fence, and
+always it seemed to Madeline he was watching her. Once, while going
+the rounds with her gardener, she encountered Stewart and greeted
+him kindly. He said little, but he was not embarrassed. She did not
+recognize in his face any feature that she remembered. In fact, on each
+of the few occasions when she had met Stewart he had looked so different
+that she had no consistent idea of his facial appearance. He was now
+pale, haggard, drawn. His eyes held a shadow through which shone a soft,
+subdued light; and, once having observed this, Madeline fancied it was
+like the light in Majesty’s eyes, in the dumb, worshiping eyes of her
+favorite stag-hound. She told Stewart that she hoped he would soon be in
+the saddle again, and passed on her way.
+
+That Stewart loved her Madeline could not help but see. She endeavored
+to think of him as one of the many who, she was glad to know, liked
+her. But she could not regulate her thoughts to fit the order her
+intelligence prescribed. Thought of Stewart dissociated itself from
+thought of the other cowboys. When she discovered this she felt a little
+surprise and annoyance. Then she interrogated herself, and concluded
+that it was not that Stewart was so different from his comrades, but
+that circumstances made him stand out from them. She recalled her
+meeting with him that night when he had tried to force her to marry him.
+This was unforgettable in itself. She called subsequent mention of him,
+and found it had been peculiarly memorable. The man and his actions
+seemed to hinge on events. Lastly, the fact standing clear of all others
+in its relation to her interest was that he had been almost ruined,
+almost lost, and she had saved him. That alone was sufficient to explain
+why she thought of him differently. She had befriended, uplifted the
+other cowboys; she had saved Stewart’s life. To be sure, he had been a
+ruffian, but a woman could not save the life of even a ruffian without
+remembering it with gladness. Madeline at length decided her interest in
+Stewart was natural, and that her deeper feeling was pity. Perhaps the
+interest had been forced from her; however, she gave the pity as she
+gave everything.
+
+Stewart recovered his strength, though not in time to ride at the spring
+round-up; and Stillwell discussed with Madeline the advisability of
+making the cowboy his foreman.
+
+“Wal, Gene seems to be gettin’ along,” said Stillwell. “But he ain’t
+like his old self. I think more of him at thet. But where’s his spirit?
+The boys’d ride rough-shod all over him. Mebbe I’d do best to wait
+longer now, as the slack season is on. All the same, if those vaquero of
+Don Carlos’s don’t lay low I’ll send Gene over there. Thet’ll wake him
+up.”
+
+A few days afterward Stillwell came to Madeline, rubbing his big hands
+in satisfaction and wearing a grin that was enormous.
+
+“Miss Majesty, I reckon before this I’ve said things was amazin’
+strange. But now Gene Stewart has gone an’ done it! Listen to me. Them
+Greasers down on our slope hev been gettin’ prosperous. They’re growin’
+like bad weeds. An’ they got a new padre—the little old feller from
+El Cajon, Padre Marcos. Wal, this was all right, all the boys thought,
+except Gene. An’ he got blacker ’n thunder an’ roared round like a
+dehorned bull. I was sure glad to see he could get mad again. Then Gene
+haids down the slope fer the church. Nels an’ me follered him, thinkin’
+he might hev been took sudden with a crazy spell or somethin’. He hasn’t
+never been jest right yet since he left off drinkin’. Wal, we run into
+him comin’ out of the church. We never was so dumfounded in our lives.
+Gene was crazy, all right—he sure hed a spell. But it was the kind of
+a spell he hed thet paralyzed us. He ran past us like a streak, an’ we
+follered. We couldn’t ketch him. We heerd him laugh—the strangest laugh
+I ever heerd! You’d thought the feller was suddenly made a king. He was
+like thet feller who was tied in a bunyin’-sack an’ throwed into the
+sea, an’ cut his way out, an’ swam to the island where the treasures
+was, an’ stood up yellin’, ‘The world is mine.’ Wal, when we got up to
+his bunk-house he was gone. He didn’t come back all day an’ all night.
+Frankie Slade, who has a sharp tongue, says Gene hed gone crazy for
+liquor an’ thet was his finish. Nels was some worried. An’ I was sick.
+
+“Wal’ this mawnin’ I went over to Nels’s bunk. Some of the fellers was
+there, all speculatin’ about Gene. Then big as life Gene struts round
+the corner. He wasn’t the same Gene. His face was pale an’ his eyes
+burned like fire. He had thet old mockin’, cool smile, an’ somethin’
+besides thet I couldn’t understand. Frankie Slade up an’ made a
+remark—no wuss than he’d been makin’ fer days—an’ Gene tumbled him out
+of his chair, punched him good, walked all over him. Frankie wasn’t hurt
+so much as he was bewildered. ‘Gene,’ he says, ‘what the hell struck
+you?’ An’ Gene says, kind of sweet like, ‘Frankie, you may be a nice
+feller when you’re alone, but your talk’s offensive to a gentleman.’
+
+“After thet what was said to Gene was with a nice smile. Now, Miss
+Majesty, it’s beyond me what to allow for Gene’s sudden change. First
+off, I thought Padre Marcos had converted him. I actooly thought thet.
+But I reckon it’s only Gene Stewart come back—the old Gene Stewart an’
+some. Thet’s all I care about. I’m rememberin’ how I once told you thet
+Gene was the last of the cowboys. Perhaps I should hev said he’s the
+last of my kind of cowboys. Wal, Miss Majesty, you’ll be apprecatin’ of
+what I meant from now on.”
+
+It was also beyond Madeline to account for Gene Stewart’s antics, and,
+making allowance for the old cattleman’s fancy, she did not weigh his
+remarks very heavily. She guessed why Stewart might have been angry at
+the presence of Padre Marcos. Madeline supposed that it was rather an
+unusual circumstance for a cowboy to be converted to religious belief.
+But it was possible. And she knew that religious fervor often manifested
+itself in extremes of feeling and action. Most likely, in Stewart’s
+case, his real manner had been both misunderstood and exaggerated.
+However, Madeline had a curious desire, which she did not wholly admit
+to herself, to see the cowboy and make her own deductions.
+
+The opportunity did not present itself for nearly two weeks. Stewart had
+taken up his duties as foreman, and his activities were ceaseless. He
+was absent most of the time, ranging down toward the Mexican line. When
+he returned Stillwell sent for him.
+
+This was late in the afternoon of a day in the middle of April. Alfred
+and Florence were with Madeline on the porch. They saw the cowboy turn
+his horse over to one of the Mexican boys at the corral and then come
+with weary step up to the house, beating the dust out of his gauntlets.
+Little streams of gray sand trickled from his sombrero as he removed it
+and bowed to the women.
+
+Madeline saw the man she remembered, but with a singularly different
+aspect. His skin was brown; his eyes were piercing and dark and steady;
+he carried himself erect; he seemed preoccupied, and there was not a
+trace of embarrassment in his manner.
+
+“Wal, Gene, I’m sure glad to see you,” Stillwell was saying. “Where do
+you hail from?”
+
+“Guadaloupe Canyon,” replied the cowboy.
+
+Stillwell whistled.
+
+“Way down there! You don’t mean you follered them hoss tracks thet far?”
+
+“All the way from Don Carlos’s rancho across the Mexican line. I took
+Nick Steele with me. Nick is the best tracker in the outfit. This trail
+we were on led along the foothill valleys. First we thought whoever made
+it was hunting for water. But they passed two ranches without watering.
+At Seaton’s Wash they dug for water. Here they met a pack-train of
+burros that came down the mountain trail. The burros were heavily
+loaded. Horse and burro tracks struck south from Seaton’s to the old
+California emigrant road. We followed the trail through Guadelope Canyon
+and across the border. On the way back we stopped at Slaughter’s ranch,
+where the United States cavalry are camping. There we met foresters from
+the Peloncillo forest reserve. If these fellows knew anything they kept
+it to themselves. So we hit the trail home.”
+
+“Wal, I reckon you know enough?” inquired Stillwell, slowly.
+
+“I reckon,” replied Stewart.
+
+“Wal, out with it, then,” said Stillwell, gruffly. “Miss Hammond can’t
+be kept in the dark much longer. Make your report to her.”
+
+The cowboy shifted his dark gaze to Madeline. He was cool and slow.
+
+“We’re losing a few cattle on the open range. Night-drives by the
+vaqueros. Some of these cattle are driven across the valley, others up
+to the foothills. So far as I can find out no cattle are being driven
+south. So this raiding is a blind to fool the cowboys. Don Carlos is a
+Mexican rebel. He located his rancho here a few years ago and pretended
+to raise cattle. All that time he has been smuggling arms and ammunition
+across the border. He was for Madero against Diaz. Now he is against
+Madero because he and all the rebels think Madero failed to keep his
+promises. There will be another revolution. And all the arms go from
+the States across the border. Those burros I told about were packed with
+contraband goods.”
+
+“That’s a matter for the United States cavalry. They are patrolling the
+border,” said Alfred.
+
+“They can’t stop the smuggling of arms, not down in that wild corner,”
+ replied Stewart.
+
+“What is my—my duty? What has it to do with me?” inquired Madeline,
+somewhat perturbed.
+
+“Wal, Miss Majesty, I reckon it hasn’t nothing to do with you,” put in
+Stillwell. “Thet’s my bizness an’ Stewart’s. But I jest wanted you to
+know. There might be some trouble follerin’ my orders.”
+
+“Your orders?”
+
+“I want to send Stewart over to fire Don Carlos an’ his vaqueros off the
+range. They’ve got to go. Don Carlos is breakin’ the law of the United
+States, an’ doin’ it on our property an’ with our hosses. Hev I your
+permission, Miss Hammond?”
+
+“Why, assuredly you have! Stillwell, you know what to do. Alfred, what
+do you think best?”
+
+“It’ll make trouble, Majesty, but it’s got to be done,” replied Alfred.
+“Here you have a crowd of Eastern friends due next month. We want the
+range to ourselves then. But, Stillwell, if you drive those vaqueros
+off, won’t they hang around in the foothills? I declare they are a bad
+lot.”
+
+Stillwell’s mind was not at ease. He paced the porch with a frown
+clouding his brow.
+
+“Gene, I reckon you got this Greaser deal figgered better’n me,” said
+Stillwell. “Now what do you say?”
+
+“He’ll have to be forced off,” replied Stewart, quietly. “The Don’s
+pretty slick, but his vaqueros are bad actors. It’s just this way. Nels
+said the other day to me, ‘Gene, I haven’t packed a gun for years
+until lately, and it feels good whenever I meet any of those strange
+Greasers.’ You see, Stillwell, Don Carlos has vaqueros coming and going
+all the time. They’re guerrilla bands, that’s all. And they’re getting
+uglier. There have been several shooting-scrapes lately. A rancher named
+White, who lives up the valley, was badly hurt. It’s only a matter of
+time till something stirs up the boys here. Stillwell, you know Nels and
+Monty and Nick.”
+
+“Sure I know ’em. An’ you’re not mentionin’ one more particular cowboy
+in my outfit,” said Stillwell, with a dry chuckle and a glance at
+Stewart.
+
+Madeline divined the covert meaning, and a slight chill passed over her,
+as if a cold wind had blown in from the hills.
+
+“Stewart, I see you carry a gun,” she said, pointing to a black handle
+protruding from a sheath swinging low along his leather chaps.
+
+“Yes, ma’am.”
+
+“Why do you carry it?” she asked.
+
+“Well,” he said, “it’s not a pretty gun—and it’s heavy.” She caught
+the inference. The gun was not an ornament. His keen, steady, dark gaze
+caused her vague alarm. What had once seemed cool and audacious about
+this cowboy was now cold and powerful and mystical. Both her instinct
+and her intelligence realized the steel fiber of the man’s nature. As
+she was his employer, she had the right to demand that he should not do
+what was so chillingly manifest that he might do. But Madeline could
+not demand. She felt curiously young and weak, and the five months of
+Western life were as if they had never been. She now had to do with a
+question involving human life. And the value she placed upon human
+life and its spiritual significance was a matter far from her cowboy’s
+thoughts. A strange idea flashed up. Did she place too much value
+upon all human life? She checked that, wondering, almost horrified
+at herself. And then her intuition told her that she possessed a far
+stronger power to move these primitive men than any woman’s stern rule
+or order.
+
+“Stewart, I do not fully understand what you hint that Nels and his
+comrades might do. Please be frank with me. Do you mean Nels would shoot
+upon little provocation?”
+
+“Miss Hammond, as far as Nels is concerned, shooting is now just a
+matter of his meeting Don Carlos’s vaqueros. It’s wonderful what Nels
+has stood from them, considering the Mexicans he’s already killed.”
+
+“Already killed! Stewart, you are not in earnest?” cried Madeline,
+shocked.
+
+“I am. Nels has seen hard life along the Arizona border. He likes peace
+as well as any man. But a few years of that doesn’t change what the
+early days made of him. As for Nick Steele and Monty, they’re just bad
+men, and looking for trouble.”
+
+“How about yourself, Stewart? Stillwell’s remark was not lost upon me,”
+ said Madeline, prompted by curiosity.
+
+Stewart did not reply. He looked at her in respectful silence. In her
+keen earnestness Madeline saw beneath his cool exterior and was all
+the more baffled. Was there a slight, inscrutable, mocking light in his
+eyes, or was it only her imagination? However, the cowboy’s face was as
+hard as flint.
+
+“Stewart, I have come to love my ranch,” said Madeline, slowly, “and I
+care a great deal for my—my cowboys. It would be dreadful if they were
+to kill anybody, or especially if one of them should be killed.”
+
+“Miss Hammond, you’ve changed things considerable out here, but you
+can’t change these men. All that’s needed to start them is a little
+trouble. And this Mexican revolution is bound to make rough times along
+some of the wilder passes across the border. We’re in line, that’s all.
+And the boys are getting stirred up.”
+
+“Very well, then, I must accept the inevitable. I am facing a rough
+time. And some of my cowboys cannot be checked much longer. But,
+Stewart, whatever you have been in the past, you have changed.” She
+smiled at him, and her voice was singularly sweet and rich. “Stillwell
+has so often referred to you as the last of his kind of cowboy. I have
+just a faint idea of what a wild life you have led. Perhaps that fits
+you to be a leader of such rough men. I am no judge of what a leader
+should do in this crisis. My cowboys are entailing risk in my employ; my
+property is not safe; perhaps my life even might be endangered. I want
+to rely upon you, since Stillwell believes, and I, too, that you are the
+man for this place. I shall give you no orders. But is it too much to
+ask that you be my kind of a cowboy?”
+
+Madeline remembered Stewart’s former brutality and shame and abject
+worship, and she measured the great change in him by the contrast
+afforded now in his dark, changeless, intent face.
+
+“Miss Hammond, what kind of a cowboy is that?” he asked.
+
+“I—I don’t exactly know. It is that kind which I feel you might be. But
+I do know that in the problem at hand I want your actions to be governed
+by reason, not passion. Human life is not for any man to sacrifice
+unless in self-defense or in protecting those dependent upon him. What
+Stillwell and you hinted makes me afraid of Nels and Nick Steele and
+Monty. Cannot they be controlled? I want to feel that they will not go
+gunning for Don Carlos’s men. I want to avoid all violence. And yet
+when my guests come I want to feel that they will be safe from danger or
+fright or even annoyance. May I not rely wholly upon you, Stewart? Just
+trust you to manage these obstreperous cowboys and protect my property
+and Alfred’s, and take care of us—of me, until this revolution is
+ended? I have never had a day’s worry since I bought the ranch. It is
+not that I want to shirk my responsibilities; it is that I like being
+happy. May I put so much faith in you?”
+
+“I hope so, Miss Hammond,” replied Stewart. It was an instant response,
+but none the less fraught with consciousness of responsibility. He
+waited a moment, and then, as neither Stillwell nor Madeline offered
+further speech, he bowed and turned down the path, his long spurs
+clinking in the gravel.
+
+“Wal, wal,” exclaimed Stillwell, “thet’s no little job you give him,
+Miss Majesty.”
+
+“It was a woman’s cunning, Stillwell,” said Alfred. “My sister used to
+be a wonder at getting her own way when we were kids. Just a smile
+or two, a few sweet words or turns of thought, and she had what she
+wanted.”
+
+“Al, what a character to give me!” protested Madeline. “Indeed, I was
+deeply in earnest with Stewart. I do not understand just why, but I
+trust him. He seems like iron and steel. Then I was a little frightened
+at the prospect of trouble with the vaqueros. Both you and Stillwell
+have influenced me to look upon Stewart as invaluable. I thought it best
+to confess my utter helplessness and to look to him for support.”
+
+“Majesty, whatever actuated you, it was a stroke of diplomacy,” replied
+her brother. “Stewart has got good stuff in him. He was down and out.
+Well, he’s made a game fight, and it looks as if he’d win. Trusting
+him, giving him responsibility, relying upon him, was the surest way to
+strengthen his hold upon himself. Then that little touch of sentiment
+about being your kind of cowboy and protecting you—well, if Gene
+Stewart doesn’t develop into an Argus-eyed knight I’ll say I don’t know
+cowboys. But, Majesty, remember, he’s a composite of tiger breed and
+forked lightning, and don’t imagine he has failed you if he gets into a
+fight.
+
+“I’ll sure tell you what Gene Stewart will do,” said Florence. “Don’t I
+know cowboys? Why, they used to take me up on their horses when I was a
+baby. Gene Stewart will be the kind of cowboy your sister said he might
+be, whatever that is. She may not know and we may not guess, but he
+knows.”
+
+“Wal, Flo, there you hit plumb center,” replied the old cattleman. “An’
+I couldn’t be gladder if he was my own son.”
+
+
+
+
+X. Don Carlos’s Vaqueros
+
+
+Early the following morning Stewart, with a company of cowboys, departed
+for Don Carlos’s rancho. As the day wore on without any report from
+him, Stillwell appeared to grow more at ease; and at nightfall he told
+Madeline that he guessed there was now no reason for concern.
+
+“Wal, though it’s sure amazin’ strange,” he continued, “I’ve been
+worryin’ some about how we was goin’ to fire Don Carlos. But Gene has a
+way of doin’ things.”
+
+Next day Stillwell and Alfred decided to ride over Don Carlos’s place,
+taking Madeline and Florence with them, and upon the return trip to stop
+at Alfred’s ranch. They started in the cool, gray dawn, and after three
+hours’ riding, as the sun began to get bright, they entered a mesquite
+grove, surrounding corrals and barns, and a number of low, squat
+buildings and a huge, rambling structure, all built of adobe and mostly
+crumbling to ruin. Only one green spot relieved the bald red of grounds
+and walls; and this evidently was made by the spring which had given
+both value and fame to Don Carlos’s range. The approach to the house was
+through a wide courtyard, bare, stony, hard packed, with hitching-rails
+and watering-troughs in front of a long porch. Several dusty, tired
+horses stood with drooping heads and bridles down, their wet flanks
+attesting to travel just ended.
+
+“Wal, dog-gone it, Al, if there ain’t Pat Hawe’s hoss I’ll eat it,”
+ exclaimed Stillwell.
+
+“What’s Pat want here, anyhow?” growled Alfred.
+
+No one was in sight; but Madeline heard loud voices coming from the
+house. Stillwell dismounted at the porch and stalked in at the door.
+Alfred leaped off his horse, helped Florence and Madeline down, and,
+bidding them rest and wait on the porch, he followed Stillwell.
+
+“I hate these Greaser places,” said Florence, with a grimace. “They’re
+so mysterious and creepy. Just watch now! They’ll be dark-skinned,
+beady-eyed, soft-footed Greasers slip right up out of the ground!
+There’ll be an ugly face in every door and window and crack.”
+
+“It’s like a huge barn with its characteristic odor permeated by tobacco
+smoke,” replied Madeline, sitting down beside Florence. “I don’t think
+very much of this end of my purchase. Florence, isn’t that Don Carlos’s
+black horse over there in the corral?”
+
+“It sure is. Then the Don’s heah yet. I wish we hadn’t been in such a
+hurry to come over. There! that doesn’t sound encouraging.”
+
+From the corridor came the rattling of spurs, tramping of boots, and
+loud voices. Madeline detected Alfred’s quick notes when he was annoyed:
+“We’ll rustle back home, then,” he said. The answer came, “No!” Madeline
+recognized Stewart’s voice, and she quickly straightened up. “I won’t
+have them in here,” went on Alfred.
+
+“Outdoors or in, they’ve got to be with us!” replied Stewart, sharply.
+“Listen, Al,” came the boom of Stillwell’s big voice, “now that we’ve
+butted in over hyar with the girls, you let Stewart run things.”
+
+Then a crowd of men tramped pell-mell out upon the porch. Stewart,
+dark-browed and somber, was in the lead. Nels hung close to him, and
+Madeline’s quick glance saw that Nels had undergone some indescribable
+change. The grinning, brilliant-eyed Don Carlos came jostling out beside
+a gaunt, sharp-featured man wearing a silver shield. This, no doubt,
+was Pat Hawe. In the background behind Stillwell and Alfred stood Nick
+Steele, head and shoulders over a number of vaqueros and cowboys.
+
+“Miss Hammond, I’m sorry you came,” said Stewart, bluntly. “We’re in a
+muddle here. I’ve insisted that you and Flo be kept close to us. I’ll
+explain later. If you can’t stop your ears I beg you to overlook rough
+talk.”
+
+With that he turned to the men behind him: “Nick, take Booly, go back to
+Monty and the boys. Fetch out that stuff. All of it. Rustle, now!”
+
+Stillwell and Alfred disengaged themselves from the crowd to take up
+positions in front of Madeline and Florence. Pat Hawe leaned against a
+post and insolently ogled Madeline and then Florence. Don Carlos pressed
+forward. His whole figure filled Madeline’s reluctant but fascinated
+eyes. He wore tight velveteen breeches, with a heavy fold down the
+outside seam, which was ornamented with silver buttons. Round his waist
+was a sash, and a belt with fringed holster, from which protruded a
+pearl-handled gun. A vest or waistcoat, richly embroidered, partly
+concealed a blouse of silk and wholly revealed a silken scarf round his
+neck. His swarthy face showed dark lines, like cords, under the surface.
+His little eyes were exceedingly prominent and glittering. To Madeline
+his face seemed to be a bold, handsome mask through which his eyes
+piercingly betrayed the evil nature of the man.
+
+He bowed low with elaborate and sinuous grace. His smile revealed
+brilliant teeth, enhanced the brilliance of his eyes. He slowly spread
+deprecatory hands.
+
+“Senoritas, I beg a thousand pardons,” he said. How strange it was for
+Madeline to hear English spoken in a soft, whiningly sweet accent! “The
+gracious hospitality of Don Carlos has passed with his house.”
+
+Stewart stepped forward and, thrusting Don Carlos aside, he called,
+“Make way, there!”
+
+The crowd fell back to the tramp of heavy boots. Cowboys appeared
+staggering out of the corridor with long boxes. These they placed side
+by side upon the floor of the porch.
+
+“Now, Hawe, we’ll proceed with our business,” said Stewart. “You see
+these boxes, don’t you?”
+
+“I reckon I see a good many things round hyar,” replied Hawe, meaningly.
+
+“Well, do you intend to open these boxes upon my say-so?”
+
+“No!” retorted Hawe. “It’s not my place to meddle with property as come
+by express an’ all accounted fer regular.”
+
+“You call yourself a sheriff!” exclaimed Stewart, scornfully.
+
+“Mebbe you’ll think so before long,” rejoined Hawe, sullenly.
+
+“I’ll open them. Here, one of you boys, knock the tops off these boxes,”
+ ordered Stewart. “No, not you, Monty. You use your eyes. Let Booly
+handle the ax. Rustle, now!”
+
+Monty Price had jumped out of the crowd into the middle of the porch.
+The manner in which he gave way to Booly and faced the vaqueros was not
+significant of friendliness or trust.
+
+“Stewart, you’re dead wrong to bust open them boxes. Thet’s ag’in’ the
+law,” protested Hawe, trying to interfere.
+
+Stewart pushed him back. Then Don Carlos, who had been stunned by the
+appearance of the boxes, suddenly became active in speech and person.
+Stewart thrust him back also. The Mexican’s excitement increased. He
+wildly gesticulated; he exclaimed shrilly in Spanish. When, however, the
+lids were wrenched open and an inside packing torn away he grew rigid
+and silent. Madeline raised herself behind Stillwell to see that the
+boxes were full of rifles and ammunition.
+
+“There, Hawe! What did I tell you?” demanded Stewart. “I came over here
+to take charge of this ranch. I found these boxes hidden in an unused
+room. I suspected what they were. Contraband goods!”
+
+“Wal, supposin’ they are? I don’t see any call fer sech all-fired fuss
+as you’re makin’. Stewart, I calkilate you’re some stuck on your new job
+an’ want to make a big show before—”
+
+“Hawe, stop slinging that kind of talk,” interrupted Stewart. “You
+got too free with your mouth once before! Now here, I’m supposed to
+be consulting an officer of the law. Will you take charge of these
+contraband goods?”
+
+“Say, you’re holdin’ on high an’ mighty,” replied Hawe, in astonishment
+that was plainly pretended. “What ‘re you drivin’ at?”
+
+Stewart muttered an imprecation. He took several swift strides across
+the porch; he held out his hands to Stillwell as if to indicate the
+hopelessness of intelligent and reasonable arbitration; he looked at
+Madeline with a glance eloquent of his regret that he could not handle
+the situation to please her. Then as he wheeled he came face to face
+with Nels, who had slipped forward out of the crowd.
+
+Madeline gathered serious import from the steel-blue meaning flash
+of eyes whereby Nels communicated something to Stewart. Whatever that
+something was, it dispelled Stewart’s impatience. A slight movement of
+his hand brought Monty Price forward with a jump. In these sudden jumps
+of Monty’s there was a suggestion of restrained ferocity. Then Nels
+and Monty lined up behind Stewart. It was a deliberate action, even to
+Madeline, unmistakably formidable. Pat Hawe’s face took on an ugly look;
+his eyes had a reddish gleam. Don Carlos added a pale face and extreme
+nervousness to his former expressions of agitation. The cowboys edged
+away from the vaqueros and the bronzed, bearded horsemen who were
+evidently Hawe’s assistants.
+
+“I’m driving at this,” spoke up Stewart, presently; and now he was slow
+and caustic. “Here’s contraband of war! Hawe, do you get that? Arms and
+ammunition for the rebels across the border! I charge you as an officer
+to confiscate these goods and to arrest the smuggler—Don Carlos.”
+
+These words of Stewart’s precipitated a riot among Don Carlos and his
+followers, and they surged wildly around the sheriff. There was an
+upflinging of brown, clenching hands, a shrill, jabbering babel of
+Mexican voices. The crowd around Don Carlos grew louder and denser
+with the addition of armed vaqueros and barefooted stable-boys and
+dusty-booted herdsmen and blanketed Mexicans, the last of whom suddenly
+slipped from doors and windows and round comers. It was a motley
+assemblage. The laced, fringed, ornamented vaqueros presented a sharp
+contrast to the bare-legged, sandal-footed boys and the ragged herders.
+Shrill cries, evidently from Don Carlos, somewhat quieted the commotion.
+Then Don Carlos could be heard addressing Sheriff Hawe in an exhortation
+of mingled English and Spanish. He denied, he avowed, he proclaimed,
+and all in rapid, passionate utterance. He tossed his black hair in
+his vehemence; he waved his fists and stamped the floor; he rolled
+his glittering eyes; he twisted his thin lips into a hundred different
+shapes, and like a cornered wolf showed snarling white teeth.
+
+It seemed to Madeline that Don Carlos denied knowledge of the boxes of
+contraband goods, then knowledge of their real contents, then knowledge
+of their destination, and, finally, everything except that they were
+there in sight, damning witnesses to somebody’s complicity in the
+breaking of neutrality laws. Passionate as had been his denial of all
+this, it was as nothing compared to his denunciation of Stewart.
+
+“Senor Stewart, he keel my Vaquero!” shouted Don Carlos, as, sweating
+and spent, he concluded his arraignment of the cowboy. “Him you must
+arrest! Senor Stewart a bad man! He keel my vaquero!”
+
+“Do you hear thet?” yelled Hawe. “The Don’s got you figgered fer thet
+little job at El Cajon last fall.”
+
+The clamor burst into a roar. Hawe began shaking his finger in Stewart’s
+face and hoarsely shouting. Then a lithe young vaquero, swift as
+an Indian, glided under Hawe’s uplifted arm. Whatever the action he
+intended, he was too late for its execution. Stewart lunged out,
+struck the vaquero, and knocked him off the porch. As he fell a dagger
+glittered in the sunlight and rolled clinking over the stones. The man
+went down hard and did not move. With the same abrupt violence, and a
+manner of contempt, Stewart threw Hawe off the porch, then Don Carlos,
+who, being less supple, fell heavily. Then the mob backed before
+Stewart’s rush until all were down in the courtyard.
+
+The shuffling of feet ceased, the clanking of spurs, and the shouting.
+Nels and Monty, now reinforced by Nick Steele, were as shadows of
+Stewart, so closely did they follow him. Stewart waved them back and
+stepped down into the yard. He was absolutely fearless; but what struck
+Madeline so keenly was his magnificent disdain. Manifestly, he knew the
+nature of the men with whom he was dealing. From the look of him it was
+natural for Madeline to expect them to give way before him, which they
+did, even Hawe and his attendants sullenly retreating.
+
+Don Carlos got up to confront Stewart. The prostrate vaquero stirred and
+moaned, but did not rise.
+
+“You needn’t jibber Spanish to me,” said Stewart. “You can talk
+American, and you can understand American. If you start a rough-house
+here you and your Greasers will be cleaned up. You’ve got to leave this
+ranch. You can have the stock, the packs and traps in the second corral.
+There’s grub, too. Saddle up and hit the trail. Don Carlos, I’m dealing
+more than square with you. You’re lying about these boxes of guns and
+cartridges. You’re breaking the laws of my country, and you’re doing
+it on property in my charge. If I let smuggling go on here I’d be
+implicated myself. Now you get off the range. If you don’t I’ll have the
+United States cavalry here in six hours, and you can gamble they’ll get
+what my cowboys leave of you.”
+
+Don Carlos was either a capital actor and gratefully relieved at
+Stewart’s leniency or else he was thoroughly cowed by references to the
+troops. “Si, Senor! Gracias, Senor!” he exclaimed; and then, turning
+away, he called to his men. They hurried after him, while the fallen
+vaquero got to his feet with Stewart’s help and staggered across the
+courtyard. In a moment they were gone, leaving Hawe and his several
+comrades behind.
+
+Hawe was spitefully ejecting a wad of tobacco from his mouth and
+swearing in an undertone about “white-livered Greasers.” He cocked his
+red eye speculatively at Stewart.
+
+“Wal, I reckon as you’re so hell-bent on doin’ it up brown thet you’ll
+try to fire me off’n the range, too?”
+
+“If I ever do, Pat, you’ll need to be carried off,” replied Stewart.
+“Just now I’m politely inviting you and your deputy sheriffs to leave.”
+
+“We’ll go; but we’re comin’ back one of these days, an’ when we do we’ll
+put you in irons.”
+
+“Hawe, if you’ve got it in that bad for me, come over here in the corral
+and let’s fight it out.”
+
+“I’m an officer, an’ I don’t fight outlaws an’ sich except when I hev to
+make arrests.”
+
+“Officer! You’re a disgrace to the county. If you ever did get irons on
+me you’d take me some place out of sight, shoot me, and then swear you
+killed me in self-defense. It wouldn’t be the first time you pulled that
+trick, Pat Hawe.”
+
+“Ho, ho!” laughed Hawe, derisively. Then he started toward the horses.
+
+Stewart’s long arm shot out, his hand clapped on Hawe’s shoulder,
+spinning him round like a top.
+
+“You’re leaving, Pat, but before you leave you’ll come out with your
+play or you’ll crawl,” said Stewart. “You’ve got it in for me, man to
+man. Speak up now and prove you’re not the cowardly skunk I’ve always
+thought you. I’ve called your hand.”
+
+Pat Hawe’s face turned a blackish-purple hue.
+
+“You can jest bet thet I’ve got it in fer you,” he shouted, hoarsely.
+“You’re only a low-down cow-puncher. You never hed a dollar or a decent
+job till you was mixed up with thet Hammond woman—”
+
+Stewart’s hand flashed out and hit Hawe’s face in a ringing slap. The
+sheriff’s head jerked back, his sombrero fell to the ground. As he bent
+over to reach it his hand shook, his arm shook, his whole body shook.
+
+Monty Price jumped straight forward and crouched down with a strange,
+low cry.
+
+Stewart seemed all at once rigid, bending a little.
+
+“Say Miss Hammond, if there’s occasion to use her name,” said Stewart,
+in a voice that seemed coolly pleasant, yet had a deadly undernote.
+
+Hawe did a moment’s battle with strangling fury, which he conquered in
+some measure.
+
+“I said you was a low-down, drunken cow-puncher, a tough as damn near a
+desperado as we ever hed on the border,” went on Hawe, deliberately. His
+speech appeared to be addressed to Stewart, although his flame-pointed
+eyes were riveted upon Monty Price. “I know you plugged that vaquero
+last fall, an’ when I git my proof I’m comin’ after you.”
+
+“That’s all right, Hawe. You can call me what you like, and you can come
+after me when you like,” replied Stewart. “But you’re going to get in
+bad with me. You’re in bad now with Monty and Nels. Pretty soon you’ll
+queer yourself with all the cowboys and the ranchers, too. If that don’t
+put sense into you—Here, listen to this. You knew what these boxes
+contained. You know Don Carlos has been smuggling arms and ammunition
+across the border. You know he is hand and glove with the rebels. You’ve
+been wearing blinders, and it has been to your interest. Take a hunch
+from me. That’s all. Light out now, and the less we see of your handsome
+mug the better we’ll like you.”
+
+Muttering, cursing, pallid of face, Hawe climbed astride his horse.
+His comrades followed suit. Certain it appeared that the sheriff
+was contending with more than fear and wrath. He must have had an
+irresistible impulse to fling more invective and threat upon Stewart,
+but he was speechless. Savagely he spurred his horse, and as it snorted
+and leaped he turned in his saddle, shaking his fist. His comrades led
+the way, with their horses clattering into a canter. They disappeared
+through the gate.
+
+    *       *       *
+
+When, later in the day, Madeline and Florence, accompanied by Alfred and
+Stillwell, left Don Carlos’s ranch it was not any too soon for
+Madeline. The inside of the Mexican’s home was more unprepossessing and
+uncomfortable than the outside. The halls were dark, the rooms huge,
+empty, and musty; and there was an air of silence and secrecy and
+mystery about them most fitting to the character Florence had bestowed
+upon the place.
+
+On the other hand, Alfred’s ranch-house, where the party halted to spend
+the night, was picturesquely located, small and cozy, camplike in its
+arrangement, and altogether agreeable to Madeline.
+
+The day’s long rides and the exciting events had wearied her. She rested
+while Florence and the two men got supper. During the meal Stillwell
+expressed satisfaction over the good riddance of the vaqueros, and with
+his usual optimism trusted he had seen the last of them. Alfred, too,
+took a decidedly favorable view of the day’s proceedings. However, it
+was not lost upon Madeline that Florence appeared unusually quiet and
+thoughtful. Madeline wondered a little at the cause. She remembered
+that Stewart had wanted to come with them, or detail a few cowboys to
+accompany them, but Alfred had laughed at the idea and would have none
+of it.
+
+After supper Alfred monopolized the conversation by describing what he
+wanted to do to improve his home before he and Florence were married.
+
+Then at an early hour they all retired.
+
+Madeline’s deep slumbers were disturbed by a pounding upon the wall, and
+then by Florence’s crying out in answer to a call:
+
+“Get up! Throw some clothes on and come out!”
+
+It was Alfred’s voice.
+
+“What’s the matter?” asked Florence, as she slipped out of bed.
+
+“Alfred, is there anything wrong?” added Madeline, sitting up.
+
+The room was dark as pitch, but a faint glow seemed to mark the position
+of the window.
+
+“Oh, nothing much,” replied Alfred. “Only Don Carlos’s rancho going up
+in smoke.”
+
+“Fire!” cried Florence, sharply.
+
+“You’ll think so when you see it. Hurry out. Majesty, old girl, now you
+won’t have to tear down that heap of adobe, as you threatened. I don’t
+believe a wall will stand after that fire.”
+
+“Well, I’m glad of it,” said Madeline. “A good healthy fire will purify
+the atmosphere over there and save me expense. Ugh! that haunted rancho
+got on my nerves! Florence, I do believe you’ve appropriated part of my
+riding-habit. Doesn’t Alfred have lights in this house?”
+
+Florence laughingly helped Madeline to dress. Then they hurriedly
+stumbled over chairs, and, passing through the dining-room, went out
+upon the porch.
+
+Away to the westward, low down along the horizon, she saw leaping red
+flames and wind-swept columns of smoke.
+
+Stillwell appeared greatly perturbed.
+
+“Al, I’m lookin’ fer that ammunition to blow up,” he said. “There was
+enough of it to blow the roof off the rancho.”
+
+“Bill, surely the cowboys would get that stuff out the first thing,”
+ replied Alfred, anxiously.
+
+“I reckon so. But all the same, I’m worryin’. Mebbe there wasn’t time.
+Supposin’ thet powder went off as the boys was goin’ fer it or carryin’
+it out! We’ll know soon. If the explosion doesn’t come quick now we can
+figger the boys got the boxes out.”
+
+For the next few moments there was a silence of sustained and painful
+suspense. Florence gripped Madeline’s arm. Madeline felt a fullness in
+her throat and a rapid beating of her heart. Presently she was relieved
+with the others when Stillwell declared the danger of an explosion
+needed to be feared no longer.
+
+“Sure you can gamble on Gene Stewart,” he added.
+
+The night happened to be partly cloudy, with broken rifts showing the
+moon, and the wind blew unusually strong. The brightness of the fire
+seemed subdued. It was like a huge bonfire smothered by some great
+covering, penetrated by different, widely separated points of flame.
+These corners of flame flew up, curling in the wind, and then died down.
+Thus the scene was constantly changing from dull light to dark.
+There came a moment when a blacker shade overspread the wide area of
+flickering gleams and then obliterated them. Night enfolded the scene.
+The moon peeped a curved yellow rim from under broken clouds. To all
+appearances the fire had burned itself out. But suddenly a pinpoint of
+light showed where all had been dense black. It grew and became long and
+sharp. It moved. It had life. It leaped up. Its color warmed from white
+to red. Then from all about it burst flame on flame, to leap into a
+great changing pillar of fire that climbed high and higher. Huge funnels
+of smoke, yellow, black, white, all tinged with the color of fire,
+slanted skyward, drifting away on the wind.
+
+“Wal, I reckon we won’t hev the good of them two thousand tons of
+alfalfa we was figgerin’ on,” remarked Stillwell.
+
+“Ah! Then that last outbreak of fire was burning hay,” said Madeline.
+“I do not regret the rancho. But it’s too bad to lose such a quantity of
+good feed for the stock.”
+
+“It’s lost, an’ no mistake. The fire’s dyin’ as quick as she flared
+up. Wal, I hope none of the boys got risky to save a saddle or blanket.
+Monty—he’s hell on runnin’ the gantlet of fire. He’s like a hoss that’s
+jest been dragged out of a burnin’ stable an’ runs back sure locoed.
+There! She’s smolderin’ down now. Reckon we-all might jest as well turn
+in again. It’s only three o’clock.”
+
+“I wonder how the fire originated?” remarked Alfred. “Some careless
+cowboy’s cigarette, I’ll bet.”
+
+Stillwell rolled out his laugh.
+
+“Al, you sure are a free-hearted, trustin’ feller. I’m some doubtin’ the
+cigarette idee; but you can gamble if it was a cigarette it belonged to
+a cunnin’ vaquero, an’ wasn’t dropped accident-like.”
+
+“Now, Bill, you don’t mean Don Carlos burned the rancho?” ejaculated
+Alfred, in mingled amaze and anger.
+
+Again the old cattleman laughed.
+
+“Powerful strange to say, my friend, ole Bill means jest thet.”
+
+“Of course Don Carlos set that fire,” put in Florence, with spirit. “Al,
+if you live out heah a hundred years you’ll never learn that Greasers
+are treacherous. I know Gene Stewart suspected something underhand.
+That’s why he wanted us to hurry away. That’s why he put me on the black
+horse of Don Carlos’s. He wants that horse for himself, and feared the
+Don would steal or shoot him. And you, Bill Stillwell, you’re as bad as
+Al. You never distrust anybody till it’s too late. You’ve been singing
+ever since Stewart ordered the vaqueros off the range. But you sure
+haven’t been thinking.”
+
+“Wal, now, Flo, you needn’t pitch into me jest because I hev a natural
+Christian spirit,” replied Stillwell, much aggrieved. “I reckon I’ve
+hed enough trouble in my life so’s not to go lookin’ fer more. Wal, I’m
+sorry about the hay burnin’. But mebbe the boys saved the stock. An’
+as fer that ole adobe house of dark holes an’ under-ground passages, so
+long’s Miss Majesty doesn’t mind, I’m darn glad it burned. Come, let’s
+all turn in again. Somebody’ll ride over early an’ tell us what’s what.”
+
+Madeline awakened early, but not so early as the others, who were up and
+had breakfast ready when she went into the dining-room. Stillwell was
+not in an amiable frame of mind. The furrows of worry lined his broad
+brow and he continually glanced at his watch, and growled because
+the cowboys were so late in riding over with the news. He gulped his
+breakfast, and while Madeline and the others ate theirs he tramped
+up and down the porch. Madeline noted that Alfred grew nervous and
+restless. Presently he left the table to join Stillwell outside.
+
+“They’ll slope off to Don Carlos’s rancho and leave us to ride home
+alone,” observed Florence.
+
+“Do you mind?” questioned Madeline.
+
+“No, I don’t exactly mind; we’ve got the fastest horses in this country.
+I’d like to run that big black devil off his legs. No, I don’t mind; but
+I’ve no hankering for a situation Gene Stewart thinks—”
+
+Florence began disconnectedly, and she ended evasively. Madeline did
+not press the point, although she had some sense of misgiving. Stillwell
+tramped in, shaking the floor with his huge boots; Alfred followed him,
+carrying a field-glass.
+
+“Not a hoss in sight,” complained Stillwell. “Some-thin’ wrong over Don
+Carlos’s way. Miss Majesty, it’ll be jest as well fer you an’ Flo to hit
+the home trail. We can telephone over an’ see that the boys know you’re
+comin’.”
+
+Alfred, standing in the door, swept the gray valley with his
+field-glass.
+
+“Bill, I see running stock-horses or cattle; I can’t make out which. I
+guess we’d better rustle over there.”
+
+Both men hurried out, and while the horses were being brought up and
+saddled Madeline and Florence put away the breakfast-dishes, then
+speedily donned spurs, sombreros, and gauntlets.
+
+“Here are the horses ready,” called Alfred. “Flo, that black Mexican
+horse is a prince.”
+
+The girls went out in time to hear Stillwell’s good-by as he mounted and
+spurred away. Alfred went through the motions of assisting Madeline and
+Florence to mount, which assistance they always flouted, and then he,
+too, swung up astride.
+
+“I guess it’s all right,” he said, rather dubiously. “You really must
+not go over toward Don Carlos’s. It’s only a few miles home.”
+
+“Sure it’s all right. We can ride, can’t we?” retorted Florence. “Better
+have a care for yourself, going off over there to mix in goodness knows
+what.”
+
+Alfred said good-by, spurred his horse, and rode away.
+
+“If Bill didn’t forget to telephone!” exclaimed Florence. “I declare he
+and Al were sure rattled.”
+
+Florence dismounted and went into the house. She left the door open.
+Madeline had some difficulty in holding Majesty. It struck Madeline that
+Florence stayed rather long indoors. Presently she came out with sober
+face and rather tight lips.
+
+“I couldn’t get anybody on the ’phone. No answer. I tried a dozen
+times.”
+
+“Why, Florence!” Madeline was more concerned by the girl’s looks than by
+the information she imparted.
+
+“The wire’s been cut,” said Florence. Her gray glance swept swiftly
+after Alfred, who was now far out of earshot. “I don’t like this a
+little bit. Heah’s where I’ve got to ‘figger,’ as Bill says.”
+
+She pondered a moment, then hurried into the house, to return presently
+with the field-glass that Alfred had used. With this she took a survey
+of the valley, particularly in the direction of Madeline’s ranch-house.
+This was hidden by low, rolling ridges which were quite close by.
+
+“Anyway, nobody in that direction can see us leave heah,” she mused.
+“There’s mesquite on the ridges. We’ve got cover long enough to save us
+till we can see what’s ahead.”
+
+“Florence, what—what do you expect?” asked Madeline, nervously.
+
+“I don’t know. There’s never any telling about Greasers. I wish Bill and
+Al hadn’t left us. Still, come to think of that, they couldn’t help us
+much in case of a chase. We’d run right away from them. Besides, they’d
+shoot. I guess I’m as well as satisfied that we’ve got the job of
+getting home on our own hands. We don’t dare follow Al toward Don
+Carlos’s ranch. We know there’s trouble over there. So all that’s left
+is to hit the trail for home. Come, let’s ride. You stick like a Spanish
+needle to me.”
+
+A heavy growth of mesquite covered the top of the first ridge, and the
+trail went through it. Florence took the lead, proceeding cautiously,
+and as soon as she could see over the summit she used the field-glass.
+Then she went on. Madeline, following closely, saw down the slope of the
+ridge to a bare, wide, grassy hollow, and onward to more rolling land,
+thick with cactus and mesquite. Florence appeared cautious, deliberate,
+yet she lost no time. She was ominously silent. Madeline’s misgivings
+took definite shape in the fear of vaqueros in ambush.
+
+Upon the ascent of the third ridge, which Madeline remembered was the
+last uneven ground between the point she had reached and home, Florence
+exercised even more guarded care in advancing. Before she reached the
+top of this ridge she dismounted, looped her bridle round a dead snag,
+and, motioning Madeline to wait, she slipped ahead through the mesquite
+out of sight. Madeline waited, anxiously listening and watching. Certain
+it was that she could not see or hear anything alarming. The sun began
+to have a touch of heat; the morning breeze rustled the thin mesquite
+foliage; the deep magenta of a cactus flower caught her eye; a
+long-tailed, cruel-beaked, brown bird sailed so close to her she could
+have touched it with her whip. But she was only vaguely aware of these
+things. She was watching for Florence, listening for some sound fraught
+with untoward meaning. All of a sudden she saw Majesty’s ears were held
+straight up. Then Florence’s face, now strangely white, showed round the
+turn of the trail.
+
+“’S-s-s-sh!” whispered Florence, holding up a warning finger. She
+reached the black horse and petted him, evidently to still an uneasiness
+he manifested. “We’re in for it,” she went on. “A whole bunch of
+vaqueros hiding among the mesquite over the ridge! They’ve not seen or
+heard us yet. We’d better risk riding ahead, cut off the trail, and beat
+them to the ranch. Madeline, you’re white as death! Don’t faint now!”
+
+“I shall not faint. But you frighten me. Is there danger? What shall we
+do?”
+
+“There’s danger. Madeline, I wouldn’t deceive you,” went on Florence, in
+an earnest whisper. “Things have turned out just as Gene Stewart hinted.
+Oh, we should—Al should have listened to Gene! I believe—I’m afraid
+Gene knew!”
+
+“Knew what?” asked Madeline.
+
+“Never mind now. Listen. We daren’t take the back trail. We’ll go
+on. I’ve a scheme to fool that grinning Don Carlos. Get down,
+Madeline—hurry.”
+
+Madeline dismounted.
+
+“Give me your white sweater. Take it off—And that white hat! Hurry,
+Madeline.”
+
+“Florence, what on earth do you mean?” cried Madeline.
+
+“Not so loud,” whispered the other. Her gray eyes snapped. She had
+divested herself of sombrero and jacket, which she held out to Madeline.
+“Heah. Take these. Give me yours. Then get up on the black. I’ll ride
+Majesty. Rustle now, Madeline. This is no time to talk.”
+
+“But, dear, why—why do you want—? Ah! You’re going to make the
+vaqueros take you for me!”
+
+“You guessed it. Will you—”
+
+“I shall not allow you to do anything of the kind,” returned Madeline.
+
+It was then that Florence’s face, changing, took on the hard, stern
+sharpness so typical of a cowboy’s. Madeline had caught glimpses of that
+expression in Alfred’s face, and on Stewart’s when he was silent, and
+on Stillwell’s always. It was a look of iron and fire—unchangeable,
+unquenchable will. There was even much of violence in the swift action
+whereby Florence compelled Madeline to the change of apparel.
+
+“It ’d been my idea, anyhow, if Stewart hadn’t told me to do it,”
+ said Florence, her words as swift as her hands. “Don Carlos is after
+you—you, Miss Madeline Hammond! He wouldn’t ambush a trail for any one
+else. He’s not killing cowboys these days. He wants you for some reason.
+So Gene thought, and now I believe him. Well, we’ll know for sure in
+five minutes. You ride the black; I’ll ride Majesty. We’ll slip round
+through the brush, out of sight and sound, till we can break out into
+the open. Then we’ll split. You make straight for the ranch. I’ll cut
+loose for the valley where Gene said positively the cowboys were with
+the cattle. The vaqueros will take me for you. They all know those
+striking white things you wear. They’ll chase me. They’ll never get
+anywhere near me. And you’ll be on a fast horse. He can take you home
+ahead of any vaqueros. But you won’t be chased. I’m staking all on that.
+Trust me, Madeline. If it were only my calculation, maybe I’d—It’s
+because I remember Stewart. That cowboy knows things. Come, this heah’s
+the safest and smartest way to fool Don Carlos.” Madeline felt herself
+more forced than persuaded into acquiescence. She mounted the black and
+took up the bridle. In another moment she was guiding her horse off
+the trail in the tracks of Majesty. Florence led off at right angles,
+threading a slow passage through the mesquite. She favored sandy patches
+and open aisles between the trees, and was careful not to break a
+branch. Often she stopped to listen. This detour of perhaps half a mile
+brought Madeline to where she could see open ground, the ranch-house
+only a few miles off, and the cattle dotting the valley. She had not
+lost her courage, but it was certain that these familiar sights somewhat
+lightened the pressure upon her breast. Excitement gripped her. The
+shrill whistle of a horse made both the black and Majesty jump. Florence
+quickened the gait down the slope. Soon Madeline saw the edge of the
+brush, the gray-bleached grass and level ground.
+
+Florence waited at the opening between the low trees. She gave Madeline
+a quick, bright glance.
+
+“All over but the ride! That’ll sure be easy. Bolt now and keep your
+nerve!”
+
+When Florence wheeled the fiery roan and screamed in his ear Madeline
+seemed suddenly to grow lax and helpless. The big horse leaped into
+thundering action. This was memorable of Bonita of the flying hair and
+the wild night ride. Florence’s hair streamed on the wind and shone gold
+in the sunlight. Yet Madeline saw her with the same thrill with which
+she had seen the wild-riding Bonita. Then hoarse shouts unclamped
+Madeline’s power of movement, and she spurred the black into the open.
+
+He wanted to run and he was swift. Madeline loosened the reins—laid
+them loose upon his neck. His action was strange to her. He was hard
+to ride. But he was fast, and she cared for nothing else. Madeline knew
+horses well enough to realize that the black had found he was free and
+carrying a light weight. A few times she took up the bridle and pulled
+to right or left, trying to guide him. He kept a straight course,
+however, and crashed through small patches of mesquite and jumped the
+cracks and washes. Uneven ground offered no perceptible obstacle to his
+running. To Madeline there was now a thrilling difference in the lash of
+wind and the flash of the gray ground underneath. She was running away
+from something; what that was she did not know. But she remembered
+Florence, and she wanted to look back, yet hated to do so for fear of
+the nameless danger Florence had mentioned.
+
+Madeline listened for the pounding of pursuing hoofs in her rear.
+Involuntarily she glanced back. On the mile or more of gray level
+between her and the ridge there was not a horse, a man, or anything
+living. She wheeled to look back on the other side, down the valley
+slope.
+
+The sight of Florence riding Majesty in zigzag flight before a whole
+troop of vaqueros blanched Madeline’s cheek and made her grip the pommel
+of her saddle in terror. That strange gait of her roan was not his
+wonderful stride. Could Majesty be running wild? Madeline saw one
+vaquero draw closer, whirling his lasso round his head, but he did not
+get near enough to throw. So it seemed to Madeline. Another vaquero
+swept across in front of the first one. Then, when Madeline gasped in
+breathless expectancy, the roan swerved to elude the attack. It flashed
+over Madeline that Florence was putting the horse to some such awkward
+flight as might have been expected of an Eastern girl frightened out of
+her wits. Madeline made sure of this when, after looking again, she saw
+that Florence, in spite of the horse’s breaking gait and the irregular
+course, was drawing slowly and surely down the valley.
+
+Madeline had not lost her head to the extent of forgetting her own mount
+and the nature of the ground in front. When, presently, she turned again
+to watch Florence, uncertainty ceased in her mind. The strange features
+of that race between girl and vaqueros were no longer in evidence.
+Majesty was in his beautiful, wonderful stride, low down along the
+ground, stretching, with his nose level and straight for the valley.
+Between him and the lean horses in pursuit lay an ever-increasing space.
+He was running away from the vaqueros. Florence was indeed “riding the
+wind,” as Stewart had aptly expressed his idea of flight upon the fleet
+roan.
+
+A dimness came over Madeline’s eyes, and it was not all owing to the
+sting of the wind. She rubbed it away, seeing Florence as a flying
+dot in a strange blur. What a daring, intrepid girl! This kind of
+strength—and aye, splendid thought for a weaker sister—was what the
+West inculcated in a woman.
+
+The next time Madeline looked back Florence was far ahead of her
+pursuers and going out of sight behind a low knoll. Assured of
+Florence’s safety, Madeline put her mind to her own ride and the
+possibilities awaiting at the ranch. She remembered the failure to
+get any of her servants or cowboys on the telephone. To be sure, a
+wind-storm had once broken the wire. But she had little real hope of
+such being the case in this instance. She rode on, pulling the black as
+she neared the ranch. Her approach was from the south and off the usual
+trail, so that she went up the long slope of the knoll toward the back
+of the house. Under these circumstances she could not consider it out of
+the ordinary that she did not see any one about the grounds.
+
+It was perhaps fortunate for her, she thought, that the climb up the
+slope cut the black’s speed so she could manage him. He was not very
+hard to stop. The moment she dismounted, however, he jumped and trotted
+off. At the edge of the slope, facing the corrals, he halted to lift
+his head and shoot up his ears. Then he let out a piercing whistle and
+dashed down the lane.
+
+Madeline, prepared by that warning whistle, tried to fortify herself for
+a new and unexpected situation; but as she espied an unfamiliar company
+of horsemen rapidly riding down a hollow leading from the foothills she
+felt the return of fears gripping at her like cold hands, and she fled
+precipitously into the house.
+
+
+
+
+XI. A Band of Guerrillas
+
+
+Madeline bolted the door, and, flying into the kitchen, she told the
+scared servants to shut themselves in. Then she ran to her own rooms.
+It was only a matter of a few moments for her to close and bar the heavy
+shutters, yet even as she was fastening the last one in the room she
+used as an office a clattering roar of hoofs seemed to swell up to the
+front of the house. She caught a glimpse of wild, shaggy horses and
+ragged, dusty men. She had never seen any vaqueros that resembled these
+horsemen. Vaqueros had grace and style; they were fond of lace and
+glitter and fringe; they dressed their horses in silvered trappings. But
+the riders now trampling into the driveway were uncouth, lean, savage.
+They were guerrillas, a band of the raiders who had been harassing the
+border since the beginning of the revolution. A second glimpse assured
+Madeline that they were not all Mexicans.
+
+The presence of outlaws in that band brought home to Madeline her real
+danger. She remembered what Stillwell had told her about recent outlaw
+raids along the Rio Grande. These flying bands, operating under the
+excitement of the revolution, appeared here and there, everywhere, in
+remote places, and were gone as quickly as they came. Mostly they wanted
+money and arms, but they would steal anything, and unprotected women had
+suffered at their hands.
+
+Madeline, hurriedly collecting her securities and the considerable money
+she had in her desk, ran out, closed and locked the door, crossed the
+patio to the opposite side of the house, and, entering again, went down
+a long corridor, trying to decide which of the many unused rooms would
+be best to hide in. And before she made up her mind she came to the last
+room. Just then a battering on door or window in the direction of the
+kitchen and shrill screams from the servant women increased Madeline’s
+alarm.
+
+She entered the last room. There was no lock or bar upon the door. But
+the room was large and dark, and it was half full of bales of alfalfa
+hay. Probably it was the safest place in the house; at least time would
+be necessary to find any one hidden there. She dropped her valuables in
+a dark corner and covered them with loose hay. That done, she felt
+her way down a narrow aisle between the piled-up bales and presently
+crouched in a niche.
+
+With the necessity of action over for the immediate present, Madeline
+became conscious that she was quivering and almost breathless. Her skin
+felt tight and cold. There was a weight on her chest; her mouth was dry,
+and she had a strange tendency to swallow. Her listening faculty seemed
+most acute. Dull sounds came from parts of the house remote from her.
+In the intervals of silence between these sounds she heard the squeaking
+and rustling of mice in the hay. A mouse ran over her hand.
+
+She listened, waiting, hoping yet dreading to hear the clattering
+approach of her cowboys. There would be fighting—blood—men injured,
+perhaps killed. Even the thought of violence of any kind hurt her. But
+perhaps the guerrillas would run in time to avoid a clash with her men.
+She hoped for that, prayed for it. Through her mind flitted what she
+knew of Nels, of Monty, of Nick Steele; and she experienced a sensation
+that left her somewhat chilled and sick. Then she thought of the
+dark-browed, fire-eyed Stewart. She felt a thrill drive away the cold
+nausea. And her excitement augmented.
+
+Waiting, listening increased all her emotions. Nothing appeared to
+be happening. Yet hours seemed to pass while she crouched there. Had
+Florence been overtaken? Could any of those lean horses outrun Majesty?
+She doubted it; she knew it could not be true. Nevertheless, the strain
+of uncertainty was torturing.
+
+Suddenly the bang of the corridor door pierced her through and through
+with the dread of uncertainty. Some of the guerrillas had entered the
+east wing of the house. She heard a babel of jabbering voices, the
+shuffling of boots and clinking of spurs, the slamming of doors and
+ransacking of rooms.
+
+Madeline lost faith in her hiding-place. Moreover, she found it
+impossible to take the chance. The idea of being caught in that dark
+room by those ruffians filled her with horror. She must get out into the
+light. Swiftly she rose and went to the window. It was rather more of a
+door than window, being a large aperture closed by two wooden doors on
+hinges. The iron hook yielded readily to her grasp, and one door stuck
+fast, while the other opened a few inches. She looked out upon a green
+slope covered with flowers and bunches of sage and bushes. Neither man
+nor horse showed in the narrow field of her vision. She believed she
+would be safer hidden out there in the shrubbery than in the house. The
+jump from the window would be easy for her. And with her quick decision
+came a rush and stir of spirit that warded off her weakness.
+
+She pulled at the door. It did not budge. It had caught at the bottom.
+Pulling with all her might proved to be in vain. Pausing, with palms hot
+and bruised, she heard a louder, closer approach of the invaders of her
+home. Fear, wrath, and impotence contested for supremacy over her and
+drove her to desperation. She was alone here, and she must rely on
+herself. And as she strained every muscle to move that obstinate door
+and heard the quick, harsh voices of men and the sounds of a hurried
+search she suddenly felt sure that they were hunting for her. She
+knew it. She did not wonder at it. But she wondered if she were really
+Madeline Hammond, and if it were possible that brutal men would harm
+her. Then the tramping of heavy feet on the floor of the adjoining room
+lent her the last strength of fear. Pushing with hands and shoulders,
+she moved the door far enough to permit the passage of her body. Then
+she stepped up on the sill and slipped through the aperture. She saw no
+one. Lightly she jumped down and ran in among the bushes. But these
+did not afford her the cover she needed. She stole from one clump to
+another, finding too late that she had chosen with poor judgment. The
+position of the bushes had drawn her closer to the front of the house
+rather than away from it, and just before her were horses, and beyond
+a group of excited men. With her heart in her throat Madeline crouched
+down.
+
+A shrill yell, followed by running and mounting guerrillas, roused her
+hope. They had sighted the cowboys and were in flight. Rapid thumping of
+boots on the porch told of men hurrying from the house. Several horses
+dashed past her, not ten feet distant. One rider saw her, for he turned
+to shout back. This drove Madeline into a panic. Hardly knowing what she
+did, she began to run away from the house. Her feet seemed leaden. She
+felt the same horrible powerlessness that sometimes came over her when
+she dreamed of being pursued. Horses with shouting riders streaked
+past her in the shrubbery. There was a thunder of hoofs behind her. She
+turned aside, but the thundering grew nearer. She was being run down.
+
+As Madeline shut her eyes and, staggering, was about to fall, apparently
+right under pounding hoofs, a rude, powerful hand clapped round her
+waist, clutched deep and strong, and swung her aloft. She felt a heavy
+blow when the shoulder of the horse struck her, and then a wrenching of
+her arm as she was dragged up. A sudden blighting pain made sight and
+feeling fade from her.
+
+But she did not become unconscious to the extent that she lost the sense
+of being rapidly borne away. She seemed to hold that for a long time.
+When her faculties began to return the motion of the horse was no
+longer violent. For a few moments she could not determine her position.
+Apparently she was upside down. Then she saw that she was facing the
+ground, and must be lying across a saddle with her head hanging down.
+She could not move a hand; she could not tell where her hands were. Then
+she felt the touch of soft leather. She saw a high-topped Mexican boot,
+wearing a huge silver spur, and the reeking flank and legs of a horse,
+and a dusty, narrow trail. Soon a kind of red darkness veiled her eyes,
+her head swam, and she felt motion and pain only dully.
+
+After what seemed a thousand weary hours some one lifted her from the
+horse and laid her upon the ground, where, gradually, as the blood
+left her head and she could see, she began to get the right relation of
+things.
+
+She lay in a sparse grove of firs, and the shadows told of late
+afternoon. She smelled wood smoke, and she heard the sharp crunch of
+horses’ teeth nipping grass. Voices caused her to turn her face. A group
+of men stood and sat round a camp-fire eating like wolves. The looks of
+her captors made Madeline close her eyes, and the fascination, the
+fear they roused in her made her open them again. Mostly they were
+thin-bodied, thin-bearded Mexicans, black and haggard and starved.
+Whatever they might be, they surely were hunger-stricken and squalid.
+Not one had a coat. A few had scarfs. Some wore belts in which were
+scattered cartridges. Only a few had guns, and these were of diverse
+patterns. Madeline could see no packs, no blankets, and only a few
+cooking-utensils, all battered and blackened. Her eyes fastened upon
+men she believed were white men; but it was from their features and not
+their color that she judged. Once she had seen a band of nomad robbers
+in the Sahara, and somehow was reminded of them by this motley outlaw
+troop.
+
+They divided attention between the satisfying of ravenous appetites
+and a vigilant watching down the forest aisles. They expected some one,
+Madeline thought, and, manifestly, if it were a pursuing posse, they
+did not show anxiety. She could not understand more than a word here
+and there that they uttered. Presently, however, the name of Don Carlos
+revived keen curiosity in her and realization of her situation, and then
+once more dread possessed her breast.
+
+A low exclamation and a sweep of arm from one of the guerrillas caused
+the whole band to wheel and concentrate their attention in the opposite
+direction. They heard something. They saw some one. Grimy hands sought
+weapons, and then every man stiffened. Madeline saw what hunted men
+looked like at the moment of discovery, and the sight was terrible. She
+closed her eyes, sick with what she saw, fearful of the moment when the
+guns would leap out.
+
+There were muttered curses, a short period of silence followed by
+whisperings, and then a clear voice rang out, “El Capitan!”
+
+A strong shock vibrated through Madeline, and her eyelids swept
+open. Instantly she associated the name El Capitan with Stewart and
+experienced a sensation of strange regret. It was not pursuit or rescue
+she thought of then, but death. These men would kill Stewart. But surely
+he had not come alone. The lean, dark faces, corded and rigid, told her
+in what direction to look. She heard the slow, heavy thump of hoofs.
+Soon into the wide aisle between the trees moved the form of a man,
+arms flung high over his head. Then Madeline saw the horse, and she
+recognized Majesty, and she knew it was really Stewart who rode the
+roan. When doubt was no longer possible she felt a suffocating sense of
+gladness and fear and wonder.
+
+Many of the guerrillas leaped up with drawn weapons. Still Stewart
+approached with his hands high, and he rode right into the camp-fire
+circle. Then a guerrilla, evidently the chief, waved down the
+threatening men and strode up to Stewart. He greeted him. There was
+amaze and pleasure and respect in the greeting. Madeline could tell
+that, though she did not know what was said. At the moment Stewart
+appeared to her as cool and careless as if he were dismounting at her
+porch steps. But when he got down she saw that his face was white. He
+shook hands with the guerrilla, and then his glittering eyes roved over
+the men and around the glade until they rested upon Madeline. Without
+moving from his tracks he seemed to leap, as if a powerful current had
+shocked him. Madeline tried to smile to assure him she was alive and
+well; but the intent in his eyes, the power of his controlled spirit
+telling her of her peril and his, froze the smile on her lips.
+
+With that he faced the chief and spoke rapidly in the Mexican jargon
+Madeline had always found so difficult to translate. The chief answered,
+spreading wide his hands, one of which indicated Madeline as she lay
+there. Stewart drew the fellow a little aside and said something for
+his ear alone. The chief’s hands swept up in a gesture of surprise and
+acquiescence. Again Stewart spoke swiftly. His hearer then turned to
+address the band. Madeline caught the words “Don Carlos” and “pesos.”
+ There was a brief muttering protest which the chief thundered down.
+Madeline guessed her release had been given by this guerrilla and bought
+from the others of the band.
+
+Stewart strode to her side, leading the roan. Majesty reared and snorted
+when he saw his mistress prostrate. Stewart knelt, still holding the
+bridle.
+
+“Are you all right?” he asked.
+
+“I think so,” she replied, essaying a laugh that was rather a failure.
+“My feet are tied.”
+
+Dark blood blotted out all the white from his face, and lightning shot
+from his eyes. She felt his hands, like steel tongs, loosening the bonds
+round her ankles. Without a word he lifted her upright and then upon
+Majesty. Madeline reeled a little in the saddle, held hard to the pommel
+with one hand, and tried to lean on Stewart’s shoulder with the other.
+
+“Don’t give up,” he said.
+
+She saw him gaze furtively into the forest on all sides. And it
+surprised her to see the guerrillas riding away. Putting the two facts
+together, Madeline formed an idea that neither Stewart nor the others
+desired to meet with some one evidently due shortly in the glade.
+Stewart guided the roan off to the right and walked beside Madeline,
+steadying her in the saddle. At first Madeline was so weak and dizzy
+that she could scarcely retain her seat. The dizziness left her
+presently, and then she made an effort to ride without help. Her
+weakness, however, and a pain in her wrenched arm made the task
+laborsome.
+
+Stewart had struck off the trail, if there were one, and was keeping
+to denser parts of the forest. The sun sank low, and the shafts of gold
+fell with a long slant among the firs. Majesty’s hoofs made no sound
+on the soft ground, and Stewart strode on without speaking. Neither his
+hurry nor vigilance relaxed until at least two miles had been covered.
+Then he held to a straighter course and did not send so many glances
+into the darkening woods. The level of the forest began to be cut up
+by little hollows, all of which sloped and widened. Presently the soft
+ground gave place to bare, rocky soil. The horse snorted and tossed his
+head. A sound of splashing water broke the silence. The hollow opened
+into a wider one through which a little brook murmured its way over the
+stones. Majesty snorted again and stopped and bent his head.
+
+“He wants a drink,” said Madeline. “I’m thirsty, too, and very tired.”
+
+Stewart lifted her out of the saddle, and as their hands parted she felt
+something moist and warm. Blood was running down her arm and into the
+palm of her hand.
+
+“I’m—bleeding,” she said, a little unsteadily. “Oh, I remember. My arm
+was hurt.”
+
+She held it out, the blood making her conscious of her weakness.
+Stewart’s fingers felt so firm and sure. Swiftly he ripped the wet
+sleeve. Her forearm had been cut or scratched. He washed off the blood.
+
+“Why, Stewart, it’s nothing. I was only a little nervous. I guess that’s
+the first time I ever saw my own blood.”
+
+He made no reply as he tore her handkerchief into strips and bound her
+arm. His swift motions and his silence gave her a hint of how he might
+meet a more serious emergency. She felt safe. And because of that
+impression, when he lifted his head and she saw that he was pale and
+shaking, she was surprised. He stood before her folding his scarf,
+which was still wet, and from which he made no effort to remove the red
+stains.
+
+“Miss Hammond,” he said, hoarsely, “it was a man’s hands—a Greaser’s
+finger-nails—that cut your arm. I know who he was. I could have killed
+him. But I mightn’t have got your freedom. You understand? I didn’t
+dare.”
+
+Madeline gazed at Stewart, astounded more by his speech than his
+excessive emotion.
+
+“My dear boy!” she exclaimed. And then she paused. She could not find
+words.
+
+He was making an apology to her for not killing a man who had laid a
+rough hand upon her person. He was ashamed and seemed to be in a torture
+that she would not understand why he had not killed the man. There
+seemed to be something of passionate scorn in him that he had not been
+able to avenge her as well as free her.
+
+“Stewart, I understand. You were being my kind of cowboy. I thank you.”
+
+But she did not understand so much as she implied. She had heard many
+stories of this man’s cool indifference to peril and death. He had
+always seemed as hard as granite. Why should the sight of a little blood
+upon her arm pale his cheek and shake his hand and thicken his voice?
+What was there in his nature to make him implore her to see the only
+reason he could not kill an outlaw? The answer to the first question
+was that he loved her. It was beyond her to answer the second. But the
+secret of it lay in the same strength from which his love sprang—an
+intensity of feeling which seemed characteristic of these Western men of
+simple, lonely, elemental lives. All at once over Madeline rushed a tide
+of realization of how greatly it was possible for such a man as Stewart
+to love her. The thought came to her in all its singular power. All her
+Eastern lovers who had the graces that made them her equals in the sight
+of the world were without the only great essential that a lonely, hard
+life had given to Stewart. Nature here struck a just balance. Something
+deep and dim in the future, an unknown voice, called to Madeline and
+disturbed her. And because it was not a voice to her intelligence she
+deadened the ears of her warm and throbbing life and decided never to
+listen.
+
+“Is it safe to rest a little?” she asked. “I am so tired. Perhaps I’ll
+be stronger if I rest.”
+
+“We’re all right now,” he said. “The horse will be better, too. I ran
+him out. And uphill, at that.”
+
+“Where are we?”
+
+“Up in the mountains, ten miles and more from the ranch. There’s a trail
+just below here. I can get you home by midnight. They’ll be some worried
+down there.”
+
+“What happened?”
+
+“Nothing much to any one but you. That’s the—the hard luck of it.
+Florence caught us out on the slope. We were returning from the fire. We
+were dead beat. But we got to the ranch before any damage was done. We
+sure had trouble in finding a trace of you. Nick spotted the prints of
+your heels under the window. And then we knew. I had to fight the boys.
+If they’d come after you we’d never have gotten you without a fight. I
+didn’t want that. Old Bill came out packing a dozen guns. He was crazy.
+I had to rope Monty. Honest, I tied him to the porch. Nels and Nick
+promised to stay and hold him till morning. That was the best I could
+do. I was sure lucky to come up with the band so soon. I had figured
+right. I knew that guerrilla chief. He’s a bandit in Mexico. It’s a
+business with him. But he fought for Madero, and I was with him a good
+deal. He may be a Greaser, but he’s white.”
+
+“How did you effect my release?”
+
+“I offered them money. That’s what the rebels all want. They need money.
+They’re a lot of poor, hungry devils.”
+
+“I gathered that you offered to pay ransom. How much?”
+
+“Two thousand dollars Mex. I gave my word. I’ll have to take the money.
+I told them when and where I’d meet them.”
+
+“Certainly. I’m glad I’ve got the money.” Madeline laughed. “What a
+strange thing to happen to me! I wonder what dad would say to that?
+Stewart, I’m afraid he’d say two thousand dollars is more than I’m
+worth. But tell me. That rebel chieftain did not demand money?”
+
+“No. The money is for his men.”
+
+“What did you say to him? I saw you whisper in his ear.”
+
+Stewart dropped his head, averting her direct gaze.
+
+“We were comrades before Juarez. One day I dragged him out of a ditch. I
+reminded him. Then I—I told him something I—I thought—”
+
+“Stewart, I know from the way he looked at me that you spoke of me.”
+
+Her companion did not offer a reply to this, and Madeline did not press
+the point.
+
+“I heard Don Carlos’s name several times. That interests me. What have
+Don Carlos and his vaqueros to do with this?”
+
+“That Greaser has all to do with it,” replied Stewart, grimly. “He
+burned his ranch and corrals to keep us from getting them. But he also
+did it to draw all the boys away from your home. They had a deep plot,
+all right. I left orders for some one to stay with you. But Al and
+Stillwell, who’re both hot-headed, rode off this morning. Then the
+guerrillas came down.”
+
+“Well, what was the idea—the plot—as you call it?”
+
+“To get you,” he said, bluntly.
+
+“Me! Stewart, you do not mean my capture—whatever you call it—was
+anything more than mere accident?”
+
+“I do mean that. But Stillwell and your brother think the guerrillas
+wanted money and arms, and they just happened to make off with you
+because you ran under a horse’s nose.”
+
+“You do not incline to that point of view?”
+
+“I don’t. Neither does Nels nor Nick Steele. And we know Don Carlos and
+the Greasers. Look how the vaqueros chased Flo for you!”
+
+“What do you think, then?”
+
+“I’d rather not say.”
+
+“But, Stewart, I would like to know. If it is about me, surely I ought
+to know,” protested Madeline. “What reason have Nels and Nick to suspect
+Don Carlos of plotting to abduct me?”
+
+“I suppose they’ve no reason you’d take. Once I heard Nels say he’d seen
+the Greaser look at you, and if he ever saw him do it again he’d shoot
+him.”
+
+“Why, Stewart, that is ridiculous. To shoot a man for looking at a
+woman! This is a civilized country.”
+
+“Well, maybe it would be ridiculous in a civilized country. There’s some
+things about civilization I don’t care for.”
+
+“What, for instance?”
+
+“For one thing, I can’t stand for the way men let other men treat
+women.”
+
+“But, Stewart, this is strange talk from you, who, that night I came—”
+
+She broke off, sorry that she had spoken. His shame was not pleasant to
+see. Suddenly he lifted his head, and she felt scorched by flaming eyes.
+
+“Suppose I was drunk. Suppose I had met some ordinary girl. Suppose I
+had really made her marry me. Don’t you think I would have stopped being
+a drunkard and have been good to her?”
+
+“Stewart, I do not know what to think about you,” replied Madeline.
+
+Then followed a short silence. Madeline saw the last bright rays of the
+setting sun glide up over a distant crag. Stewart rebridled the horse
+and looked at the saddle-girths.
+
+“I got off the trail. About Don Carlos I’ll say right out, not what Nels
+and Nick think, but what I know. Don Carlos hoped to make off with you
+for himself, the same as if you had been a poor peon slave-girl down in
+Sonora. Maybe he had a deeper plot than my rebel friend told me. Maybe
+he even went so far as to hope for American troops to chase him.
+The rebels are trying to stir up the United States. They’d welcome
+intervention. But, however that may be, the Greaser meant evil to you,
+and has meant it ever since he saw you first. That’s all.”
+
+“Stewart, you have done me and my family a service we can never hope to
+repay.”
+
+“I’ve done the service. Only don’t mention pay to me. But there’s one
+thing I’d like you to know, and I find it hard to say. It’s prompted,
+maybe, by what I know you think of me and what I imagine your family and
+friends would think if they knew. It’s not prompted by pride or conceit.
+And it’s this: Such a woman as you should never have come to this
+God-forsaken country unless she meant to forget herself. But as you did
+come, and as you were dragged away by those devils, I want you to know
+that all your wealth and position and influence—all that power behind
+you—would never have saved you from hell to-night. Only such a man as
+Nels or Nick Steele or I could have done that.”
+
+Madeline Hammond felt the great leveling force of the truth. Whatever
+the difference between her and Stewart, or whatever the imagined
+difference set up by false standards of class and culture, the truth
+was that here on this wild mountain-side she was only a woman and he was
+simply a man. It was a man that she needed, and if her choice could have
+been considered in this extremity it would have fallen upon him who had
+just faced her in quiet, bitter speech. Here was food for thought.
+
+“I reckon we’d better start now,” he said, and drew the horse close to a
+large rock. “Come.”
+
+Madeline’s will greatly exceeded her strength. For the first time she
+acknowledged to herself that she had been hurt. Still, she did not feel
+much pain except when she moved her shoulder. Once in the saddle, where
+Stewart lifted her, she drooped weakly. The way was rough; every step
+the horse took hurt her; and the slope of the ground threw her forward
+on the pommel. Presently, as the slope grew rockier and her discomfort
+increased, she forgot everything except that she was suffering.
+
+“Here is the trail,” said Stewart, at length.
+
+Not far from that point Madeline swayed, and but for Stewart’s support
+would have fallen from the saddle. She heard him swear under his breath.
+
+“Here, this won’t do,” he said. “Throw your leg over the pommel. The
+other one—there.”
+
+Then, mounting, he slipped behind her and lifted and turned her, and
+then held her with his left arm so that she lay across the saddle and
+his knees, her head against his shoulder.
+
+As the horse started into a rapid walk Madeline gradually lost all pain
+and discomfort when she relaxed her muscles. Presently she let herself
+go and lay inert, greatly to her relief. For a little while she seemed
+to be half drunk with the gentle swaying of a hammock. Her mind became
+at once dreamy and active, as if it thoughtfully recorded the slow, soft
+impressions pouring in from all her senses.
+
+A red glow faded in the west. She could see out over the foothills,
+where twilight was settling gray on the crests, dark in the hollows.
+Cedar and pinyon trees lined the trail, and there were no more firs. At
+intervals huge drab-colored rocks loomed over her. The sky was clear
+and steely. A faint star twinkled. And lastly, close to her, she saw
+Stewart’s face, once more dark and impassive, with the inscrutable eyes
+fixed on the trail.
+
+His arm, like a band of iron, held her, yet it was flexible and yielded
+her to the motion of the horse. One instant she felt the brawn,
+the bone, heavy and powerful; the next the stretch and ripple, the
+elasticity of muscles. He held her as easily as if she were a child. The
+roughness of his flannel shirt rubbed her cheek, and beneath that she
+felt the dampness of the scarf he had used to bathe her arm, and deeper
+still the regular pound of his heart. Against her ear, filling it with
+strong, vibrant beat, his heart seemed a mighty engine deep within a
+great cavern. Her head had never before rested on a man’s breast, and
+she had no liking for it there; but she felt more than the physical
+contact. The position was mysterious and fascinating, and something
+natural in it made her think of life. Then as the cool wind blew down
+from the heights, loosening her tumbled hair, she was compelled to see
+strands of it curl softly into Stewart’s face, before his eyes, across
+his lips. She was unable to reach it with her free hand, and therefore
+could not refasten it. And when she shut her eyes she felt those
+loosened strands playing against his cheeks.
+
+In the keener press of such sensations she caught the smell of dust and
+a faint, wild, sweet tang on the air. There was a low, rustling sigh of
+wind in the brush along the trail. Suddenly the silence ripped apart to
+the sharp bark of a coyote, and then, from far away, came a long wail.
+And then Majesty’s metal-rimmed hoof rang on a stone.
+
+These later things lent probability to that ride for Madeline. Otherwise
+it would have seemed like a dream. Even so it was hard to believe. Again
+she wondered if this woman who had begun to think and feel so much was
+Madeline Hammond. Nothing had ever happened to her. And here, playing
+about her like her hair played about Stewart’s face, was adventure,
+perhaps death, and surely life. She could not believe the evidence of
+the day’s happenings. Would any of her people, her friends, ever believe
+it? Could she tell it? How impossible to think that a cunning Mexican
+might have used her to further the interests of a forlorn revolution.
+She remembered the ghoulish visages of those starved rebels, and
+marveled at her blessed fortune in escaping them. She was safe, and now
+self-preservation had some meaning for her. Stewart’s arrival in the
+glade, the courage with which he had faced the outlawed men, grew
+as real to her now as the iron arm that clasped her. Had it been an
+instinct which had importuned her to save this man when he lay ill and
+hopeless in the shack at Chiricahua? In helping him had she hedged round
+her forces that had just operated to save her life, or if not that, more
+than life was to her? She believed so.
+
+Madeline opened her eyes after a while and found that night had fallen.
+The sky was a dark, velvety blue blazing with white stars. The cool
+wind tugged at her hair, and through waving strands she saw Stewart’s
+profile, bold and sharp against the sky.
+
+Then, as her mind succumbed to her bodily fatigue, again her situation
+became unreal and wild. A heavy languor, like a blanket, began to steal
+upon her. She wavered and drifted. With the last half-conscious sense
+of a muffled throb at her ear, a something intangibly sweet, deep-toned,
+and strange, like a distant calling bell, she fell asleep with her head
+on Stewart’s breast.
+
+
+
+
+XII. Friends from the East
+
+
+Three days after her return to the ranch Madeline could not discover any
+physical discomfort as a reminder of her adventurous experiences. This
+surprised her, but not nearly so much as the fact that after a few weeks
+she found she scarcely remembered the adventures at all. If it had not
+been for the quiet and persistent guardianship of her cowboys she might
+almost have forgotten Don Carlos and the raiders. Madeline was assured
+of the splendid physical fitness to which this ranch life had developed
+her, and that she was assimilating something of the Western disregard
+of danger. A hard ride, an accident, a day in the sun and dust, an
+adventure with outlaws—these might once have been matters of large
+import, but now for Madeline they were in order with all the rest of her
+changed life.
+
+There was never a day that something interesting was not brought to her
+notice. Stillwell, who had ceaselessly reproached himself for riding
+away the morning Madeline was captured, grew more like an anxious parent
+than a faithful superintendent. He was never at ease regarding her
+unless he was near the ranch or had left Stewart there, or else Nels and
+Nick Steele. Naturally, he trusted more to Stewart than to any one else.
+
+“Miss Majesty, it’s sure amazin’ strange about Gene,” said the old
+cattleman, as he tramped into Madeline’s office.
+
+“What’s the matter now?” she inquired.
+
+“Wal, Gene has rustled off into the mountains again.”
+
+“Again? I did not know he had gone. I gave him money for that band of
+guerrillas. Perhaps he went to take it to them.”
+
+“No. He took that a day or so after he fetched you back home. Then in
+about a week he went a second time. An’ he packed some stuff with him.
+Now he’s sneaked off, an’ Nels, who was down to the lower trail, saw
+him meet somebody that looked like Padre Marcos. Wal, I went down to
+the church, and, sure enough, Padre Marcos is gone. What do you think of
+that, Miss Majesty?”
+
+“Maybe Stewart is getting religious,” laughed Madeline. You told me so
+once.
+
+Stillwell puffed and wiped his red face.
+
+“If you’d heerd him cuss Monty this mawnin’ you’d never guess it was
+religion. Monty an’ Nels hev been givin’ Gene a lot of trouble lately.
+They’re both sore an’ in fightin’ mood ever since Don Carlos hed you
+kidnapped. Sure they’re goin’ to break soon, an’ then we’ll hev a couple
+of wild Texas steers ridin’ the range. I’ve a heap to worry me.”
+
+“Let Stewart take his mysterious trips into the mountains. Here,
+Stillwell, I have news for you that may give you reason for worry.
+I have letters from home. And my sister, with a party of friends, is
+coming out to visit me. They are society folk, and one of them is an
+English lord.”
+
+“Wal, Miss Majesty, I reckon we’ll all be glad to see them,” said
+Stillwell. “Onless they pack you off back East.”
+
+“That isn’t likely,” replied Madeline, thoughtfully. “I must go back
+some time, though. Well, let me read you a few extracts from my mail.”
+
+Madeline took up her sister’s letter with a strange sensation of how
+easily sight of a crested monogram and scent of delicately perfumed
+paper could recall the brilliant life she had given up. She scanned
+the pages of beautiful handwriting. Helen’s letter was in turn gay and
+brilliant and lazy, just as she was herself; but Madeline detected more
+of curiosity in it than of real longing to see the sister and brother in
+the Far West. Much of what Helen wrote was enthusiastic anticipation of
+the fun she expected to have with bashful cowboys. Helen seldom wrote
+letters, and she never read anything, not even popular novels of the
+day. She was as absolutely ignorant of the West as the Englishman, who,
+she said, expected to hunt buffalo and fight Indians. Moreover, there
+was a satiric note in the letter that Madeline did not like, and which
+roused her spirit. Manifestly, Helen was reveling in the prospect of new
+sensation.
+
+When she finished reading aloud a few paragraphs the old cattleman
+snorted and his face grew redder.
+
+“Did your sister write that?” he asked.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Wal, I—I beg pawdin, Miss Majesty. But it doesn’t seem like you. Does
+she think we’re a lot of wild men from Borneo?”
+
+“Evidently she does. I rather think she is in for a surprise. Now,
+Stillwell, you are clever and you can see the situation. I want my
+guests to enjoy their stay here, but I do not want that to be at the
+expense of the feelings of all of us, or even any one. Helen will bring
+a lively crowd. They’ll crave excitement—the unusual. Let us see that
+they are not disappointed. You take the boys into your confidence. Tell
+them what to expect, and tell them how to meet it. I shall help you in
+that. I want the boys to be on dress-parade when they are off duty. I
+want them to be on their most elegant behavior. I do not care what they
+do, what measures they take to protect themselves, what tricks they
+contrive, so long as they do not overstep the limit of kindness and
+courtesy. I want them to play their parts seriously, naturally, as if
+they had lived no other way. My guests expect to have fun. Let us meet
+them with fun. Now what do you say?”
+
+Stillwell rose, his great bulk towering, his huge face beaming.
+
+“Wal, I say it’s the most amazin’ fine idee I ever heerd in my life.”
+
+“Indeed, I am glad you like it,” went on Madeline.
+
+“Come to me again, Stillwell, after you have spoken to the boys. But,
+now that I have suggested it, I am a little afraid. You know what cowboy
+fun is. Perhaps—”
+
+“Don’t you go back on that idee,” interrupted Stillwell. He was assuring
+and bland, but his hurry to convince Madeline betrayed him. “Leave the
+boys to me. Why, don’t they all swear by you, same as the Mexicans do
+to the Virgin? They won’t disgrace you, Miss Majesty. They’ll be simply
+immense. It’ll beat any show you ever seen.”
+
+“I believe it will,” replied Madeline. She was still doubtful of
+her plan, but the enthusiasm of the old cattleman was infectious and
+irresistible. “Very well, we will consider it settled. My guests will
+arrive on May ninth. Meanwhile let us get Her Majesty’s Rancho in shape
+for this invasion.”
+
+    *       *       *
+
+On the afternoon of the ninth of May, perhaps half an hour after
+Madeline had received a telephone message from Link Stevens announcing
+the arrival of her guests at El Cajon, Florence called her out upon the
+porch. Stillwell was there with his face wrinkled by his wonderful smile
+and his eagle eyes riveted upon the distant valley. Far away, perhaps
+twenty miles, a thin streak of white dust rose from the valley floor and
+slanted skyward.
+
+“Look!” said Florence, excitedly.
+
+“What is that?” asked Madeline.
+
+“Link Stevens and the automobile!”
+
+“Oh no! Why, it’s only a few minutes since he telephoned saying the
+party had just arrived.”
+
+“Take a look with the glasses,” said Florence.
+
+One glance through the powerful binoculars convinced Madeline that
+Florence was right. And another glance at Stillwell told her that he was
+speechless with delight. She remembered a little conversation she had
+had with Link Stevens a short while previous.
+
+“Stevens, I hope the car is in good shape,” she had said. “Now, Miss
+Hammond, she’s as right as the best-trained hoss I ever rode,” he had
+replied.
+
+“The valley road is perfect,” she had gone on, musingly. “I never saw
+such a beautiful road, even in France. No fences, no ditches, no rocks,
+no vehicles. Just a lonely road on the desert.”
+
+“Shore, it’s lonely,” Stevens had answered, with slowly brightening
+eyes. “An’ safe, Miss Hammond.”
+
+“My sister used to like fast riding. If I remember correctly, all of
+my guests were a little afflicted with the speed mania. It is a common
+disease with New-Yorkers. I hope, Stevens, that you will not give them
+reason to think we are altogether steeped in the slow, dreamy manana
+languor of the Southwest.”
+
+Link doubtfully eyed her, and then his bronze face changed its dark
+aspect and seemed to shine.
+
+“Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Hammond, thet’s shore tall talk fer Link
+Stevens to savvy. You mean—as long as I drive careful an’ safe I can
+run away from my dust, so to say, an’ get here in somethin’ less than
+the Greaser’s to-morrow?”
+
+Madeline had laughed her assent. And now, as she watched the thin
+streak of dust, at that distance moving with snail pace, she reproached
+herself. She trusted Stevens; she had never known so skilful, daring,
+and iron-nerved a driver as he was. If she had been in the car herself
+she would have had no anxiety. But, imagining what Stevens would do on
+forty miles and more of that desert road, Madeline suffered a prick of
+conscience.
+
+“Oh, Stillwell!” she exclaimed. “I am afraid I will go back on my
+wonderful idea. What made me do it?”
+
+“Your sister wanted the real thing, didn’t she? Said they all wanted it.
+Wal, I reckon they’ve begun gettin’ it,” replied Stillwell.
+
+That statement from the cattleman allayed Madeline’s pangs of
+conscience. She understood just what she felt, though she could not have
+put it in words. She was hungry for a sight of well-remembered faces;
+she longed to hear the soft laughter and gay repartee of old
+friends; she was eager for gossipy first-hand news of her old world.
+Nevertheless, something in her sister’s letter, in messages from the
+others who were coming, had touched Madeline’s pride. In one sense the
+expected guests were hostile, inasmuch as they were scornful and curious
+about the West that had claimed her. She imagined what they would
+expect in a Western ranch. They would surely get the real thing, too, as
+Stillwell said; and in that certainty was satisfaction for a small grain
+of something within Madeline which approached resentment. She wistfully
+wondered, however, if her sister or friends would come to see the West
+even a little as she saw it. That, perhaps, would he hoping too much.
+She resolved once for all to do her best to give them the sensation
+their senses craved, and equally to show them the sweetness and beauty
+and wholesomeness and strength of life in the Southwest.
+
+“Wal, as Nels says, I wouldn’t be in that there ottomobile right now for
+a million pesos,” remarked Stillwell.
+
+“Why? Is Stevens driving fast?”
+
+“Good Lord! Fast? Miss Majesty, there hain’t ever been anythin’ except a
+streak of lightnin’ run so fast in this country. I’ll bet Link for once
+is in heaven. I can jest see him now, the grim, crooked-legged little
+devil, hunchin’ down over that wheel as if it was a hoss’s neck.”
+
+“I told him not to let the ride be hot or dusty,” remarked Madeline.
+
+“Haw, haw!” roared Stillwell. “Wal, I’ll be goin’. I reckon I’d like to
+be hyar when Link drives up, but I want to be with the boys down by the
+bunks. It’ll be some fun to see Nels an’ Monty when Link comes flyin’
+along.”
+
+“I wish Al had stayed to meet them,” said Madeline.
+
+Her brother had rather hurried a shipment of cattle to California: and
+it was Madeline’s supposition that he had welcomed the opportunity to
+absent himself from the ranch.
+
+“I am sorry he wouldn’t stay,” replied Florence. “But Al’s all business
+now. And he’s doing finely. It’s just as well, perhaps.”
+
+“Surely. That was my pride speaking. I would like to have all my family
+and all my old friends see what a man Al has become. Well, Link Stevens
+is running like the wind. The car will be here before we know it.
+Florence, we’ve only a few moments to dress. But first I want to order
+many and various and exceedingly cold refreshments for that approaching
+party.”
+
+Less than a half-hour later Madeline went again to the porch and found
+Florence there.
+
+“Oh, you look just lovely!” exclaimed Florence, impulsively, as she
+gazed wide-eyed up at Madeline. “And somehow so different!”
+
+Madeline smiled a little sadly. Perhaps when she had put on that
+exquisite white gown something had come to her of the manner which
+befitted the wearing of it. She could not resist the desire to look fair
+once more in the eyes of these hypercritical friends. The sad smile had
+been for the days that were gone. For she knew that what society had
+once been pleased to call her beauty had trebled since it had last been
+seen in a drawing-room. Madeline wore no jewels, but at her waist she
+had pinned two great crimson roses. Against the dead white they had the
+life and fire and redness of the desert.
+
+“Link’s hit the old round-up trail,” said Florence, “and oh, isn’t he
+riding that car!”
+
+With Florence, as with most of the cowboys, the car was never driven,
+but ridden.
+
+A white spot with a long trail of dust showed low down in the valley.
+It was now headed almost straight for the ranch. Madeline watched
+it growing larger moment by moment, and her pleasurable emotion grew
+accordingly. Then the rapid beat of a horse’s hoofs caused her to turn.
+
+Stewart was riding in on his black horse. He had been absent on an
+important mission, and his duty had taken him to the international
+boundary-line. His presence home long before he was expected was
+particularly gratifying to Madeline, for it meant that his mission had
+been brought to a successful issue. Once more, for the hundredth time,
+the man’s reliability struck Madeline. He was a doer of things. The
+black horse halted wearily without the usual pound of hoofs on the
+gravel, and the dusty rider dismounted wearily. Both horse and rider
+showed the heat and dust and wind of many miles.
+
+Madeline advanced to the porch steps. And Stewart, after taking a parcel
+of papers from a saddle-bag, turned toward her.
+
+“Stewart, you are the best of couriers,” she said. “I am pleased.”
+
+Dust streamed from his sombrero as he doffed it. His dark face seemed to
+rise as he straightened weary shoulders.
+
+“Here are the reports, Miss Hammond,” he replied.
+
+As he looked up to see her standing there, dressed to receive her
+Eastern guests, he checked his advance with a violent action which
+recalled to Madeline the one he had made on the night she had met him,
+when she disclosed her identity. It was not fear nor embarrassment nor
+awkwardness. And it was only momentary. Yet, slight as had been his
+pause, Madeline received from it an impression of some strong halting
+force. A man struck by a bullet might have had an instant jerk of
+muscular control such as convulsed Stewart. In that instant, as her keen
+gaze searched his dust-caked face, she met the full, free look of
+his eyes. Her own did not fall, though she felt a warmth steal to her
+cheeks. Madeline very seldom blushed. And now, conscious of her sudden
+color a genuine blush flamed on her face. It was irritating because it
+was incomprehensible. She received the papers from Stewart and thanked
+him. He bowed, then led the black down the path toward the corrals.
+
+“When Stewart looks like that he’s been riding,” said Florence. “But
+when his horse looks like that he’s sure been burning the wind.”
+
+Madeline watched the weary horse and rider limp down the path. What
+had made her thoughtful? Mostly it was something new or sudden or
+inexplicable that stirred her mind to quick analysis. In this instance
+the thing that had struck Madeline was Stewart’s glance. He had looked
+at her, and the old burning, inscrutable fire, the darkness, had left
+his eyes. Suddenly they had been beautiful. The look had not been one of
+surprise or admiration; nor had it been one of love. She was familiar,
+too familiar with all three. It had not been a gaze of passion, for
+there was nothing beautiful in that. Madeline pondered. And presently
+she realized that Stewart’s eyes had expressed a strange joy of pride.
+That expression Madeline had never before encountered in the look of any
+man. Probably its strangeness had made her notice it and accounted for
+her blushing. The longer she lived among these outdoor men the more
+they surprised her. Particularly, how incomprehensible was this cowboy
+Stewart! Why should he have pride or joy at sight of her?
+
+Florence’s exclamation made Madeline once more attend to the approaching
+automobile. It was on the slope now, some miles down the long gradual
+slant. Two yellow funnel-shaped clouds of dust seemed to shoot out from
+behind the car and roll aloft to join the column that stretched down the
+valley.
+
+“I wonder what riding a mile a minute would be like,” said Florence.
+“I’ll sure make Link take me. Oh, but look at him come!”
+
+The giant car resembled a white demon, and but for the dust would have
+appeared to be sailing in the air. Its motion was steadily forward,
+holding to the road as if on rails. And its velocity was astounding.
+Long, gray veils, like pennants, streamed in the wind. A low rushing
+sound became perceptible, and it grew louder, became a roar. The car
+shot like an arrow past the alfalfa-field, by the bunk-houses, where the
+cowboys waved and cheered. The horses and burros in the corrals began to
+snort and tramp and race in fright. At the base of the long slope of
+the foothill Link cut the speed more than half. Yet the car roared up,
+rolling the dust, flying capes and veils and ulsters, and crashed and
+cracked to a halt in the yard before the porch.
+
+Madeline descried a gray, disheveled mass of humanity packed inside the
+car. Besides the driver there were seven occupants, and for a moment
+they appeared to be coming to life, moving and exclaiming under the
+veils and wraps and dust-shields.
+
+Link Stevens stepped out and, removing helmet and goggles, coolly looked
+at his watch.
+
+“An hour an’ a quarter, Miss Hammond,” he said. “It’s sixty-three miles
+by the valley road, an’ you know there’s a couple of bad hills. I reckon
+we made fair time, considerin’ you wanted me to drive slow an’ safe.”
+
+From the mass of dusty-veiled humanity in the car came low exclamations
+and plaintive feminine wails.
+
+Madeline stepped to the front of the porch. Then the deep voices of
+men and softer voices of women united in one glad outburst, as much a
+thanksgiving as a greeting, “MAJESTY!”
+
+          *****
+
+Helen Hammond was three years younger than Madeline, and a slender,
+pretty girl. She did not resemble her sister, except in whiteness and
+fineness of skin, being more of a brown-eyed, brown-haired type. Having
+recovered her breath soon after Madeline took her to her room, she began
+to talk.
+
+“Majesty, old girl, I’m here; but you can bet I would never have gotten
+here if I had known about that ride from the railroad. You never wrote
+that you had a car. I thought this was out West—stage-coach, and
+all that sort of thing. Such a tremendous car! And the road! And that
+terrible little man with the leather trousers! What kind of a chauffeur
+is he?”
+
+“He’s a cowboy. He was crippled by falling under his horse, so I had him
+instructed to run the car. He can drive, don’t you think?”
+
+“Drive? Good gracious! He scared us to death, except Castleton. Nothing
+could scare that cold-blooded little Englishman. I am dizzy yet. Do
+you know, Majesty, I was delighted when I saw the car. Then your cowboy
+driver met us at the platform. What a queer-looking individual! He had
+a big pistol strapped to those leather trousers. That made me nervous.
+When he piled us all in with our grips, he put me in the seat beside
+him, whether I liked it or not. I was fool enough to tell him I loved
+to travel fast. What do you think he said? Well, he eyed me in a
+rather cool and speculative way and said, with a smile, ‘Miss, I reckon
+anything you love an’ want bad will be coming to you out here!’ I didn’t
+know whether it was delightful candor or impudence. Then he said to all
+of us: ‘Shore you had better wrap up in the veils an’ dusters. It’s a
+long, slow, hot, dusty ride to the ranch, an’ Miss Hammond’s order was
+to drive safe.’ He got our baggage checks and gave them to a man with
+a huge wagon and a four-horse team. Then he cranked the car, jumped in,
+wrapped his arms round the wheel, and sank down low in his seat. There
+was a crack, a jerk, a kind of flash around us, and that dirty little
+town was somewhere on the map behind. For about five minutes I had a
+lovely time. Then the wind began to tear me to pieces. I couldn’t hear
+anything but the rush of wind and roar of the car. I could see only
+straight ahead. What a road! I never saw a road in my life till to-day.
+Miles and miles and miles ahead, with not even a post or tree. That big
+car seemed to leap at the miles. It hummed and sang. I was fascinated,
+then terrified. We went so fast I couldn’t catch my breath. The wind
+went through me, and I expected to be disrobed by it any minute. I was
+afraid I couldn’t hold any clothes on. Presently all I could see was
+a flashing gray wall with a white line in the middle. Then my eyes
+blurred. My face burned. My ears grew full of a hundred thousand howling
+devils. I was about ready to die when the car stopped. I looked and
+looked, and when I could see, there you stood!”
+
+“Helen, I thought you were fond of speeding,” said Madeline, with a
+laugh.
+
+“I was. But I assure you I never before was in a fast car; I never saw a
+road; I never met a driver.”
+
+“Perhaps I may have a few surprises for you out here in the wild and
+woolly West.”
+
+Helen’s dark eyes showed a sister’s memory of possibilities.
+
+“You’ve started well,” she said. “I am simply stunned. I expected to
+find you old and dowdy. Majesty, you’re the handsomest thing I ever
+laid eyes on. You’re so splendid and strong, and your skin is like white
+gold. What’s happened to you? What’s changed you? This beautiful
+room, those glorious roses out there, the cool, dark sweetness of this
+wonderful house! I know you, Majesty, and, though you never wrote it, I
+believe you have made a home out here. That’s the most stunning surprise
+of all. Come, confess. I know I’ve always been selfish and not much of
+a sister; but if you are happy out here I am glad. You were not happy at
+home. Tell me about yourself and about Alfred. Then I shall give you all
+the messages and news from the East.”
+
+It afforded Madeline exceeding pleasure to have from one and all of
+her guests varied encomiums of her beautiful home, and a real and warm
+interest in what promised to be a delightful and memorable visit.
+
+Of them all Castleton was the only one who failed to show surprise. He
+greeted her precisely as he had when he had last seen her in London.
+Madeline, rather to her astonishment, found meeting him again
+pleasurable. She discovered she liked this imperturbable Englishman.
+Manifestly her capacity for liking any one had immeasurably enlarged.
+Quite unexpectedly her old girlish love for her younger sister sprang
+into life, and with it interest in these half-forgotten friends, and a
+warm regard for Edith Wayne, a chum of college days.
+
+Helen’s party was smaller than Madeline had expected it to be. Helen had
+been careful to select a company of good friends, all of whom were well
+known to Madeline. Edith Wayne was a patrician brunette, a serious,
+soft-voiced woman, sweet and kindly, despite a rather bitter experience
+that had left her worldly wise. Mrs. Carrollton Beck, a plain, lively
+person, had chaperoned the party. The fourth and last of the feminine
+contingent was Miss Dorothy Coombs—Dot, as they called her—a young
+woman of attractive blond prettiness.
+
+For a man Castleton was of very small stature. He had a pink-and-white
+complexion, a small golden mustache, and his heavy eyelids, always
+drooping, made him look dull. His attire, cut to what appeared to be an
+exaggerated English style, attracted attention to his diminutive size.
+He was immaculate and fastidious. Robert Weede was a rather large florid
+young man, remarkable only for his good nature. Counting Boyd Harvey, a
+handsome, pale-faced fellow, with the careless smile of the man for whom
+life had been easy and pleasant, the party was complete.
+
+Dinner was a happy hour, especially for the Mexican women who served it
+and who could not fail to note its success. The mingling of low voices
+and laughter, the old, gay, superficial talk, the graciousness of a
+class which lived for the pleasure of things and to make time pass
+pleasurably for others—all took Madeline far back into the past. She
+did not care to return to it, but she saw that it was well she had not
+wholly cut herself off from her people and friends.
+
+When the party adjourned to the porch the heat had markedly decreased
+and the red sun was sinking over the red desert. An absence of spoken
+praise, a gradually deepening silence, attested to the impression on
+the visitors of that noble sunset. Just as the last curve of red rim
+vanished beyond the dim Sierra Madres and the golden lightning began to
+flare brighter Helen broke the silence with an exclamation.
+
+“It wants only life. Ah, there’s a horse climbing the hill! See, he’s
+up! He has a rider!”
+
+Madeline knew before she looked the identity of the man riding up the
+mesa. But she did not know until that moment how the habit of watching
+for him at this hour had grown upon her. He rode along the rim of the
+mesa and out to the point, where, against the golden background, horse
+and rider stood silhouetted in bold relief.
+
+“What’s he doing there? Who is he?” inquired the curious Helen.
+
+“That is Stewart, my right-hand man,” replied Madeline. “Every day when
+he is at the ranch he rides up there at sunset. I think he likes the
+ride and the scene; but he goes to take a look at the cattle in the
+valley.”
+
+“Is he a cowboy?” asked Helen.
+
+“Indeed yes!” replied Madeline, with a little laugh. “You will think so
+when Stillwell gets hold of you and begins to talk.”
+
+Madeline found it necessary to explain who Stillwell was, and what he
+thought of Stewart, and, while she was about it, of her own accord she
+added a few details of Stewart’s fame.
+
+“El Capitan. How interesting!” mused Helen. “What does he look like?”
+
+“He is superb.”
+
+Florence handed the field-glass to Helen and bade her look.
+
+“Oh, thank you!” said Helen, as she complied. “There. I see him. Indeed,
+he is superb. What a magnificent horse! How still he stands! Why, he
+seems carved in stone.”
+
+“Let me look?” said Dorothy Coombs, eagerly.
+
+Helen gave her the glass.
+
+“You can look, Dot, but that’s all. He’s mine. I saw him first.”
+
+Whereupon Madeline’s feminine guests held a spirited contest over
+the field-glass, and three of them made gay, bantering boasts not to
+consider Helen’s self-asserted rights. Madeline laughed with the others
+while she watched the dark figure of Stewart and his black outline
+against the sky. There came over her a thought not by any means new or
+strange—she wondered what was in Stewart’s mind as he stood there in
+the solitude and faced the desert and the darkening west. Some day she
+meant to ask him. Presently he turned the horse and rode down into the
+shadow creeping up the mesa.
+
+“Majesty, have you planned any fun, any excitement for us?” asked Helen.
+She was restless, nervous, and did not seem to be able to sit still a
+moment.
+
+“You will think so when I get through with you,” replied Madeline.
+
+“What, for instance?” inquired Helen and Dot and Mrs. Beck, in unison.
+Edith Wayne smiled her interest.
+
+“Well, I am not counting rides and climbs and golf; but these are
+necessary to train you for trips over into Arizona. I want to show you
+the desert and the Aravaipa Canyon. We have to go on horseback and pack
+our outfit. If any of you are alive after those trips and want more we
+shall go up into the mountains. I should like very much to know what you
+each want particularly.”
+
+“I’ll tell you,” replied Helen, promptly. “Dot will be the same out here
+as she was in the East. She wants to look bashfully down at her hand—a
+hand imprisoned in another, by the way—and listen to a man talk poetry
+about her eyes. If cowboys don’t make love that way Dot’s visit will
+be a failure. Now Elsie Beck wants solely to be revenged upon us for
+dragging her out here. She wants some dreadful thing to happen to us. I
+don’t know what’s in Edith’s head, but it isn’t fun. Bobby wants to be
+near Elsie, and no more. Boyd wants what he has always wanted—the
+only thing he ever wanted that he didn’t get. Castleton has a horrible
+bloodthirsty desire to kill something.”
+
+“I declare now, I want to ride and camp out, also,” protested Castleton.
+
+“As for myself,” went on Helen, “I want—Oh, if I only knew what it is
+that I want! Well, I know I want to be outdoors, to get into the open,
+to feel sun and wind, to burn some color into my white face. I want some
+flesh and blood and life. I am tired out. Beyond all that I don’t know
+very well. I’ll try to keep Dot from attaching all the cowboys to her
+train.”
+
+“What a diversity of wants!” said Madeline.
+
+“Above all, Majesty, we want something to happen,” concluded Helen, with
+passionate finality.
+
+“My dear sister, maybe you will have your wish fulfilled,” replied
+Madeline, soberly. “Edith, Helen has made me curious about your especial
+yearning.”
+
+“Majesty, it is only that I wanted to be with you for a while,” replied
+this old friend.
+
+There was in the wistful reply, accompanied by a dark and eloquent
+glance of eyes, what told Madeline of Edith’s understanding, of her
+sympathy, and perhaps a betrayal of her own unquiet soul. It saddened
+Madeline. How many women might there not be who had the longing to break
+down the bars of their cage, but had not the spirit!
+
+
+
+
+XIII. Cowboy Golf
+
+
+In the whirl of the succeeding days it was a mooted question whether
+Madeline’s guests or her cowboys or herself got the keenest enjoyment
+out of the flying time. Considering the sameness of the cowboys’
+ordinary life, she was inclined to think they made the most of the
+present. Stillwell and Stewart, however, had found the situation trying.
+The work of the ranch had to go on, and some of it got sadly neglected.
+Stillwell could not resist the ladies any more than he could resist the
+fun in the extraordinary goings-on of the cowboys. Stewart alone kept
+the business of cattle-raising from a serious setback. Early and late
+he was in the saddle, driving the lazy Mexicans whom he had hired to
+relieve the cowboys.
+
+One morning in June Madeline was sitting on the porch with her merry
+friends when Stillwell appeared on the corral path. He had not come
+to consult Madeline for several days—an omission so unusual as to be
+remarked.
+
+“Here comes Bill—in trouble,” laughed Florence.
+
+Indeed, he bore some faint resemblance to a thundercloud as he
+approached the porch; but the greetings he got from Madeline’s party,
+especially from Helen and Dorothy, chased away the blackness from his
+face and brought the wonderful wrinkling smile.
+
+“Miss Majesty, sure I’m a sad demoralized old cattleman,” he said,
+presently. “An’ I’m in need of a heap of help.”
+
+“What’s wrong now?” asked Madeline, with her encouraging smile.
+
+“Wal, it’s so amazin’ strange what cowboys will do. I jest am about to
+give up. Why, you might say my cowboys were all on strike for vacations.
+What do you think of that? We’ve changed the shifts, shortened hours,
+let one an’ another off duty, hired Greasers, an’, in fact, done
+everythin’ that could be thought of. But this vacation idee growed
+worse. When Stewart set his foot down, then the boys begin to get sick.
+Never in my born days as a cattleman have I heerd of so many diseases.
+An’ you ought to see how lame an’ crippled an’ weak many of the boys
+have got all of a sudden. The idee of a cowboy comin’ to me with a
+sore finger an’ askin’ to be let off for a day! There’s Booly. Now I’ve
+knowed a hoss to fall all over him, an’ onct he rolled down a canyon.
+Never bothered him at all. He’s got a blister on his heel, a ridin’
+blister, an’ he says it’s goin’ to blood-poisonin’ if he doesn’t rest.
+There’s Jim Bell. He’s developed what he says is spinal mengalootis,
+or some such like. There’s Frankie Slade. He swore he had scarlet fever
+because his face burnt so red, I guess, an’ when I hollered that scarlet
+fever was contagious an’ he must be put away somewhere, he up an’ says
+he guessed it wasn’t that. But he was sure awful sick an’ needed to loaf
+around an’ be amused. Why, even Nels doesn’t want to work these days. If
+it wasn’t for Stewart, who’s had Greasers with the cattle, I don’t know
+what I’d do.”
+
+“Why all this sudden illness and idleness?” asked Madeline.
+
+“Wal, you see, the truth is every blamed cowboy on the range except
+Stewart thinks it’s his bounden duty to entertain the ladies.”
+
+“I think that is just fine!” exclaimed Dorothy Coombs; and she joined in
+the general laugh.
+
+“Stewart, then, doesn’t care to help entertain us?” inquired Helen, in
+curious interest. “Wal, Miss Helen, Stewart is sure different from the
+other cowboys,” replied Stillwell. “Yet he used to be like them. There
+never was a cowboy fuller of the devil than Gene. But he’s changed. He’s
+foreman here, an’ that must be it. All the responsibility rests on him.
+He sure has no time for amusin’ the ladies.”
+
+“I imagine that is our loss,” said Edith Wayne, in her earnest way. “I
+admire him.”
+
+“Stillwell, you need not be so distressed with what is only gallantry in
+the boys, even if it does make a temporary confusion in the work,” said
+Madeline.
+
+“Miss Majesty, all I said is not the half, nor the quarter, nor nuthin’
+of what’s troublin’ me,” answered he, sadly.
+
+“Very well; unburden yourself.”
+
+“Wal, the cowboys, exceptin’ Gene, have gone plumb batty, jest plain
+crazy over this heah game of gol-lof.”
+
+A merry peal of mirth greeted Stillwell’s solemn assertion.
+
+“Oh, Stillwell, you are in fun,” replied Madeline.
+
+“I hope to die if I’m not in daid earnest,” declared the cattleman.
+“It’s an amazin’ strange fact. Ask Flo. She’ll tell you. She knows
+cowboys, an’ how if they ever start on somethin’ they ride it as they
+ride a hoss.”
+
+Florence being appealed to, and evidently feeling all eyes upon her,
+modestly replied that Stillwell had scarcely misstated the situation.
+
+“Cowboys play like they work or fight,” she added. “They give their
+whole souls to it. They are great big simple boys.”
+
+“Indeed they are,” said Madeline. “Oh, I’m glad if they like the game of
+golf. They have so little play.”
+
+“Wal, somethin’s got to be did if we’re to go on raisin’ cattle at Her
+Majesty’s Rancho,” replied Stillwell. He appeared both deliberate and
+resigned.
+
+Madeline remembered that despite Stillwell’s simplicity he was as deep
+as any of his cowboys, and there was absolutely no gaging him where
+possibilities of fun were concerned. Madeline fancied that his
+exaggerated talk about the cowboys’ sudden craze for golf was in line
+with certain other remarkable tales that had lately emanated from him.
+Some very strange things had occurred of late, and it was impossible to
+tell whether or not they were accidents, mere coincidents, or deep-laid,
+skilfully worked-out designs of the fun-loving cowboys. Certainly there
+had been great fun, and at the expense of her guests, particularly
+Castleton. So Madeline was at a loss to know what to think about
+Stillwell’s latest elaboration. From mere force of habit she sympathized
+with him and found difficulty in doubting his apparent sincerity.
+
+“To go back a ways,” went on Stillwell, as Madeline looked up
+expectantly, “you recollect what pride the boys took in fixin’ up that
+gol-lof course out on the mesa? Wal, they worked on that job, an’ though
+I never seen any other course, I’ll gamble yours can’t be beat. The boys
+was sure curious about that game. You recollect also how they all wanted
+to see you an’ your brother play, an’ be caddies for you? Wal, whenever
+you’d quit they’d go to work tryin’ to play the game. Monty Price, he
+was the leadin’ spirit. Old as I am, Miss Majesty, an’ used as I am to
+cowboy excentrikities, I nearly dropped daid when I heered that little
+hobble-footed, burned-up Montana cow-puncher say there wasn’t any
+game too swell for him, an’ gol-lof was just his speed. Serious as a
+preacher, mind you, he was. An’ he was always practisin’. When Stewart
+gave him charge of the course an’ the club-house an’ all them funny
+sticks, why, Monty was tickled to death. You see, Monty is sensitive
+that he ain’t much good any more for cowboy work. He was glad to have a
+job that he didn’t feel he was hangin’ to by kindness. Wal, he practised
+the game, an’ he read the books in the club-house, an’ he got the boys
+to doin’ the same. That wasn’t very hard, I reckon. They played early
+an’ late an’ in the moonlight. For a while Monty was coach, an’ the boys
+stood it. But pretty soon Frankie Slade got puffed on his game, an’ he
+had to have it out with Monty. Wal, Monty beat him bad. Then one after
+another the other boys tackled Monty. He beat them all. After that they
+split up an’ begin to play matches, two on a side. For a spell this
+worked fine. But cowboys can’t never be satisfied long onless they win
+all the time. Monty an’ Link Stevens, both cripples, you might say,
+joined forces an’ elected to beat all comers. Wal, they did, an’ that’s
+the trouble. Long an’ patient the other cowboys tried to beat them two
+game legs, an’ hevn’t done it. Mebbe if Monty an’ Link was perfectly
+sound in their legs like the other cowboys there wouldn’t hev been such
+a holler. But no sound cowboys’ll ever stand for a disgrace like that.
+Why, down at the bunks in the evenin’s it’s some mortifyin’ the way
+Monty an’ Link crow over the rest of the outfit. They’ve taken on
+superior airs. You couldn’t reach up to Monty with a trimmed spruce
+pole. An’ Link—wal, he’s just amazin’ scornful.
+
+“‘It’s a swell game, ain’t it?’ says Link, powerful sarcastic. ‘Wal,
+what’s hurtin’ you low-down common cowmen? You keep harpin’ on Monty’s
+game leg an’ on my game leg. If we hed good legs we’d beat you all the
+wuss. It’s brains that wins in gol-lof. Brains an’ airstoocratik blood,
+which of the same you fellers sure hev little.’
+
+“An’ then Monty he blows smoke powerful careless an’ superior, an’ he
+says:
+
+“‘Sure it’s a swell game. You cow-headed gents think beef an’ brawn
+ought to hev the call over skill an’ gray matter. You’ll all hev to back
+up an’ get down. Go out an’ learn the game. You don’t know a baffy from
+a Chinee sandwich. All you can do is waggle with a club an’ fozzle the
+ball.’
+
+“Whenever Monty gets to usin’ them queer names the boys go round kind of
+dotty. Monty an’ Link hev got the books an’ directions of the game, an’
+they won’t let the other boys see them. They show the rules, but
+that’s all. An’, of course, every game ends in a row almost before it’s
+started. The boys are all turrible in earnest about this gol-lof. An’ I
+want to say, for the good of ranchin’, not to mention a possible fight,
+that Monty an’ Link hev got to be beat. There’ll be no peace round this
+ranch till that’s done.”
+
+Madeline’s guests were much amused. As for herself, in spite of her
+scarcely considered doubt, Stillwell’s tale of woe occasioned her
+anxiety. However, she could hardly control her mirth.
+
+“What in the world can I do?”
+
+“Wal, I reckon I couldn’t say. I only come to you for advice. It seems
+that a queer kind of game has locoed my cowboys, an’ for the time bein’
+ranchin’ is at a standstill. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but cowboys are
+as strange as wild cattle. All I’m sure of is that the conceit has got
+to be taken out of Monty an’ Link. Onct, just onct, will square it, an’
+then we can resoome our work.”
+
+“Stillwell, listen,” said Madeline, brightly. “We’ll arrange a match
+game, a foursome, between Monty and Link and your best picked team.
+Castleton, who is an expert golfer, will umpire. My sister, and friends,
+and I will take turns as caddies for your team. That will be fair,
+considering yours is the weaker. Caddies may coach, and perhaps expert
+advice is all that is necessary for your team to defeat Monty’s.”
+
+“A grand idee,” declared Stillwell, with instant decision. “When can we
+have this match game?”
+
+“Why, to-day—this afternoon. We’ll all ride out to the links.”
+
+“Wal, I reckon I’ll be some indebted to you, Miss Majesty, an’ all your
+guests,” replied Stillwell, warmly. He rose with sombrero in hand, and a
+twinkle in his eye that again prompted Madeline to wonder. “An’ now I’ll
+be goin’ to fix up for the game of cowboy gol-lof. Adios.”
+
+The idea was as enthusiastically received by Madeline’s guests as it had
+been by Stillwell. They were highly amused and speculative to the
+point of taking sides and making wagers on their choice. Moreover, this
+situation so frankly revealed by Stillwell had completed their deep
+mystification. They were now absolutely nonplussed by the singular
+character of American cowboys. Madeline was pleased to note how
+seriously they had taken the old cattleman’s story. She had a little
+throb of wild expectancy that made her both fear and delight in the
+afternoon’s prospect.
+
+The June days had set in warm; in fact, hot during the noon hours: and
+this had inculcated in her insatiable visitors a tendency to profit
+by the experience of those used to the Southwest. They indulged in the
+restful siesta during the heated term of the day.
+
+Madeline was awakened by Majesty’s well-known whistle and pounding on
+the gravel. Then she heard the other horses. When she went out she found
+her party assembled in gala golf attire, and with spirits to match their
+costumes. Castleton, especially, appeared resplendent in a golf coat
+that beggared description. Madeline had faint misgivings when she
+reflected on what Monty and Nels and Nick might do under the influence
+of that blazing garment.
+
+“Oh. Majesty,” cried Helen, as Madeline went up to her horse, “don’t
+make him kneel! Try that flying mount. We all want to see it. It’s so
+stunning.”
+
+“But that way, too, I must have him kneel,” said Madeline, “or I can’t
+reach the stirrup. He’s so tremendously high.”
+
+Madeline had to yield to the laughing insistence of her friends, and
+after all of them except Florence were up she made Majesty go down on
+one knee. Then she stood on his left side, facing back, and took a good
+firm grip on the bridle and pommel and his mane. After she had slipped
+the toe of her boot firmly into the stirrup she called to Majesty. He
+jumped and swung her up into the saddle.
+
+“Now just to see how it ought to be done watch Florence,” said Madeline.
+
+The Western girl was at her best in riding-habit and with her horse. It
+was beautiful to see the ease and grace with which she accomplished the
+cowboys’ flying mount. Then she led the party down the slope and across
+the flat to climb the mesa.
+
+Madeline never saw a group of her cowboys without looking them over,
+almost unconsciously, for her foreman, Gene Stewart. This afternoon, as
+usual, he was not present. However, she now had a sense—of which she
+was wholly conscious—that she was both disappointed and irritated. He
+had really not been attentive to her guests, and he, of all her
+cowboys, was the one of whom they wanted most to see something. Helen,
+particularly, had asked to have him attend the match. But Stewart was
+with the cattle. Madeline thought of his faithfulness, and was ashamed
+of her momentary lapse into that old imperious habit of desiring things
+irrespective of reason.
+
+Stewart, however, immediately slipped out of her mind as she surveyed
+the group of cowboys on the links. By actual count there were sixteen,
+not including Stillwell. And the same number of splendid horses, all
+shiny and clean, grazed on the rim in the care of Mexican lads. The
+cowboys were on dress-parade, looking very different in Madeline’s eyes,
+at least, from the way cowboys usually appeared. But they were real and
+natural to her guests; and they were so picturesque that they might have
+been stage cowboys instead of real ones. Sombreros with silver
+buckles and horsehair bands were in evidence; and bright silk scarfs,
+embroidered vests, fringed and ornamented chaps, huge swinging guns, and
+clinking silver spurs lent a festive appearance.
+
+Madeline and her party were at once eagerly surrounded by the cowboys,
+and she found it difficult to repress a smile. If these cowboys were
+still remarkable to her, what must they be to her guests?
+
+“Wal, you-all raced over, I seen,” said Stillwell, taking Madeline’s
+bridle. “Get down—get down. We’re sure amazin’ glad an’ proud. An’,
+Miss Majesty, I’m offerin’ to beg pawdin for the way the boys are
+packin’ guns. Mebbe it ain’t polite. But it’s Stewart’s orders.”
+
+“Stewart’s orders!” echoed Madeline. Her friends were suddenly silent.
+
+“I reckon he won’t take no chances on the boys bein’ surprised sudden
+by raiders. An’ there’s raiders operatin’ in from the Guadalupes. That’s
+all. Nothin’ to worry over. I was just explainin’.”
+
+Madeline, with several of her party, expressed relief, but Helen showed
+excitement and then disappointment.
+
+“Oh, I want something to happen!” she cried.
+
+Sixteen pairs of keen cowboy eyes fastened intently upon her pretty,
+petulant face; and Madeline divined, if Helen did not, that the desired
+consummation was not far off.
+
+“So do I,” said Dot Coombs. “It would be perfectly lovely to have a real
+adventure.”
+
+The gaze of the sixteen cowboys shifted and sought the demure face of
+this other discontented girl. Madeline laughed, and Stillwell wore his
+strange, moving smile.
+
+“Wal, I reckon you ladies sure won’t have to go home unhappy,” he said.
+“Why, as boss of this heah outfit I’d feel myself disgraced forever if
+you didn’t have your wish. Just wait. An’ now, ladies, the matter on
+hand may not be amusin’ or excitin’ to you; but to this heah cowboy
+outfit it’s powerful important. An’ all the help you can give us will
+sure be thankfully received. Take a look across the links. Do you-all
+see them two apologies for human bein’s prancin’ like a couple of
+hobbled broncs? Wal, you’re gazin’ at Monty Price an’ Link Stevens,
+who have of a sudden got too swell to associate with their old bunkies.
+They’re practisin’ for the toornament. They don’t want my boys to see
+how they handle them crooked clubs.”
+
+“Have you picked your team?” inquired Madeline.
+
+Stillwell mopped his red face with an immense bandana, and showed
+something of confusion and perplexity.
+
+“I’ve sixteen boys, an’ they all want to play,” he replied. “Pickin’ the
+team ain’t goin’ to be an easy job. Mebbe it won’t be healthy, either.
+There’s Nels and Nick. They just stated cheerful-like that if they
+didn’t play we won’t have any game at all. Nick never tried before, an’
+Nels, all he wants is to get a crack at Monty with one of them crooked
+clubs.”
+
+“I suggest you let all your boys drive from the tee and choose the two
+who drive the farthest,” said Madeline.
+
+Stillwell’s perplexed face lighted up.
+
+“Wal, that’s a plumb good idee. The boys’ll stand for that.”
+
+Wherewith he broke up the admiring circle of cowboys round the ladies.
+
+“Grap a rope—I mean a club—all you cow-punchers, an’ march over hyar
+an’ take a swipe at this little white bean.”
+
+The cowboys obeyed with alacrity. There was considerable difficulty over
+the choice of clubs and who should try first. The latter question had
+to be adjusted by lot. However, after Frankie Slade made several
+ineffectual attempts to hit the ball from the teeing-ground, at last to
+send it only a few yards, the other players were not so eager to follow.
+Stillwell had to push Booly forward, and Booly executed a most miserable
+shot and retired to the laughing comments of his comrades. The efforts
+of several succeeding cowboys attested to the extreme difficulty of
+making a good drive.
+
+“Wal, Nick, it’s your turn,” said Stillwell.
+
+“Bill, I ain’t so all-fired particular about playin’,” replied Nick.
+
+“Why? You was roarin’ about it a little while ago. Afraid to show how
+bad you’ll play?”
+
+“Nope, jest plain consideration for my feller cow-punchers,” answered
+Nick, with spirit. “I’m appreciatin’ how bad they play, an’ I’m not mean
+enough to show them up.”
+
+“Wal, you’ve got to show me,” said Stillwell. “I know you never seen
+a gol-lof stick in your life. What’s more, I’ll bet you can’t hit that
+little ball square—not in a dozen cracks at it.”
+
+“Bill, I’m also too much of a gent to take your money. But you know I’m
+from Missouri. Gimme a club.”
+
+Nick’s angry confidence seemed to evaporate as one after another he took
+up and handled the clubs. It was plain that he had never before wielded
+one. But, also, it was plain that he was not the kind of a man to give
+in. Finally he selected a driver, looked doubtfully at the small knob,
+and then stepped into position on the teeing-ground.
+
+Nick Steele stood six feet four inches in height. He had the rider’s
+wiry slenderness, yet he was broad of shoulder. His arms were long.
+Manifestly he was an exceedingly powerful man. He swung the driver
+aloft and whirled it down with a tremendous swing. Crack! The white ball
+disappeared, and from where it had been rose a tiny cloud of dust.
+
+Madeline’s quick sight caught the ball as it lined somewhat to the
+right. It was shooting low and level with the speed of a bullet. It went
+up and up in swift, beautiful flight, then lost its speed and began to
+sail, to curve, to drop; and it fell out of sight beyond the rim of the
+mesa. Madeline had never seen a drive that approached this one. It was
+magnificent, beyond belief except for actual evidence of her own eyes.
+
+The yelling of the cowboys probably brought Nick Steele out of the
+astounding spell with which he beheld his shot. Then Nick, suddenly
+alive to the situation, recovered from his trance and, resting
+nonchalantly upon his club, he surveyed Stillwell and the boys. After
+their first surprised outburst they were dumb.
+
+“You-all seen thet?” Nick grandly waved his hand. “Thaught I was
+joshin’, didn’t you? Why, I used to go to St. Louis an’ Kansas City to
+play this here game. There was some talk of the golf clubs takin’ me
+down East to play the champions. But I never cared fer the game. Too
+easy fer me! Them fellers back in Missouri were a lot of cheap dubs,
+anyhow, always kickin’ because whenever I hit a ball hard I always lost
+it. Why, I hed to hit sort of left-handed to let ’em stay in my class.
+Now you-all can go ahead an’ play Monty an’ Link. I could beat ’em both,
+playin’ with one hand, if I wanted to. But I ain’t interested. I jest
+hit thet ball off the mesa to show you. I sure wouldn’t be seen playin’
+on your team.”
+
+With that Nick sauntered away toward the horses. Stillwell appeared
+crushed. And not a scornful word was hurled after Nick, which fact
+proved the nature of his victory. Then Nels strode into the limelight.
+As far as it was possible for this iron-faced cowboy to be so, he was
+bland and suave. He remarked to Stillwell and the other cowboys that
+sometimes it was painful for them to judge of the gifts of superior
+cowboys such as belonged to Nick and himself. He picked up the club
+Nick had used and called for a new ball. Stillwell carefully built up
+a little mound of sand and, placing the ball upon it, squared away to
+watch. He looked grim and expectant.
+
+Nels was not so large a man as Nick, and did not look so formidable
+as he waved his club at the gaping cowboys. Still he was lithe,
+tough, strong. Briskly, with a debonair manner, he stepped up and then
+delivered a mighty swing at the ball. He missed. The power and momentum
+of his swing flung him off his feet, and he actually turned upside down
+and spun round on his head. The cowboys howled. Stillwell’s stentorian
+laugh rolled across the mesa. Madeline and her guests found it
+impossible to restrain their mirth. And when Nels got up he cast a
+reproachful glance at Madeline. His feelings were hurt.
+
+His second attempt, not by any means so violent, resulted in as clean a
+miss as the first, and brought jeers from the cowboys. Nels’s red face
+flamed redder. Angrily he swung again. The mound of sand spread over the
+teeing-ground and the exasperating little ball rolled a few inches. This
+time he had to build up the sand mound and replace the ball himself.
+Stillwell stood scornfully by, and the boys addressed remarks to Nels.
+
+“Take off them blinders,” said one.
+
+“Nels, your eyes are shore bad,” said another.
+
+“You don’t hit where you look.”
+
+“Nels, your left eye has sprung a limp.”
+
+“Why, you dog-goned old fule, you cain’t hit thet bawl.”
+
+Nels essayed again, only to meet ignominious failure. Then carefully
+he gathered himself together, gaged distance, balanced the club, swung
+cautiously. And the head of the club made a beautiful curve round the
+ball.
+
+“Shore it’s jest thet crooked club,” he declared.
+
+He changed clubs and made another signal failure. Rage suddenly
+possessing him, he began to swing wildly. Always, it appeared, the
+illusive little ball was not where he aimed. Stillwell hunched his huge
+bulk, leaned hands on knees, and roared his riotous mirth. The cowboys
+leaped up and down in glee.
+
+“You cain’t hit thet bawl,” sang out one of the noisiest. A few more
+whirling, desperate lunges on the part of Nels, all as futile as if
+the ball had been thin air, finally brought to the dogged cowboy a
+realization that golf was beyond him.
+
+Stillwell bawled: “Oh, haw, haw, haw! Nels, you’re—too old—eyes no
+good!”
+
+Nels slammed down the club, and when he straightened up with the red
+leaving his face, then the real pride and fire of the man showed.
+Deliberately he stepped off ten paces and turned toward the little mound
+upon which rested the ball. His arm shot down, elbow crooked, hand like
+a claw.
+
+“Aw, Nels, this is fun!” yelled Stillwell.
+
+But swift as a gleam of light Nels flashed his gun, and the report came
+with the action. Chips flew from the golf-ball as it tumbled from the
+mound. Nels had hit it without raising the dust. Then he dropped the
+gun back in its sheath and faced the cowboys.
+
+“Mebbe my eyes ain’t so orful bad,” he said, coolly, and started to walk
+off.
+
+“But look ah-heah, Nels,” yelled Stillwell, “we come out to play
+gol-lof! We can’t let you knock the ball around with your gun. What’d
+you want to get mad for? It’s only fun. Now you an’ Nick hang round
+heah an’ be sociable. We ain’t depreciatin’ your company none, nor your
+usefulness on occasions. An’ if you just hain’t got inborn politeness
+sufficient to do the gallant before the ladies, why, remember Stewart’s
+orders.”
+
+“Stewart’s orders?” queried Nels, coming to a sudden halt.
+
+“That’s what I said,” replied Stillwell, with asperity. “His orders.
+Are you forgettin’ orders? Wal, you’re a fine cowboy. You an’ Nick an’
+Monty, ’specially, are to obey orders.”
+
+Nels took off his sombrero and scratched his head. “Bill, I reckon I’m
+some forgetful. But I was mad. I’d ‘a’ remembered pretty soon, an’ mebbe
+my manners.”
+
+“Sure you would,” replied Stillwell. “Wal, now, we don’t seem to be
+proceedin’ much with my gol-lof team. Next ambitious player step up.”
+
+In Ambrose, who showed some skill in driving, Stillwell found one of
+his team. The succeeding players, however, were so poor and so evenly
+matched that the earnest Stillwell was in despair. He lost his temper
+just as speedily as Nels had. Finally Ed Linton’s wife appeared riding
+up with Ambrose’s wife, and perhaps this helped, for Ed suddenly
+disclosed ability that made Stillwell single him out.
+
+“Let me coach you a little,” said Bill.
+
+“Sure, if you like,” replied Ed. “But I know more about this game than
+you do.”
+
+“Wal, then, let’s see you hit a ball straight. Seems to me you got
+good all-fired quick. It’s amazin’ strange,” ere Bill looked around to
+discover the two young wives modestly casting eyes of admiration upon
+their husbands. “Haw, haw! It ain’t so darned strange. Mebbe that’ll
+help some. Now, Ed, stand up and don’t sling your club as if you was
+ropin’ a steer. Come round easy-like an’ hit straight.”
+
+Ed made several attempts which, although better than those of his
+predecessors, were rather discouraging to the exacting coach. Presently,
+after a particularly atrocious shot, Stillwell strode in distress here
+and there, and finally stopped a dozen paces or more in front of the
+teeing-ground. Ed, who for a cowboy was somewhat phlegmatic, calmly made
+ready for another attempt.
+
+“Fore!” he called.
+
+Stillwell stared.
+
+“Fore!” yelled Ed.
+
+“Why’re you hollerin’ that way at me?” demanded Bill.
+
+“I mean for you to lope off the horizon. Get back from in front.”
+
+“Oh, that was one of them durned crazy words Monty is always hollerin’.
+Wal, I reckon I’m safe enough hyar. You couldn’t hit me in a million
+years.”
+
+“Bill, ooze away,” urged Ed.
+
+“Didn’t I say you couldn’t hit me? What am I coachin’ you for? It’s
+because you hit crooked, ain’t it? Wal, go ahaid an’ break your back.”
+
+Ed Linton was a short, heavy man, and his stocky build gave evidence
+of considerable strength. His former strokes had not been made at the
+expense of exertion, but now he got ready for a supreme effort. A sudden
+silence clamped down upon the exuberant cowboys. It was one of those
+fateful moments when the air was charged with disaster. As Ed swung the
+club it fairly whistled.
+
+Crack! Instantly came a thump. But no one saw the ball until it dropped
+from Stillwell’s shrinking body. His big hands went spasmodically to the
+place that hurt, and a terrible groan rumbled from him.
+
+Then the cowboys broke into a frenzy of mirth that seemed to find
+adequate expression only in dancing and rolling accompaniment to their
+howls. Stillwell recovered his dignity as soon as he caught his breath,
+and he advanced with a rueful face.
+
+“Wal, boys, it’s on Bill,” he said. “I’m a livin’ proof of the
+pig-headedness of mankind. Ed, you win. You’re captain of the team. You
+hit straight, an’ if I hadn’t been obstructin’ the general atmosphere
+that ball would sure have gone clear to the Chiricahuas.”
+
+Then making a megaphone of his huge hands, he yelled a loud blast of
+defiance at Monty and Link.
+
+“Hey, you swell gol-lofers! We’re waitin’. Come on if you ain’t scared.”
+
+Instantly Monty and Link quit practising, and like two emperors came
+stalking across the links.
+
+“Guess my bluff didn’t work much,” said Stillwell. Then he turned to
+Madeline and her friends. “Sure I hope, Miss Majesty, that you-all won’t
+weaken an’ go over to the enemy. Monty is some eloquent, an’, besides,
+he has a way of gettin’ people to agree with him. He’ll be plumb wild
+when he heahs what he an’ Link are up against. But it’s a square deal,
+because he wouldn’t help us or lend the book that shows how to play.
+An’, besides, it’s policy for us to beat him. Now, if you’ll elect who’s
+to be caddies an’ umpire I’ll be powerful obliged.”
+
+Madeline’s friends were hugely amused over the prospective match; but,
+except for Dorothy and Castleton, they disclaimed any ambition for
+active participation. Accordingly, Madeline appointed Castleton to judge
+the play, Dorothy to act as caddie for Ed Linton, and she herself to be
+caddie for Ambrose. While Stillwell beamingly announced this momentous
+news to his team and supporters Monty and Link were striding up.
+
+Both were diminutive in size, bow-legged, lame in one foot, and
+altogether unprepossessing. Link was young, and Monty’s years, more than
+twice Link’s, had left their mark. But it would have been impossible to
+tell Monty’s age. As Stillwell said, Monty was burned to the color and
+hardness of a cinder. He never minded the heat, and always wore heavy
+sheepskin chaps with the wool outside. This made him look broader than
+he was long. Link, partial to leather, had, since he became Madeline’s
+chauffeur, taken to leather altogether. He carried no weapon, but Monty
+wore a huge gun-sheath and gun. Link smoked a cigarette and looked
+coolly impudent. Monty was dark-faced, swaggering, for all the world
+like a barbarian chief.
+
+“That Monty makes my flesh creep,” said Helen, low-voiced. “Really,
+Mr. Stillwell, is he so bad—desperate—as I’ve heard? Did he ever kill
+anybody?”
+
+“Sure. ’Most as many as Nels,” replied Stillwell, cheerfully.
+
+“Oh! And is that nice Mr. Nels a desperado, too? I wouldn’t have thought
+so. He’s so kind and old-fashioned and soft-voiced.”
+
+“Nels is sure an example of the dooplicity of men, Miss Helen. Don’t
+you listen to his soft voice. He’s really as bad as a side-winder
+rattlesnake.”
+
+At this juncture Monty and Link reached the teeing-ground, and Stillwell
+went out to meet them. The other cowboys pressed forward to surround the
+trio. Madeline heard Stillwell’s voice, and evidently he was explaining
+that his team was to have skilled advice during the play. Suddenly there
+came from the center of the group a loud, angry roar that broke off as
+suddenly. Then followed excited voices all mingled together. Presently
+Monty appeared, breaking away from restraining hands, and he strode
+toward Madeline.
+
+Monty Price was a type of cowboy who had never been known to speak to
+a woman unless he was first addressed, and then he answered in blunt,
+awkward shyness. Upon this great occasion, however, it appeared that
+he meant to protest or plead with Madeline, for he showed stress of
+emotion. Madeline had never gotten acquainted with Monty. She was a
+little in awe, if not in fear, of him, and now she found it imperative
+for her to keep in mind that more than any other of the wild fellows on
+her ranch this one should be dealt with as if he were a big boy.
+
+Monty removed his sombrero—something he had never done before—and the
+single instant when it was off was long enough to show his head entirely
+bald. This was one of the hall-marks of that terrible Montana prairie
+fire through which he had fought to save the life of a child. Madeline
+did not forget it, and all at once she wanted to take Monty’s side.
+Remembering Stillwell’s wisdom, however, she forebore yielding to
+sentiment, and called upon her wits.
+
+“Miss—Miss Hammond,” began Monty, stammering, “I’m extendin’ admirin’
+greetin’s to you an’ your friends. Link an’ me are right down proud to
+play the match game with you watchin’. But Bill says you’re goin’ to
+caddie for his team an’ coach ’em on the fine points. An’ I want to ask,
+all respectful, if thet’s fair an’ square?”
+
+“Monty, that is for you to say,” replied Madeline. “It was my
+suggestion. But if you object in the least, of course we shall withdraw.
+It seems fair to me, because you have learned the game; you are expert,
+and I understand the other boys have no chance with you. Then you have
+coached Link. I think it would be sportsmanlike of you to accept the
+handicap.”
+
+“Aw, a handicap! Thet was what Bill was drivin’ at. Why didn’t he say
+so? Every time Bill comes to a word thet’s pie to us old golfers he jest
+stumbles. Miss Majesty, you’ve made it all clear as print. An’ I may
+say with becomin’ modesty thet you wasn’t mistaken none about me
+bein’ sportsmanlike. Me an’ Link was born thet way. An’ we accept the
+handicap. Lackin’ thet handicap, I reckon Link an’ me would have no
+ambish to play our most be-ootiful game. An’ thankin’ you, Miss Majesty,
+an’ all your friends, I want to add thet if Bill’s outfit couldn’t beat
+us before, they’ve got a swell chanct now, with you ladies a-watchin’ me
+an’ Link.”
+
+Monty had seemed to expand with pride as he delivered this speech,
+and at the end he bowed low and turned away. He joined the group round
+Stillwell. Once more there was animated discussion and argument and
+expostulation. One of the cowboys came for Castleton and led him away to
+exploit upon ground rules.
+
+It seemed to Madeline that the game never would begin. She strolled on
+the rim of the mesa, arm in arm with Edith Wayne, and while Edith
+talked she looked out over the gray valley leading to the rugged black
+mountains and the vast red wastes. In the foreground on the gray slope
+she saw cattle in movement and cowboys riding to and fro. She thought
+of Stewart. Then Boyd Harvey came for them, saying all details had
+been arranged. Stillwell met them half-way, and this cool, dry, old
+cattleman, whose face and manner scarcely changed at the announcement of
+a cattle-raid, now showed extreme agitation.
+
+“Wal, Miss Majesty, we’ve gone an’ made a foozle right at the start,” he
+said, dejectedly.
+
+“A foozle? But the game has not yet begun,” replied Madeline.
+
+“A bad start, I mean. It’s amazin’ bad, an’ we’re licked already.”
+
+“What in the world is wrong?”
+
+She wanted to laugh, but Stillwell’s distress restrained her.
+
+“Wal, it’s this way. That darn Monty is as cute an’ slick as a fox.
+After he got done declaimin’ about the handicap he an’ Link was so happy
+to take, he got Castleton over hyar an’ drove us all dotty with his
+crazy gol-lof names. Then he borrowed Castleton’s gol-lof coat. I reckon
+borrowed is some kind word. He just about took that blazin’ coat off the
+Englishman. Though I ain’t sayin’ but that Casleton was agreeable
+when he tumbled to Monty’s meanin’. Which was nothin’ more ’n to break
+Ambrose’s heart. That coat dazzles Ambrose. You know how vain Ambrose
+is. Why, he’d die to get to wear that Englishman’s gol-lof coat. An’
+Monty forestalled him. It’s plumb pitiful to see the look in Ambrose’s
+eyes. He won’t be able to play much. Then what do you think? Monty fixed
+Ed Linton, all right. Usually Ed is easy-goin’ an’ cool. But now he’s
+on the rampage. Wal, mebbe it’s news to you to learn that Ed’s wife is
+powerful, turrible jealous of him. Ed was somethin’ of a devil with the
+wimmen. Monty goes over an’ tells Beulah—that’s Ed’s wife—that Ed is
+goin’ to have for caddie the lovely Miss Dorothy with the goo-goo eyes.
+I reckon this was some disrespectful, but with all doo respect to Miss
+Dorothy she has got a pair of unbridled eyes. Mebbe it’s just natural
+for her to look at a feller like that. Oh, it’s all right; I’m not
+sayin’ any-thin’! I know it’s all proper an’ regular for girls back East
+to use their eyes. But out hyar it’s bound to result disastrous. All the
+boys talk about among themselves is Miss Dot’s eyes, an’ all they brag
+about is which feller is the luckiest. Anyway, sure Ed’s wife knows it.
+An’ Monty up an’ told her that it was fine for her to come out an’ see
+how swell Ed was prancin’ round under the light of Miss Dot’s brown
+eyes. Beulah calls over Ed, figgertively speakin’, ropes him for a
+minnit. Ed comes back huggin’ a grouch as big as a hill. Oh, it was
+funny! He was goin’ to punch Monty’s haid off. An’ Monty stands there
+an’ laughs. Says Monty, sarcastic as alkali water: ‘Ed, we-all knowed
+you was a heap married man, but you’re some locoed to give yourself
+away.’ That settled Ed. He’s some touchy about the way Beulah henpecks
+him. He lost his spirit. An’ now he couldn’t play marbles, let alone
+gol-lof. Nope, Monty was too smart. An’ I reckon he was right about
+brains bein’ what wins.”
+
+The game began. At first Madeline and Dorothy essayed to direct the
+endeavors of their respective players. But all they said and did only
+made their team play the worse. At the third hole they were far behind
+and hopelessly bewildered. What with Monty’s borrowed coat, with its
+dazzling effect upon Ambrose, and Link’s oft-repeated allusion to
+Ed’s matrimonial state, and Stillwell’s vociferated disgust, and the
+clamoring good intention and pursuit of the cowboy supporters, and the
+embarrassing presence of the ladies, Ambrose and Ed wore through all
+manner of strange play until it became ridiculous.
+
+“Hey, Link,” came Monty’s voice booming over the links, “our esteemed
+rivals are playin’ shinny.”
+
+Madeline and Dorothy gave up, presently, when the game became a rout,
+and they sat down with their followers to watch the fun. Whether by hook
+or crook, Ed and Ambrose forged ahead to come close upon Monty and Link.
+Castleton disappeared in a mass of gesticulating, shouting cowboys. When
+that compact mass disintegrated Castleton came forth rather hurriedly,
+it appeared, to stalk back toward his hostess and friends.
+
+“Look!” exclaimed Helen, in delight. “Castleton is actually excited.
+Whatever did they do to him? Oh, this is immense!”
+
+Castleton was excited, indeed, and also somewhat disheveled.
+
+“By Jove! that was a rum go,” he said, as he came up. “Never saw such
+blooming golf! I resigned my office as umpire.”
+
+Only upon considerable pressure did he reveal the reason. “It was like
+this, don’t you know. They were all together over there, watching each
+other. Monty Price’s ball dropped into a hazard, and he moved it to
+improve the lie. By Jove! they’ve all been doing that. But over there
+the game was waxing hot. Stillwell and his cowboys saw Monty move the
+ball, and there was a row. They appealed to me. I corrected the play,
+showed the rules. Monty agreed he was in the wrong. However, when it
+came to moving his ball back to its former lie in the hazard there was
+more blooming trouble. Monty placed the ball to suit him, and then he
+transfixed me with an evil eye.
+
+“‘Dook,’ he said. I wish the bloody cowboy would not call me that.
+‘Dook, mebbe this game ain’t as important as international politics or
+some other things relatin’, but there’s some health an’ peace dependin’
+on it. Savvy? For some space our opponents have been dead to honor an’
+sportsmanlike conduct. I calculate the game depends on my next drive.
+I’m placin’ my ball as near to where it was as human eyesight could.
+You seen where it was same as I seen it. You’re the umpire, an’, Dook, I
+take you as a honorable man. Moreover, never in my born days has my word
+been doubted without sorrow. So I’m askin’ you, wasn’t my ball layin’
+just about here?’
+
+“The bloody little desperado smiled cheerfully, and he dropped his right
+hand down to the butt of his gun. By Jove, he did! Then I had to tell a
+blooming lie!”
+
+Castleton even caught the tone of Monty’s voice, but it was plain that
+he had not the least conception that Monty had been fooling. Madeline
+and her friends divined it, however; and, there being no need of
+reserve, they let loose the fountains of mirth.
+
+
+
+
+XIV. Bandits
+
+
+When Madeline and her party recovered composure they sat up to watch the
+finish of the match. It came with spectacular suddenness. A sharp yell
+pealed out, and all the cowboys turned attentively in its direction. A
+big black horse had surmounted the rim of the mesa and was just breaking
+into a run. His rider yelled sharply to the cowboys. They wheeled to
+dash toward their grazing horses.
+
+“That’s Stewart. There is something wrong,” said Madeline, in alarm.
+
+Castleton stared. The other men exclaimed uneasily. The women sought
+Madeline’s face with anxious eyes.
+
+The black got into his stride and bore swiftly down upon them.
+
+“Oh, look at that horse run!” cried Helen. “Look at that fellow ride!”
+
+Helen was not alone in her admiration, for Madeline divided her
+emotions between growing alarm of some danger menacing and a thrill and
+quickening of pulse-beat that tingled over her whenever she saw Stewart
+in violent action. No action of his was any longer insignificant, but
+violent action meant so much. It might mean anything. For one moment she
+remembered Stillwell and all his talk about fun, and plots, and tricks
+to amuse her guest. Then she discountenanced the thought. Stewart might
+lend himself to a little fun, but he cared too much for a horse to run
+him at that speed unless there was imperious need. That alone sufficed
+to answer Madeline’s questioning curiosity. And her alarm mounted to
+fear not so much for herself as for her guests. But what danger could
+there be? She could think of nothing except the guerrillas.
+
+Whatever threatened, it would be met and checked by this man Stewart,
+who was thundering up on his fleet horse; and as he neared her, so that
+she could see the dark gleam of face and eyes, she had a strange feeling
+of trust in her dependence upon him.
+
+The big black was so close to Madeline and her friends that when Stewart
+pulled him the dust and sand kicked up by his pounding hoofs flew in
+their faces.
+
+“Oh, Stewart, what is it?” cried Madeline.
+
+“Guess I scared you, Miss Hammond,” he replied. “But I’m pressed for
+time. There’s a gang of bandits hiding on the ranch, most likely in a
+deserted hut. They held up a train near Agua Prieta. Pat Hawe is with
+the posse that’s trailing them, and you know Pat has no use for us. I’m
+afraid it wouldn’t be pleasant for you or your guests to meet either the
+posse or the bandits.”
+
+“I fancy not,” said Madeline, considerably relieved. “We’ll hurry back
+to the house.”
+
+They exchanged no more speech at the moment, and Madeline’s guests were
+silent. Perhaps Stewart’s actions and looks belied his calm words. His
+piercing eyes roved round the rim of the mesa, and his face was as hard
+and stern as chiseled bronze.
+
+Monty and Nick came galloping up, each leading several horses by the
+bridles. Nels appeared behind them with Majesty, and he was having
+trouble with the roan. Madeline observed that all the other cowboys had
+disappeared.
+
+One sharp word from Stewart calmed Madeline’s horse; the other horses,
+however, were frightened and not inclined to stand. The men mounted
+without trouble, and likewise Madeline and Florence. But Edith Wayne
+and Mrs. Beck, being nervous and almost helpless, were with difficulty
+gotten into the saddle.
+
+“Beg pardon, but I’m pressed for time,” said Stewart, coolly, as with
+iron arm he forced Dorothy’s horse almost to its knees. Dorothy, who was
+active and plucky, climbed astride; and when Stewart loosed his hold on
+bit and mane the horse doubled up and began to buck. Dorothy screamed
+as she shot into the air. Stewart, as quick as the horse, leaped forward
+and caught Dorothy in his arms. She had slipped head downward and, had
+he not caught her, would have had a serious fall. Stewart, handling her
+as if she were a child, turned her right side up to set her upon her
+feet. Dorothy evidently thought only of the spectacle she presented, and
+made startled motions to readjust her riding-habit. It was no time
+to laugh, though Madeline felt as if she wanted to. Besides, it was
+impossible to be anything but sober with Stewart in violent mood. For
+he had jumped at Dorothy’s stubborn mount. All cowboys were masters of
+horses. It was wonderful to see him conquer the vicious animal. He was
+cruel, perhaps, yet it was from necessity. When, presently, he led the
+horse back to Dorothy she mounted without further trouble. Meanwhile,
+Nels and Nick had lifted Helen into her saddle.
+
+“We’ll take the side trail,” said Stewart, shortly, as he swung upon
+the big black. Then he led the way, and the other cowboys trotted in the
+rear.
+
+It was only a short distance to the rim of the mesa, and when Madeline
+saw the steep trail, narrow and choked with weathered stone, she felt
+that her guests would certainly flinch.
+
+“That’s a jolly bad course,” observed Castleton.
+
+The women appeared to be speechless.
+
+Stewart checked his horse at the deep cut where the trail started down.
+
+“Boys, drop over, and go slow,” he said, dismounting. “Flo, you follow.
+Now, ladies, let your horses loose and hold on. Lean forward and hang to
+the pommel. It looks bad. But the horses are used to such trails.”
+
+Helen followed closely after Florence; Mrs. Beck went next, and then
+Edith Wayne. Dorothy’s horse balked.
+
+“I’m not so—so frightened,” said Dorothy. “If only he would behave!”
+
+She began to urge him into the trail, making him rear, when Stewart
+grasped the bit and jerked the horse down.
+
+“Put your foot in my stirrup,” said Stewart. “We can’t waste time.”
+
+He lifted her upon his horse and started him down over the rim.
+
+“Go on, Miss Hammond. I’ll have to lead this nag down. It’ll save time.”
+
+Then Madeline attended to the business of getting down herself. It was a
+loose trail. The weathered slopes seemed to slide under the feet of the
+horses. Dust-clouds formed; rocks rolled and rattled down; cactus spikes
+tore at horse and rider. Mrs. Beck broke into laughter, and there was
+a note in it that suggested hysteria. Once or twice Dorothy murmured
+plaintively. Half the time Madeline could not distinguish those ahead
+through the yellow dust. It was dry and made her cough. The horses
+snorted. She heared Stewart close behind, starting little avalanches
+that kept rolling on Majesty’s fetlocks. She feared his legs might be
+cut or bruised, for some of the stones cracked by and went rattling down
+the slope. At length the clouds of dust thinned and Madeline saw the
+others before her ride out upon a level. Soon she was down, and Stewart
+also.
+
+Here there was a delay, occasioned by Stewart changing Dorothy from his
+horse to her own. This struck Madeline as being singular, and made her
+thoughtful. In fact, the alert, quiet manner of all the cowboys was not
+reassuring. As they resumed the ride it was noticeable that Nels and
+Nick were far in advance, Monty stayed far in the rear, and Stewart rode
+with the party. Madeline heard Boyd Harvey ask Stewart if lawlessness
+such as he had mentioned was not unusual. Stewart replied that, except
+for occasional deeds of outlawry such as might break out in any isolated
+section of the country, there had been peace and quiet along the border
+for years. It was the Mexican revolution that had revived wild times,
+with all the attendant raids and holdups and gun-packing. Madeline knew
+that they were really being escorted home under armed guard.
+
+When they rounded the head of the mesa, bringing into view the
+ranch-house and the valley, Madeline saw dust or smoke hovering over a
+hut upon the outskirts of the Mexican quarters. As the sun had set
+and the light was fading, she could not distinguish which it was. Then
+Stewart set a fast pace for the house. In a few minutes the party was in
+the yard, ready and willing to dismount.
+
+Stillwell appeared, ostensibly cheerful, too cheerful to deceive
+Madeline. She noted also that a number of armed cowboys were walking
+with their horses just below the house.
+
+“Wal, you-all had a nice little run,” Stillwell said, speaking
+generally. “I reckon there wasn’t much need of it. Pat Hawe thinks he’s
+got some outlaws corralled on the ranch. Nothin’ at all to be fussed
+up about. Stewart’s that particular he won’t have you meetin’ with any
+rowdies.”
+
+Many and fervent were the expressions of relief from Madeline’s feminine
+guests as they dismounted and went into the house. Madeline lingered
+behind to speak with Stillwell and Stewart.
+
+“Now, Stillwell, out with it,” she said, briefly.
+
+The cattleman stared, and then he laughed, evidently pleased with her
+keenness.
+
+“Wal, Miss Majesty, there’s goin’ to be a fight somewhere, an’ Stewart
+wanted to get you-all in before it come off. He says the valley’s
+overrun by vaqueros an’ guerrillas an’ robbers, an’ Lord knows what
+else.”
+
+He stamped off the porch, his huge spurs rattling, and started down the
+path toward the waiting men.
+
+Stewart stood in his familiar attentive position, erect, silent, with a
+hand on pommel and bridle.
+
+“Stewart, you are exceedingly—thoughtful of my interests,” she said,
+wanting to thank him, and not readily finding words. “I would not know
+what to do without you. Is there danger?”
+
+“I’m not sure. But I want to be on the safe side.”
+
+She hesitated. It was no longer easy for her to talk to him, and she did
+not know why.
+
+“May I know the special orders you gave Nels and Nick and Monty?” she
+asked.
+
+“Who said I gave those boys special orders?”
+
+“I heard Stillwell tell them so.”
+
+“Of course I’ll tell you if you insist. But why should you worry over
+something that’ll likely never happen?”
+
+“I insist, Stewart,” she replied, quietly.
+
+“My orders were that at least one of them must be on guard near you day
+and night—never to be out of hearing of your voice.”
+
+“I thought as much. But why Nels or Monty or Nick? That seems rather
+hard on them. For that matter, why put any one to keep guard over me? Do
+you not trust any other of my cowboys?”
+
+“I’d trust their honesty, but not their ability.”
+
+“Ability? Of what nature?”
+
+“With guns.”
+
+“Stewart!” she exclaimed.
+
+“Miss Hammond, you have been having such a good time entertaining your
+guests that you forget. I’m glad of that. I wish you had not questioned
+me.”
+
+“Forget what?”
+
+“Don Carlos and his guerrillas.”
+
+“Indeed I have not forgotten. Stewart, you still think Don Carlos tried
+to make off with me—may try it again?”
+
+“I don’t think. I know.”
+
+“And besides all your other duties you have shared the watch with these
+three cowboys?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“It has been going on without my knowledge?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Since when?”
+
+“Since I brought you down from the mountains last month.”
+
+“How long is it to continue?”
+
+“That’s hard to say. Till the revolution is over, anyhow.”
+
+She mused a moment, looking away to the west, where the great void was
+filling with red haze. She believed implicitly in him, and the menace
+hovering near her fell like a shadow upon her present happiness.
+
+“What must I do?” she asked.
+
+“I think you ought to send your friends back East—and go with them,
+until this guerrilla war is over.”
+
+“Why, Stewart, they would be broken-hearted, and so would I.”
+
+He had no reply for that.
+
+“If I do not take your advice it will be the first time since I have
+come to look to you for so much,” she went on. “Cannot you suggest
+something else? My friends are having such a splendid visit. Helen is
+getting well. Oh, I should be sorry to see them go before they want to.”
+
+“We might take them up into the mountains and camp out for a while,” he
+said, presently. “I know a wild place up among the crags. It’s a hard
+climb, but worth the work. I never saw a more beautiful spot. Fine
+water, and it will be cool. Pretty soon it’ll be too hot here for your
+party to go out-of-doors.”
+
+“You mean to hide me away among the crags and clouds?” replied Madeline,
+with a laugh.
+
+“Well, it’d amount to that. Your friends need not know. Perhaps in a few
+weeks this spell of trouble on the border will be over till fall.”
+
+“You say it’s a hard climb up to this place?”
+
+“It surely is. Your friends will get the real thing if they make that
+trip.”
+
+“That suits me. Helen especially wants something to happen. And they are
+all crazy for excitement.”
+
+“They’d get it up there. Bad trails, canyons to head, steep climbs,
+wind-storms, thunder and lightning, rain, mountain-lions and wildcats.”
+
+“Very well, I am decided. Stewart, of course you will take charge? I
+don’t believe I—Stewart, isn’t there something more you could tell
+me—why you think, why you know my own personal liberty is in peril?”
+
+“Yes. But do not ask me what it is. If I hadn’t been a rebel soldier I
+would never have known.”
+
+“If you had not been a rebel soldier, where would Madeline Hammond be
+now?” she asked, earnestly.
+
+He made no reply.
+
+“Stewart,” she continued, with warm impulse, “you once mentioned a debt
+you owed me—” And seeing his dark face pale, she wavered, then went on.
+“It is paid.”
+
+“No, no,” he answered, huskily.
+
+“Yes. I will not have it otherwise.”
+
+“No. That never can be paid.”
+
+Madeline held out her hand.
+
+“It is paid, I tell you,” she repeated.
+
+Suddenly he drew back from the outstretched white hand that seemed to
+fascinate him.
+
+“I’d kill a man to touch your hand. But I won’t touch it on the terms
+you offer.”
+
+His unexpected passion disconcerted her.
+
+“Stewart, no man ever before refused to shake hands with me, for any
+reason. It—it is scarcely flattering,” she said, with a little
+laugh. “Why won’t you? Because you think I offer it as mistress to
+servant—rancher to cowboy?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Then why? The debt you owed me is paid. I cancel it. So why not shake
+hands upon it, as men do?”
+
+“I won’t. That’s all.”
+
+“I fear you are ungracious, whatever your reason,” she replied. “Still,
+I may offer it again some day. Good night.”
+
+He said good night and turned. Madeline wonderingly watched him go down
+the path with his hand on the black horse’s neck.
+
+She went in to rest a little before dressing for dinner, and, being
+fatigued from the day’s riding and excitement, she fell asleep. When she
+awoke it was twilight. She wondered why her Mexican maid had not come to
+her, and she rang the bell. The maid did not put in an appearance, nor
+was there any answer to the ring. The house seemed unusually quiet. It
+was a brooding silence, which presently broke to the sound of footsteps
+on the porch. Madeline recognized Stillwell’s tread, though it appeared
+to be light for him. Then she heard him call softly in at the open
+door of her office. The suggestion of caution in his voice suited the
+strangeness of his walk. With a boding sense of trouble she hurried
+through the rooms. He was standing outside her office door.
+
+“Stillwell!” she exclaimed.
+
+“Anybody with you?” he asked, in a low tone.
+
+“No.”
+
+“Please come out on the porch,” he added.
+
+She complied, and, once out, was enabled to see him. His grave face,
+paler than she had ever beheld it, caused her to stretch an appealing
+hand toward him. Stillwell intercepted it and held it in his own.
+
+“Miss Majesty, I’m amazin’ sorry to tell worrisome news.” He spoke
+almost in a whisper, cautiously looked about him, and seemed both
+hurried and mysterious. “If you’d heerd Stewart cuss you’d sure know how
+we hate to hev to tell you this. But it can’t be avoided. The fact is
+we’re in a bad fix. If your guests ain’t scared out of their skins it’ll
+be owin’ to your nerve an’ how you carry out Stewart’s orders.”
+
+“You can rely upon me,” replied Madeline, firmly, though she trembled.
+
+“Wal, what we’re up against is this: that gang of bandits Pat Hawe was
+chasin’—they’re hidin’ in the house!”
+
+“In the house?” echoed Madeline, aghast.
+
+“Miss Majesty, it’s the amazin’ truth, an’ shamed indeed am I to admit
+it. Stewart—why, he’s wild with rage to think it could hev happened.
+You see, it couldn’t hev happened if I hedn’t sloped the boys off to the
+gol-lof-links, an’ if Stewart hedn’t rid out on the mesa after us. It’s
+my fault. I’ve hed too much femininity around fer my old haid. Gene
+cussed me—he cussed me sure scandalous. But now we’ve got to face
+it—to figger.”
+
+“Do you mean that a gang of hunted outlaws—bandits—have actually taken
+refuge somewhere in my house?” demanded Madeline.
+
+“I sure do. Seems powerful strange to me why you didn’t find somethin’
+was wrong, seem’ all your servants hev sloped.”
+
+“Gone? Ah, I missed my maid! I wondered why no lights were lit. Where
+did my servants go?”
+
+“Down to the Mexican quarters, an’ scared half to death. Now listen.
+When Stewart left you an hour or so ago he follered me direct to where
+me an’ the boys was tryin’ to keep Pat Hawe from tearin’ the ranch to
+pieces. At that we was helpin’ Pat all we could to find them bandits.
+But when Stewart got there he made a difference. Pat was nasty before,
+but seein’ Stewart made him wuss. I reckon Gene to Pat is the same as
+red to a Greaser bull. Anyway, when the sheriff set fire to an old adobe
+hut Stewart called him an’ called him hard. Pat Hawe hed six fellers
+with him, an’ from all appearances bandit-huntin’ was some fiesta. There
+was a row, an ‘it looked bad fer a little. But Gene was cool, an’ he
+controlled the boys. Then Pat an’ his tough de-pooties went on huntin’.
+That huntin’, Miss Majesty, petered out into what was only a farce. I
+reckon Pat could hev kept on foolin’ me an’ the boys, but as soon as
+Stewart showed up on the scene—wal, either Pat got to blunderin’ or
+else we-all shed our blinders. Anyway, the facts stood plain. Pat
+Hawe wasn’t lookin’ hard fer any bandits; he wasn’t daid set huntin’
+anythin’, unless it was trouble fer Stewart. Finally, when Pat’s men
+made fer our storehouse, where we keep ammunition, grub, liquors, an’
+sich, then Gene called a halt. An’ he ordered Pat Hawe off the ranch. It
+was hyar Hawe an’ Stewart locked horns.
+
+“An’ hyar the truth come out. There was a gang of bandits hid
+somewheres, an’ at fust Pat Hawe hed been powerful active an’ earnest in
+his huntin’. But sudden-like he’d fetched a pecooliar change of heart.
+He had been some flustered with Stewart’s eyes a-pryin’ into his moves,
+an’ then, mebbe to hide somethin’, mebbe jest nat’rul, he got mad.
+He hollered law. He pulled down off the shelf his old stock grudge
+on Stewart, accusin’ him over again of that Greaser murder last fall.
+Stewart made him look like a fool—showed him up as bein’ scared of the
+bandits or hevin’ some reason fer slopin’ off the trail. Anyway, the row
+started all right, an’ but fer Nels it might hev amounted to a fight.
+In the thick of it, when Stewart was drivin’ Pat an’ his crowd off the
+place, one of them de-pooties lost his head an’ went fer his gun. Nels
+throwed his gun an’ crippled the feller’s arm. Monty jumped then an’
+throwed two forty-fives, an’ fer a second or so it looked ticklish. But
+the bandit-hunters crawled, an’ then lit out.”
+
+Stillwell paused in the rapid delivery of his narrative; he still
+retained Madeline’s hand, as if by that he might comfort her.
+
+“After Pat left we put our haids together,” began the old cattleman,
+with a long respiration. “We rounded up a lad who hed seen a dozen or
+so fellers—he wouldn’t to they was Greasers—breakin’ through the
+shrubbery to the back of the house. That was while Stewart was ridin’
+out to the mesa. Then this lad seen your servants all runnin’ down the
+hill toward the village. Now, heah’s the way Gene figgers. There sure
+was some deviltry down along the railroad, an’ Pat Hawe trailed bandits
+up to the ranch. He hunts hard an’ then all to onct he quits. Stewart
+says Pat Hawe wasn’t scared, but he discovered signs or somethin’, or
+got wind in some strange way that there was in the gang of bandits some
+fellers he didn’t want to ketch. Sabe? Then Gene, quicker ’n a flash,
+springs his plan on me. He’d go down to Padre Marcos an’ hev him help to
+find out all possible from your Mexican servants. I was to hurry up hyar
+an’ tell you—give you orders, Miss Majesty. Ain’t that amazin’ strange?
+Wal, you’re to assemble all your guests in the kitchen. Make a grand
+bluff an’ pretend, as your help has left, that it’ll be great fun fer
+your guests to cook dinner. The kitchen is the safest room in the house.
+While you’re joshin’ your party along, makin’ a kind of picnic out of
+it, I’ll place cowboys in the long corridor, an’ also outside in the
+corner where the kitchen joins on to the main house. It’s pretty sure
+the bandits think no one’s wise to where they’re hid. Stewart says
+they’re in that end room where the alfalfa is, an’ they’ll slope in the
+night. Of course, with me an’ the boys watchin’, you-all will be safe to
+go to bed. An’ we’re to rouse your guests early before daylight, to hit
+the trail up into the mountains. Tell them to pack outfits before goin’
+to bed. Say as your servants hev sloped, you might as well go campin’
+with the cowboys. That’s all. If we hev any luck your’ friends’ll never
+know they’ve been sittin’ on a powder-mine.”
+
+“Stillwell, do you advise that trip up into the mountains?” asked
+Madeline.
+
+“I reckon I do, considerin’ everythin’. Now, Miss Majesty, I’ve used up
+a lot of time explainin’. You’ll sure keep your nerve?”
+
+“Yes,” Madeline replied, and was surprised at herself. “Better tell
+Florence. She’ll be a power of comfort to you. I’m goin’ now to fetch up
+the boys.”
+
+Instead of returning to her room Madeline went through the office into
+the long corridor. It was almost as dark as night. She fancied she saw
+a slow-gliding figure darker than the surrounding gloom; and she
+entered upon the fulfilment of her part of the plan in something like
+trepidation. Her footsteps were noiseless. Finding the door to the
+kitchen, and going in, she struck lights. Upon passing out again she
+made certain she discerned a dark shape, now motionless, crouching along
+the wall. But she mistrusted her vivid imagination. It took all her
+boldness to enable her unconcernedly and naturally to strike the
+corridor light. Then she went on through her own rooms and thence into
+the patio.
+
+Her guests laughingly and gladly entered into the spirit of the
+occasion. Madeline fancied her deceit must have been perfect, seeing
+that it deceived even Florence. They trooped merrily into the kitchen.
+Madeline, delaying at the door, took a sharp but unobtrusive glance down
+the great, barnlike hall. She saw nothing but blank dark space. Suddenly
+from one side, not a rod distant, protruded a pale, gleaming face
+breaking the even blackness. Instantly it flashed back out of sight. Yet
+that time was long enough for Madeline to see a pair of glittering eyes,
+and to recognize them as Don Carlos’s.
+
+Without betraying either hurry or alarm, she closed the door. It had a
+heavy bolt which she slowly, noiselessly shot. Then the cold amaze that
+had all but stunned her into inaction throbbed into wrath. How dared
+that Mexican steal into her home! What did he mean? Was he one of the
+bandits supposed to be hidden in her house? She was thinking herself
+into greater anger and excitement, and probably would have betrayed
+herself had not Florence, who had evidently seen her bolt the door
+and now read her thoughts, come toward her with a bright, intent,
+questioning look. Madeline caught herself in time.
+
+Thereupon she gave each of her guests a duty to perform. Leading
+Florence into the pantry, she unburdened herself of the secret in one
+brief whisper. Florence’s reply was to point out of the little open
+window, passing which was a file of stealthily moving cowboys.
+Then Madeline lost both anger and fear, retaining only the glow of
+excitement.
+
+Madeline could be gay, and she initiated the abandonment of dignity by
+calling Castleton into the pantry, and, while interesting him in some
+pretext or other, imprinting the outlines of her flour-covered hands
+upon the back of his black coat. Castleton innocently returned to the
+kitchen to be greeted with a roar. That surprising act of the hostess
+set the pace, and there followed a merry, noisy time. Everybody helped.
+The miscellaneous collection of dishes so confusingly contrived made up
+a dinner which they all heartily enjoyed. Madeline enjoyed it herself,
+even with the feeling of a sword hanging suspended over her.
+
+The hour was late when she rose from the table and told her guests to go
+to their rooms, don their riding-clothes, pack what they needed for the
+long and adventurous camping trip that she hoped would be the climax
+of their Western experience, and to snatch a little sleep before the
+cowboys roused them for the early start.
+
+Madeline went immediately to her room, and was getting out her camping
+apparel when a knock interrupted her. She thought Florence had come
+to help her pack. But this knock was upon the door opening out in the
+porch. It was repeated.
+
+“Who’s there?” she questioned.
+
+“Stewart,” came the reply.
+
+She opened the door. He stood on the threshold. Beyond him, indistinct
+in the gloom, were several cowboys.
+
+“May I speak to you?” he asked.
+
+“Certainly.” She hesitated a moment, then asked him in and closed the
+door. “Is—is everything all right?”
+
+“No. These bandits stick to cover pretty close. They must have found
+out we’re on the watch. But I’m sure we’ll get you and your friends away
+before anything starts. I wanted to tell you that I’ve talked with your
+servants. They were just scared. They’ll come back to-morrow, soon
+as Bill gets rid of this gang. You need not worry about them or your
+property.”
+
+“Do you have any idea who is hiding in the house?”
+
+“I was worried some at first. Pat Hawe acted queer. I imagined he’d
+discovered he was trailing bandits who might turn out to be his
+smuggling guerrilla cronies. But talking with your servants, finding
+a bunch of horses upon hidden down in the mesquite behind the
+pond—several things have changed my mind. My idea is that a cowardly
+handful of riffraff outcasts from the border have hidden in your house,
+more by accident than design. We’ll let them go—get rid of them without
+even a shot. If I didn’t think so—well, I’d be considerably worried. It
+would make a different state of affairs.”
+
+“Stewart, you are wrong,” she said.
+
+He started, but his reply did not follow swiftly. The expression of his
+eyes altered. Presently he spoke:
+
+“How so?”
+
+“I saw one of these bandits. I distinctly recognized him.”
+
+One long step brought him close to her.
+
+“Who was he?” demanded Stewart.
+
+“Don Carlos.”
+
+He muttered low and deep, then said, “Are you sure?”
+
+“Absolutely. I saw his figure twice in the hall, then his face in the
+light. I could never mistake his eyes.”
+
+“Did he know you saw him?”
+
+“I am not positive, but I think so. Oh, he must have known! I was
+standing full in the light. I had entered the door, then purposely
+stepped out. His face showed from around a corner, and swiftly flashed
+out of sight.”
+
+Madeline was tremblingly conscious that Stewart underwent a
+transformation. She saw as well as felt the leaping passion that changed
+him.
+
+“Call your friends—get them in here!” he ordered, tersely, and wheeled
+toward the door.
+
+“Stewart, wait!” she said.
+
+He turned. His white face, his burning eyes, his presence now charged
+with definite, fearful meaning, influenced her strangely, weakened her.
+
+“What will you do?” she asked.
+
+“That needn’t concern you. Get your party in here. Bar the windows and
+lock the doors. You’ll be safe.”
+
+“Stewart! Tell me what you intend to do.”
+
+“I won’t tell you,” he replied, and turned away again.
+
+“But I will know,” she said. With a hand on his arm she detained him.
+She saw how he halted—felt the shock in him as she touched him. “Oh, I
+do know. You mean to fight!”
+
+“Well, Miss Hammond, isn’t it about time?” he asked. Evidently he
+overcame a violent passion for instant action. There was weariness,
+dignity, even reproof in his question. “The fact of that Mexican’s
+presence here in your house ought to prove to you the nature of the
+case. These vaqueros, these guerrillas, have found out you won’t stand
+for any fighting on the part of your men. Don Carlos is a sneak, a
+coward, yet he’s not afraid to hide in your own house. He has learned
+you won’t let your cowboys hurt anybody. He’s taking advantage of it.
+He’ll rob, burn, and make off with you. He’ll murder, too, if it falls
+his way. These Greasers use knives in the dark. So I ask—isn’t it about
+time we stop him?”
+
+“Stewart, I forbid you to fight, unless in self-defense. I forbid you.”
+
+“What I mean to do is self-defense. Haven’t I tried to explain to you
+that just now we’ve wild times along this stretch of border? Must I tell
+you again that Don Carlos is hand and glove with the revolution? The
+rebels are crazy to stir up the United States. You are a woman of
+prominence. Don Carlos would make off with you. If he got you, what
+little matter to cross the border with you! Well, where would the
+hue and cry go? Through the troops along the border! To New York! To
+Washington! Why, it would mean what the rebels are working for—United
+States intervention. In other words, war!”
+
+“Oh, surely you exaggerate!” she cried.
+
+“Maybe so. But I’m beginning to see the Don’s game. And, Miss Hammond,
+I—It’s awful for me to think what you’d suffer if Don Carlos got you
+over the line. I know these low-caste Mexicans. I’ve been among the
+peons—the slaves.”
+
+“Stewart, don’t let Don Carlos get me,” replied Madeline, in sweet
+directness.
+
+She saw him shake, saw his throat swell as he swallowed hard, saw the
+hard fierceness return to his face.
+
+“I won’t. That’s why I’m going after him.”
+
+“But I forbade you to start a fight deliberately.”
+
+“Then I’ll go ahead and start one without your permission,” he replied
+shortly, and again he wheeled.
+
+This time, when Madeline caught his arm she held to it, even after he
+stopped.
+
+“No,” she said, imperiously.
+
+He shook off her hand and strode forward.
+
+“Please don’t go!” she called, beseechingly. But he kept on. “Stewart!”
+
+She ran ahead of him, intercepted him, faced him with her back against
+the door. He swept out a long arm as if to brush her aside. But it
+wavered and fell. Haggard, troubled, with working face, he stood before
+her.
+
+“It’s for your sake,” he expostulated.
+
+“If it is for my sake, then do what pleases me.”
+
+“These guerrillas will knife somebody. They’ll burn the house. They’ll
+make off with you. They’ll do something bad unless we stop them.”
+
+“Let us risk all that,” she importuned.
+
+“But it’s a terrible risk, and it oughtn’t be run,” he exclaimed,
+passionately. “I know best here. Stillwell upholds me. Let me out, Miss
+Hammond. I’m going to take the boys and go after these guerrillas.”
+
+“No!”
+
+“Good Heavens!” exclaimed Stewart. “Why not let me go? It’s the thing to
+do. I’m sorry to distress you and your guests. Why not put an end to Don
+Carlos’s badgering? Is it because you’re afraid a rumpus will spoil your
+friends’ visit?”
+
+“It isn’t—not this time.”
+
+“Then it’s the idea of a little shooting at these Greasers?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“You’re sick to think of a little Greaser blood staining the halls of
+your home?”
+
+“No!”
+
+“Well, then, why keep me from doing what I know is best?”
+
+“Stewart, I—I—” she faltered, in growing agitation. “I’m
+frightened—confused. All this is too—too much for me. I’m not a
+coward. If you have to fight you’ll see I’m not a coward. But your way
+seems so reckless—that hall is so dark—the guerrillas would shoot from
+behind doors. You’re so wild, so daring, you’d rush right into peril.
+Is that necessary? I think—I mean—I don’t know just why I feel so—so
+about you doing it. But I believe it’s because I’m afraid you—you might
+be hurt.”
+
+“You’re afraid I—I might be hurt?” he echoed, wonderingly, the hard
+whiteness of his face warming, flushing, glowing.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+The single word, with all it might mean, with all it might not mean,
+softened him as if by magic, made him gentle, amazed, shy as a boy,
+stifling under a torrent of emotions.
+
+Madeline thought she had persuaded him—worked her will with him. Then
+another of his startlingly sudden moves told her that she had reckoned
+too quickly. This move was to put her firmly aside so he could pass;
+and Madeline, seeing he would not hesitate to lift her out of the way,
+surrendered the door. He turned on the threshold. His face was still
+working, but the flame-pointed gleam of his eyes indicated the return of
+that cowboy ruthlessness.
+
+“I’m going to drive Don Carlos and his gang out of the house,” declared
+Stewart. “I think I may promise you to do it without a fight. But if it
+takes a fight, off he goes!”
+
+
+
+
+XV. The Mountain Trail
+
+
+As Stewart departed from one door Florence knocked upon another; and
+Madeline, far shaken out of her usual serenity, admitted the cool
+Western girl with more than gladness. Just to have her near helped
+Madeline to get back her balance. She was conscious of Florence’s sharp
+scrutiny, then of a sweet, deliberate change of manner. Florence might
+have been burning with curiosity to know more about the bandits hidden
+in the house, the plans of the cowboys, the reason for Madeline’s
+suppressed emotion; but instead of asking Madeline questions she
+introduced the important subject of what to take on the camping trip.
+For an hour they discussed the need of this and that article,
+selected those things most needful, and then packed them in Madeline’s
+duffle-bags.
+
+That done, they decided to lie down, fully dressed as they were in
+riding-costume, and sleep, or at least rest, the little remaining time
+left before the call to saddle. Madeline turned out the light and,
+peeping through her window, saw dark forms standing sentinel-like in the
+gloom. When she lay down she heard soft steps on the path. This fidelity
+to her swelled her heart, while the need of it presaged that fearful
+something which, since Stewart’s passionate appeal to her, haunted her
+as inevitable.
+
+Madeline did not expect to sleep, yet she did sleep, and it seemed to
+have been only a moment until Florence called her. She followed Florence
+outside. It was the dark hour before dawn. She could discern saddled
+horses being held by cowboys. There was an air of hurry and mystery
+about the departure. Helen, who came tip-toeing out with Madeline’s
+other guests, whispered that it was like an escape. She was delighted.
+The others were amused. To Madeline it was indeed an escape.
+
+In the darkness Madeline could not see how many escorts her party was to
+have. She heard low voices, the champing of bits and thumping of hoofs,
+and she recognized Stewart when he led up Majesty for her to mount.
+Then came a pattering of soft feet and the whining of dogs. Cold noses
+touched her hands, and she saw the long, gray, shaggy shapes of her pack
+of Russian wolf-hounds. That Stewart meant to let them go with her was
+indicative of how he studied her pleasure. She loved to be out with the
+hounds and her horse.
+
+Stewart led Majesty out into the darkness past a line of mounted horses.
+
+“Guess we’re ready?” he said. “I’ll make the count.” He went back along
+the line, and on the return Madeline heard him say several times,
+“Now, everybody ride close to the horse in front, and keep quiet till
+daylight.” Then the snorting and pounding of the big black horse in
+front of her told Madeline that Stewart had mounted.
+
+“All right, we’re off,” he called.
+
+Madeline lifted Majesty’s bridle and let the roan go. There was a crack
+and crunch of gravel, fire struck from stone, a low whinny, a snort,
+and then steady, short, clip-clop of iron hoofs on hard ground. Madeline
+could just discern Stewart and his black outlined in shadowy gray before
+her. Yet they were almost within touching distance. Once or twice one of
+the huge stag-hounds leaped up at her and whined joyously. A thick belt
+of darkness lay low, and seemed to thin out above to a gray fog, through
+which a few wan stars showed. It was altogether an unusual departure
+from the ranch; and Madeline, always susceptible even to ordinary
+incident that promised well, now found herself thrillingly sensitive to
+the soft beat of hoofs, the feel of cool, moist air, the dim sight of
+Stewart’s dark figure. The caution, the early start before dawn, the
+enforced silence—these lent the occasion all that was needful to make
+it stirring.
+
+Majesty plunged into a gully, where sand and rough going made Madeline
+stop romancing to attend to riding. In the darkness Stewart was not
+so easy to keep close to even on smooth trails, and now she had to
+be watchfully attentive to do it. Then followed a long march through
+dragging sand. Meantime the blackness gradually changed to gray. At
+length Majesty climbed out of the wash, and once more his iron shoes
+rang on stone. He began to climb. The figure of Stewart and his horse
+loomed more distinctly in Madeline’s sight. Bending over, she tried to
+see the trail, but could not. She wondered how Stewart could follow
+a trail in the dark. His eyes must be as piercing as they sometimes
+looked. Over her shoulder Madeline could not see the horse behind her,
+but she heard him.
+
+As Majesty climbed steadily Madeline saw the gray darkness grow opaque,
+change and lighten, lose its substance, and yield the grotesque shapes
+of yucca and ocotillo. Dawn was about to break. Madeline imagined she
+was facing east, still she saw no brightening of sky. All at once, to
+her surprise, Stewart and his powerful horse stood clear in her sight.
+She saw the characteristic rock and cactus and brush that covered the
+foothills. The trail was old and seldom used, and it zigzagged and
+turned and twisted. Looking back, she saw the short, squat figure of
+Monty Price humped over his saddle. Monty’s face was hidden under his
+sombrero. Behind him rode Dorothy Coombs, and next loomed up the lofty
+form of Nick Steele. Madeline and the members of her party were riding
+between cowboy escorts.
+
+Bright daylight came, and Madeline saw the trail was leading up through
+foothills. It led in a round-about way through shallow gullies full
+of stone and brush washed down by floods. At every turn now Madeline
+expected to come upon water and the waiting pack-train. But time passed,
+and miles of climbing, and no water or horses were met. Expectation in
+Madeline gave place to desire; she was hungry.
+
+Presently Stewart’s horse went splashing into a shallow pool. Beyond
+that damp places in the sand showed here and there, and again more water
+in rocky pockets. Stewart kept on. It was eight o’clock by Madeline’s
+watch when, upon turning into a wide hollow, she saw horses grazing on
+spare grass, a great pile of canvas-covered bundles, and a fire round
+which cowboys and two Mexican women were busy.
+
+Madeline sat her horse and reviewed her followers as they rode up single
+file. Her guests were in merry mood, and they all talked at once.
+
+“Breakfast—and rustle,” called out Stewart, without ceremony.
+
+“No need to tell me to rustle,” said Helen. “I am simply ravenous. This
+air makes me hungry.”
+
+For that matter, Madeline observed Helen did not show any marked
+contrast to the others. The hurry order, however, did not interfere with
+the meal being somewhat in the nature of a picnic. While they ate
+and talked and laughed the cowboys were packing horses and burros and
+throwing the diamond-hitch, a procedure so interesting to Castleton that
+he got up with coffee-cup in hand and tramped from one place to another.
+
+“Heard of that diamond-hitch-up,” he observed to a cowboy. “Bally nice
+little job!”
+
+As soon as the pack-train was in readiness Stewart started it off in the
+lead to break trail. A heavy growth of shrub interspersed with rock and
+cactus covered the slopes; and now all the trail appeared to be uphill.
+It was not a question of comfort for Madeline and her party, for comfort
+was impossible; it was a matter of making the travel possible for him.
+Florence wore corduroy breeches and high-top boots, and the advantage
+of this masculine garb was at once in evidence. The riding-habits of the
+other ladies suffered considerably from the sharp spikes. It took all
+Madeline’s watchfulness to save her horse’s legs, to pick the best bits
+of open ground, to make cut-offs from the trail, and to protect herself
+from outreaching thorny branches, so that the time sped by without her
+knowing it. The pack-train forged ahead, and the trailing couples grew
+farther apart. At noon they got out of the foothills to face the real
+ascent of the mountains. The sun beat down hot. There was little breeze,
+and the dust rose thick and hung in a pall. The view was restricted, and
+what scenery lay open to the eye was dreary and drab, a barren monotony
+of slow-mounting slopes ridged by rocky canyons.
+
+Once Stewart waited for Madeline, and as she came up he said:
+
+“We’re going to have a storm.”
+
+“That will be a relief. It’s so hot and dusty,” replied Madeline.
+
+“Shall I call a halt and make camp?”
+
+“Here? Oh no! What do you think best?”
+
+“Well, if we have a good healthy thunder-storm it will be something new
+for your friends. I think we’d be wise to keep on the go. There’s no
+place to make a good camp. The wind would blow us off this slope if
+the rain didn’t wash us off. It’ll take all-day travel to reach a good
+camp-site, and I don’t promise that. We’re making slow time. If it
+rains, let it rain. The pack outfit is well covered. We will have to get
+wet.”
+
+“Surely,” replied Madeline; and she smiled at his inference. She knew
+what a storm was in that country, and her guests had yet to experience
+one. “If it rains, let it rain.”
+
+Stewart rode on, and Madeline followed. Up the slope toiled and nodded
+the pack-animals, the little burros going easily where the horses
+labored. Their packs, like the humps of camels, bobbed from side to
+side. Stones rattled down; the heat-waves wavered black; the dust puffed
+up and sailed. The sky was a pale blue, like heated steel, except where
+dark clouds peeped over the mountain crests. A heavy, sultry atmosphere
+made breathing difficult. Down the slope the trailing party stretched
+out in twos and threes, and it was easy to distinguish the weary riders.
+
+Half a mile farther up Madeline could see over the foothills to the
+north and west and a little south, and she forgot the heat and
+weariness and discomfort for her guests in wide, unlimited prospects of
+sun-scorched earth. She marked the gray valley and the black mountains
+and the wide, red gateway of the desert, and the dim, shadowy peaks,
+blue as the sky they pierced. She was sorry when the bleak, gnarled
+cedar-trees shut off her view.
+
+Then there came a respite from the steep climb, and the way led in a
+winding course through a matted, storm-wrenched forest of stunted trees.
+Even up to this elevation the desert reached with its gaunt hand. The
+clouds overspreading the sky, hiding the sun, made a welcome change. The
+pack-train rested, and Stewart and Madeline waited for the party to come
+up. Here he briefly explained to her that Don Carlos and his bandits had
+left the ranch some time in the night. Thunder rumbled in the distance,
+and a faint wind rustled the scant foliage of the cedars. The air grew
+oppressive; the horses panted.
+
+“Sure it’ll be a hummer,” said Stewart. “The first storm almost always
+is bad. I can feel it in the air.”
+
+The air, indeed, seemed to be charged with a heavy force that was
+waiting to be liberated.
+
+One by one the couples mounted to the cedar forest, and the feminine
+contingent declaimed eloquently for rest. But there was to be no
+permanent rest until night and then that depended upon reaching the
+crags. The pack-train wagged onward, and Stewart fell in behind. The
+storm-center gathered slowly around the peaks; low rumble and howl of
+thunder increased in frequence; slowly the light shaded as smoky clouds
+rolled up; the air grew sultrier, and the exasperating breeze puffed a
+few times and then failed.
+
+An hour later the party had climbed high and was rounding the side of a
+great bare ridge that long had hidden the crags. The last burro of the
+pack-train plodded over the ridge out of Madeline’s sight. She looked
+backward down the slope, amused to see her guests change wearily from
+side to side in their saddles. Far below lay the cedar flat and the
+foothills. Far to the west the sky was still clear, with shafts of
+sunlight shooting down from behind the encroaching clouds.
+
+Stewart reached the summit of the ridge and, though only a few rods
+ahead, he waved to her, sweeping his hand round to what he saw beyond.
+It was an impressive gesture, and Madeline, never having climbed as high
+as this, anticipated much.
+
+Majesty surmounted the last few steps and, snorting, halted beside
+Stewart’s black. To Madeline the scene was as if the world had changed.
+The ridge was a mountain-top. It dropped before her into a black,
+stone-ridged, shrub-patched, many-canyoned gulf. Eastward, beyond the
+gulf, round, bare mountain-heads loomed up. Upward, on the right, led
+giant steps of cliff and bench and weathered slope to the fir-bordered
+and pine-fringed crags standing dark and bare against the stormy sky.
+Massed inky clouds were piling across the peaks, obscuring the highest
+ones. A fork of white lightning flashed, and, like the booming of an
+avalanche, thunder followed.
+
+That bold world of broken rock under the slow mustering of storm-clouds
+was a grim, awe-inspiring spectacle. It had beauty, but beauty of the
+sublime and majestic kind. The fierce desert had reached up to meet the
+magnetic heights where heat and wind and frost and lightning and flood
+contended in everlasting strife. And before their onslaught this mighty
+upflung world of rugged stone was crumbling, splitting, wearing to ruin.
+
+Madeline glanced at Stewart. He had forgotten her presence. Immovable
+as stone, he sat his horse, dark-faced, dark-eyed, and, like an Indian
+unconscious of thought, he watched and watched. To see him thus,
+to divine the strange affinity between the soul of this man, become
+primitive, and the savage environment that had developed him, were
+powerful helps to Madeline Hammond in her strange desire to understand
+his nature.
+
+A cracking of iron-shod hoofs behind her broke the spell. Monty had
+reached the summit.
+
+“Gene, what it won’t all be doin’ in a minnut Moses hisself couldn’t
+tell,” observed Monty.
+
+Then Dorothy climbed to his side and looked.
+
+“Oh, isn’t it just perfectly lovely!” she exclaimed. “But I wish it
+wouldn’t storm. We’ll all get wet.”
+
+Once more Stewart faced the ascent, keeping to the slow heave of the
+ridge as it rose southward toward the looming spires of rock. Soon he
+was off smooth ground, and Madeline, some rods behind him, looked back
+with concern at her friends. Here the real toil, the real climb began,
+and a mountain storm was about to burst in all its fury.
+
+The slope that Stewart entered upon was a magnificent monument to the
+ruined crags above. It was a southerly slope, and therefore semi-arid,
+covered with cercocarpus and yucca and some shrub that Madeline believed
+was manzanita. Every foot of the trail seemed to slide under Majesty.
+What hard ground there was could not be traveled upon, owing to the
+spiny covering or masses of shattered rocks. Gullies lined the slope.
+
+Then the sky grew blacker; the slow-gathering clouds appeared to be
+suddenly agitated; they piled and rolled and mushroomed and obscured
+the crags. The air moved heavily and seemed to be laden with sulphurous
+smoke, and sharp lightning flashes began to play. A distant roar of wind
+could be heard between the peals of thunder.
+
+Stewart waited for Madeline under the lee of a shelving cliff, where the
+cowboys had halted the pack-train. Majesty was sensitive to the flashes
+of lightning. Madeline patted his neck and softly called to him. The
+weary burros nodded; the Mexican women covered their heads with their
+mantles. Stewart untied the slicker at the back of Madeline’s saddle
+and helped her on with it. Then he put on his own. The other cowboys
+followed suit. Presently Madeline saw Monty and Dorothy rounding the
+cliff, and hoped the others would come soon.
+
+A blue-white, knotted rope of lightning burned down out of the clouds,
+and instantly a thunder-clap crashed, seeming to shake the foundations
+of the earth. Then it rolled, as if banging from cloud to cloud, and
+boomed along the peaks, and reverberated from deep to low, at last to
+rumble away into silence. Madeline felt the electricity in Majesty’s
+mane, and it seemed to tingle through her nerves. The air had a weird,
+bright cast. The ponderous clouds swallowed more and more of the eastern
+domes. This moment of the breaking of the storm, with the strange
+growing roar of wind, like a moaning monster, was pregnant with a
+heart-disturbing emotion for Madeline Hammond. Glorious it was to be
+free, healthy, out in the open, under the shadow of the mountain and
+cloud, in the teeth of the wind and rain and storm.
+
+Another dazzling blue blaze showed the bold mountain-side and the
+storm-driven clouds. In the flare of light Madeline saw Stewart’s face.
+
+“Are you afraid?” she asked.
+
+“Yes,” he replied, simply.
+
+Then the thunderbolt racked the heavens, and as it boomed away in
+lessening power Madeline reflected with surprise upon Stewart’s answer.
+Something in his face had made her ask him what she considered a foolish
+question. His reply amazed her. She loved a storm. Why should he fear
+it—he, with whom she could not associate fear?
+
+“How strange! Have you not been out in many storms?”
+
+A smile that was only a gleam flitted over his dark face.
+
+“In hundreds of them. By day, with the cattle stampeding. At night,
+alone on the mountain, with the pines crashing and the rocks rolling—in
+flood on the desert.”
+
+“It’s not only the lightning, then?” she asked.
+
+“No. All the storm.”
+
+Madeline felt that henceforth she would have less faith in what she had
+imagined was her love of the elements. What little she knew! If this
+iron-nerved man feared a storm, then there was something about a storm
+to fear.
+
+And suddenly, as the ground quaked under her horse’s feet, and all
+the sky grew black and crisscrossed by flaming streaks, and between
+thunderous reports there was a strange hollow roar sweeping down upon
+her, she realized how small was her knowledge and experience of the
+mighty forces of nature. Then, with that perversity of character of
+which she was wholly conscious, she was humble, submissive, reverent,
+and fearful even while she gloried in the grandeur of the dark,
+cloud-shadowed crags and canyons, the stupendous strife of sound, the
+wonderful driving lances of white fire.
+
+With blacker gloom and deafening roar came the torrent of rain. It was
+a cloud-burst. It was like solid water tumbling down. For long Madeline
+sat her horse, head bent to the pelting rain. When its force lessened
+and she heard Stewart call for all to follow, she looked up to see that
+he was starting once more. She shot a glimpse at Dorothy and as quickly
+glanced away. Dorothy, who would not wear a hat suitable for inclement
+weather, nor one of the horrid yellow, sticky slickers, was a drenched
+and disheveled spectacle. Madeline did not trust herself to look at the
+other girls. It was enough to hear their lament. So she turned her horse
+into Stewart’s trail.
+
+Rain fell steadily. The fury of the storm, however, had passed, and the
+roll of thunder diminished in volume. The air had wonderfully cleared
+and was growing cool. Madeline began to feel uncomfortably cold and wet.
+Stewart was climbing faster than formerly, and she noted that Monty kept
+at her heels, pressing her on. Time had been lost, and the camp-site was
+a long way off. The stag-hounds began to lag and get footsore. The sharp
+rocks of the trail were cruel to their feet. Then, as Madeline began to
+tire, she noticed less and less around her. The ascent grew rougher and
+steeper—slow toil for panting horses. The thinning rain grew colder,
+and sometimes a stronger whip of wind lashed stingingly in Madeline’s
+face. Her horse climbed and climbed, and brush and sharp corners of
+stone everlastingly pulled and tore at her wet garments. A gray gloom
+settled down around her. Night was approaching. Majesty heaved upward
+with a snort, the wet saddle creaked, and an even motion told Madeline
+she was on level ground. She looked up to see looming crags and spires,
+like huge pipe-organs, dark at the base and growing light upward.
+The rain had ceased, but the branches of fir-trees and juniper were
+water-soaked arms reaching out for her. Through an opening between crags
+Madeline caught a momentary glimpse of the west. Red sun-shafts shone
+through the murky, broken clouds. The sun had set.
+
+Stewart’s horse was on a jog-trot now, and Madeline left the trail more
+to Majesty than to her own choosing. The shadows deepened, and the crags
+grew gloomy and spectral. A cool wind moaned through the dark trees.
+Coyotes, scenting the hounds, kept apace of them, and barked and howled
+off in the gloom. But the tired hounds did not appear to notice.
+
+As black night began to envelop her surroundings, Madeline marked that
+the fir-trees had given place to pine forest. Suddenly a pin-point of
+light pierced the ebony blackness. Like a solitary star in dark sky
+it twinkled and blinked. She lost sight of it—found it again. It grew
+larger. Black tree-trunks crossed her line of vision. The light was a
+fire. She heard a cowboy song and the wild chorus of a pack of coyotes.
+Drops of rain on the branches of trees glittered in the rays of the
+fire. Stewart’s tall figure, with sombrero slouched down, was now and
+then outlined against a growing circle of light. And by the aid of that
+light she saw him turn every moment or so to look back, probably to
+assure himself that she was close behind.
+
+With a prospect of fire and warmth, and food and rest, Madeline’s
+enthusiasm revived. What a climb! There was promise in this wild ride
+and lonely trail and hidden craggy height, not only in the adventure her
+friends yearned for, but in some nameless joy and spirit for herself.
+
+
+
+
+XVI. The Crags
+
+
+Glad indeed was Madeline to be lifted off her horse beside a roaring
+fire—to see steaming pots upon red-hot coals. Except about her
+shoulders, which had been protected by the slicker, she was wringing
+wet. The Mexican women came quickly to help her change in a tent near
+by; but Madeline preferred for the moment to warm her numb feet and
+hands and to watch the spectacle of her arriving friends.
+
+Dorothy plumped off her saddle into the arms of several waiting cowboys.
+She could scarcely walk. Far removed in appearance was she from her
+usual stylish self. Her face was hidden by a limp and lopsided hat.
+From under the disheveled brim came a plaintive moan: “O-h-h! what a-an
+a-awful ride!” Mrs. Beck was in worse condition; she had to be taken
+off her horse. “I’m paralyzed—I’m a wreck. Bobby, get a roller-chair.”
+ Bobby was solicitous and willing, but there were no roller-chairs.
+Florence dismounted easily, and but for her mass of hair, wet and
+tumbling, would have been taken for a handsome cowboy. Edith Wayne had
+stood the physical strain of the ride better than Dorothy; however, as
+her mount was rather small, she had been more at the mercy of cactus
+and brush. Her habit hung in tatters. Helen had preserved a remnant of
+style, as well as of pride, and perhaps a little strength. But her face
+was white, her eyes were big, and she limped. “Majesty!” she exclaimed.
+“What did you want to do to us? Kill us outright or make us homesick?”
+ Of all of them, however, Ambrose’s wife, Christine, the little French
+maid, had suffered the most in that long ride. She was unaccustomed to
+horses. Ambrose had to carry her into the big tent. Florence persuaded
+Madeline to leave the fire, and when they went in with the others
+Dorothy was wailing because her wet boots would not come off, Mrs.
+Beck was weeping and trying to direct a Mexican woman to unfasten her
+bedraggled dress, and there was general pandemonium.
+
+“Warm clothes—hot drinks and grub—warm blankets,” rang out Stewart’s
+sharp order.
+
+Then, with Florence helping the Mexican women, it was not long until
+Madeline and the feminine side of the party were comfortable, except for
+the weariness and aches that only rest and sleep could alleviate.
+
+Neither fatigue nor pains, however, nor the strangeness of being packed
+sardine-like under canvas, nor the howls of coyotes, kept Madeline’s
+guests from stretching out with long, grateful sighs, and one by one
+dropping into deep slumber. Madeline whispered a little to Florence,
+and laughed with her once or twice, and then the light flickering on the
+canvas faded and her eyelids closed. Darkness and roar of camp life,
+low voices of men, thump of horses’ hoofs, coyote serenade, the sense of
+warmth and sweet rest—all drifted away.
+
+          *****
+
+When she awakened shadows of swaying branches moved on the sunlit canvas
+above her. She heard the ringing strokes of an ax, but no other sound
+from outside. Slow, regular breathing attested to the deep slumbers of
+her tent comrades. She observed presently that Florence was missing from
+the number. Madeline rose and peeped out between the flaps.
+
+An exquisitely beautiful scene surprised and enthralled her gaze. She
+saw a level space, green with long grass, bright with flowers, dotted
+with groves of graceful firs and pines and spruces, reaching to superb
+crags, rosy and golden in the sunlight. Eager to get out where she could
+enjoy an unrestricted view, she searched for her pack, found it in a
+corner, and then hurriedly and quietly dressed.
+
+Her favorite stag-hounds, Russ and Tartar, were asleep before the
+door, where they had been chained. She awakened them and loosened them,
+thinking the while that it must have been Stewart who had chained
+them near her. Close at hand also was a cowboy’s bed rolled up in a
+tarpaulin.
+
+The cool air, fragrant with pine and spruce and some subtle nameless
+tang, sweet and tonic, made Madeline stand erect and breathe slowly
+and deeply. It was like drinking of a magic draught. She felt it in
+her blood, that it quickened its flow. Turning to look in the other
+direction, beyond the tent, she saw the remnants of last night’s
+temporary camp, and farther on a grove of beautiful pines from which
+came the sharp ring of the ax. Wider gaze took in a wonderful park, not
+only surrounded by lofty crags, but full of crags of lesser height, many
+lifting their heads from dark-green groves of trees. The morning sun,
+not yet above the eastern elevations, sent its rosy and golden shafts in
+between the towering rocks, to tip the pines.
+
+Madeline, with the hounds beside her, walked through the nearest grove.
+The ground was soft and springy and brown with pine-needles. Then
+she saw that a clump of trees had prevented her from seeing the most
+striking part of this natural park. The cowboys had selected a campsite
+where they would have the morning sun and afternoon shade. Several
+tents and flies were already up; there was a huge lean-to made of spruce
+boughs; cowboys were busy round several camp-fires; piles of packs lay
+covered with tarpaulins, and beds were rolled up under the trees. This
+space was a kind of rolling meadow, with isolated trees here and there,
+and other trees in aisles and circles; and it mounted up in low, grassy
+banks to great towers of stone five hundred feet high. Other crags rose
+behind these. From under a mossy cliff, huge and green and cool, bubbled
+a full, clear spring. Wild flowers fringed its banks. Out in the meadow
+the horses were knee-deep in grass that waved in the morning breeze.
+
+Florence espied Madeline under the trees and came running. She was like
+a young girl, with life and color and joy. She wore a flannel blouse,
+corduroy skirt, and moccasins. And her hair was fastened under a band
+like an Indian’s.
+
+“Castleton’s gone with a gun, for hours, it seems,” said Florence.
+“Gene just went to hunt him up. The other gentlemen are still asleep. I
+imagine they sure will sleep up heah in this air.”
+
+Then, business-like, Florence fell to questioning Madeline about details
+of camp arrangement which Stewart, and Florence herself, could hardly
+see to without suggestion.
+
+Before any of Madeline’s sleepy guests awakened the camp was completed.
+Madeline and Florence had a tent under a pine-tree, but they did not
+intend to sleep in it except during stormy weather. They spread a
+tarpaulin, made their bed on it, and elected to sleep under the light
+of the stars. After that, taking the hounds with them, they explored. To
+Madeline’s surprise, the park was not a little half-mile nook nestling
+among the crags, but extended farther than they cared to walk, and was
+rather a series of parks. They were no more than small valleys between
+gray-toothed peaks. As the day advanced the charm of the place grew upon
+Madeline. Even at noon, with the sun beating down, there was comfortable
+warmth rather than heat. It was the kind of warmth that Madeline liked
+to feel in the spring. And the sweet, thin, rare atmosphere began
+to affect her strangely. She breathed deeply of it until she felt
+light-headed, as if her body lacked substance and might drift away
+like a thistledown. All at once she grew uncomfortably sleepy. A dreamy
+languor possessed her, and, lying under a pine with her head against
+Florence, she went to sleep. When she opened her eyes the shadows of
+the crags stretched from the west, and between them streamed a red-gold
+light. It was hazy, smoky sunshine losing its fire. The afternoon had
+far advanced. Madeline sat up. Florence was lazily reading. The two
+Mexican women were at work under the fly where the big stone fireplace
+had been erected. No one else was in sight.
+
+Florence, upon being questioned, informed Madeline that incident about
+camp had been delightfully absent. Castleton had returned and was
+profoundly sleeping with the other men. Presently a chorus of merry
+calls attracted Madeline’s attention, and she turned to see Helen
+limping along with Dorothy, and Mrs. Beck and Edith supporting each
+other. They were all rested, but lame, and delighted with the place, and
+as hungry as bears awakened from a winter’s sleep. Madeline forthwith
+escorted them round the camp, and through the many aisles between the
+trees, and to the mossy, pine-matted nooks under the crags.
+
+Then they had dinner, sitting on the ground after the manner of Indians;
+and it was a dinner that lacked merriment only because everybody was too
+busily appeasing appetite.
+
+Later Stewart led them across a neck of the park, up a rather steep
+climb between towering crags, to take them out upon a grassy promontory
+that faced the great open west—a vast, ridged, streaked, and reddened
+sweep of earth rolling down, as it seemed, to the golden sunset end of
+the world. Castleton said it was a jolly fine view; Dorothy voiced her
+usual languid enthusiasm; Helen was on fire with pleasure and wonder;
+Mrs. Beck appealed to Bobby to see how he liked it before she ventured,
+and she then reiterated his praise; and Edith Wayne, like Madeline and
+Florence, was silent. Boyd was politely interested; he was the kind of
+man who appeared to care for things as other people cared for them.
+
+Madeline watched the slow transformation of the changing west, with its
+haze of desert dust, through which mountain and cloud and sun slowly
+darkened. She watched until her eyes ached, and scarcely had a thought
+of what she was watching. When her eyes shifted to encounter the tall
+form of Stewart standing motionless on the rim, her mind became active
+again. As usual, he stood apart from the others, and now he seemed aloof
+and unconscious. He made a dark, powerful figure, and he fitted that
+wild promontory.
+
+She experienced a strange, annoying surprise when she discovered both
+Helen and Dorothy watching Stewart with peculiar interest. Edith, too,
+was alive to the splendid picture the cowboy made. But when Edith smiled
+and whispered in her ear, “It’s so good to look at a man like that,”
+ Madeline again felt the surprise, only this time the accompaniment was a
+vague pleasure rather than annoyance. Helen and Dorothy were flirts, one
+deliberate and skilled, the other unconscious and natural. Edith
+Wayne, occasionally—and Madeline reflected that the occasions were
+infrequent—admired a man sincerely. Just here Madeline might have
+fallen into a somewhat revealing state of mind if it had not been for
+the fact that she believed Stewart was only an object of deep interest
+to her, not as a man, but as a part of this wild and wonderful West
+which was claiming her. So she did not inquire of herself why Helen’s
+coquetry and Dorothy’s languishing allurement annoyed her, or why
+Edith’s eloquent smile and words had pleased her. She got as far,
+however, as to think scornfully how Helen and Dorothy would welcome and
+meet a flirtation with this cowboy and then go back home and forget him
+as utterly as if he had never existed. She wondered, too, with a curious
+twist of feeling that was almost eagerness, how the cowboy would meet
+their advances. Obviously the situation was unfair to him; and if by
+some strange accident he escaped unscathed by Dorothy’s beautiful eyes
+he would never be able to withstand Helen’s subtle and fascinating and
+imperious personality.
+
+They returned to camp in the cool of the evening and made merry round
+a blazing camp-fire. But Madeline’s guests soon succumbed to the
+persistent and irresistible desire to sleep.
+
+Then Madeline went to bed with Florence under the pine-tree. Russ lay
+upon one side and Tartar upon the other. The cool night breeze swept
+over her, fanning her face, waving her hair. It was not strong enough
+to make any sound through the branches, but it stirred a faint, silken
+rustle in the long grass. The coyotes began their weird bark and howl.
+Russ raised his head to growl at their impudence.
+
+Madeline faced upward, and it seemed to her that under those wonderful
+white stars she would never be able to go to sleep. They blinked down
+through the black-barred, delicate crisscross of pine foliage, and they
+looked so big and so close. Then she gazed away to open space, where an
+expanse of sky glittered with stars, and the longer she gazed the larger
+they grew and the more she saw.
+
+It was her belief that she had come to love all the physical things
+from which sensations of beauty and mystery and strength poured into her
+responsive mind; but best of all she loved these Western stars, for they
+were to have something to do with her life, were somehow to influence
+her destiny.
+
+          *****
+
+For a few days the prevailing features of camp life for Madeline’s
+guests were sleep and rest. Dorothy Coombs slept through twenty-four
+hours, and then was so difficult to awaken that for a while her friends
+were alarmed. Helen almost fell asleep while eating and talking. The
+men were more visibly affected by the mountain air than the women.
+Castleton, however, would not succumb to the strange drowsiness while he
+had a chance to prowl around with a gun.
+
+This languorous spell disappeared presently, and then the days were full
+of life and action. Mrs. Beck and Bobby and Boyd, however, did not go in
+for anything very strenuous. Edith Wayne, too, preferred to walk through
+the groves or sit upon the grassy promontory. It was Helen and Dorothy
+who wanted to explore the crags and canyons, and when they could not get
+the others to accompany them they went alone, giving the cowboy guides
+many a long climb.
+
+Necessarily, of course, Madeline and her guests were now thrown much in
+company with the cowboys. And the party grew to be like one big family.
+Her friends not only adapted themselves admirably to the situation, but
+came to revel in it. As for Madeline, she saw that outside of a certain
+proclivity of the cowboys to be gallant and on dress-parade and alive
+to possibilities of fun and excitement, they were not greatly different
+from what they were at all times. If there were a leveling process here
+it was made by her friends coming down to meet the Westerners. Besides,
+any class of people would tend to grow natural in such circumstances and
+environment.
+
+Madeline found the situation one of keen and double interest for her.
+If before she had cared to study her cowboys, particularly Stewart, now,
+with the contrasts afforded by her guests, she felt by turns she was
+amused and mystified and perplexed and saddened, and then again subtly
+pleased.
+
+Monty, once he had overcome his shyness, became a source of delight
+to Madeline, and, for that matter, to everybody. Monty had suddenly
+discovered that he was a success among the ladies. Either he was exalted
+to heroic heights by this knowledge or he made it appear so. Dorothy had
+been his undoing, and in justice to her Madeline believed her innocent.
+Dorothy thought Monty hideous to look at, and, accordingly, if he had
+been a hero a hundred times and had saved a hundred poor little babies’
+lives, he could not have interested her. Monty followed her around,
+reminding her, she told Madeline, of a little adoring dog one moment and
+the next of a huge, devouring gorilla.
+
+Nels and Nick stalked at Helen’s heels like grenadiers on duty, and if
+she as much as dropped her glove they almost came to blows to see who
+should pick it up.
+
+In a way Castleton was the best feature of the camping party. He was
+such an absurd-looking little man, and his abilities were at such
+tremendous odds with what might have been expected of him from his
+looks. He could ride, tramp, climb, shoot. He liked to help around the
+camp, and the cowboys could not keep him from it. He had an insatiable
+desire to do things that were new to him. The cowboys played innumerable
+tricks upon him, not one of which he ever discovered. He was
+serious, slow in speech and action, and absolutely imperturbable.
+If imperturbability could ever be good humor, then he was always
+good-humored. Presently the cowboys began to understand him, and then
+to like him. When they liked a man it meant something. Madeline had been
+sorry more than once to see how little the cowboys chose to speak to
+Boyd Harvey. With Castleton, however, they actually became friends. They
+did not know it, and certainly such a thing never occurred to him; all
+the same, it was a fact. And it grew solely out of the truth that the
+Englishman was manly in the only way cowboys could have interpreted
+manliness. When, after innumerable attempts, he succeeded in throwing
+the diamond-hitch on a pack-horse the cowboys began to respect him.
+Castleton needed only one more accomplishment to claim their hearts, and
+he kept trying that—to ride a bucking bronco. One of the cowboys had
+a bronco that they called Devil. Every day for a week Devil threw the
+Englishman all over the park, ruined his clothes, bruised him, and
+finally kicked him. Then the cowboys solicitously tried to make
+Castleton give up; and this was remarkable enough, for the spectacle
+of an English lord on a bucking bronco was one that any Westerner would
+have ridden a thousand miles to see. Whenever Devil threw Castleton the
+cowboys went into spasms. But Castleton did not know the meaning of the
+word fail, and there came a day when Devil could not throw him. Then it
+was a singular sight to see the men line up to shake hands with the
+cool Englishman. Even Stewart, who had watched from the background, came
+forward with a warm and pleasant smile on his dark face. When Castleton
+went to his tent there was much characteristic cowboy talk, and this
+time vastly different from the former persiflage.
+
+“By Gawd!” ejaculated Monty Price, who seemed to be the most amazed and
+elated of them all. “Thet’s the fust Englishman I ever seen! He’s orful
+deceivin’ to look at, but I know now why England rules the wurrld. Jest
+take a peek at thet bronco. His spirit is broke. Rid by a leetle English
+dook no bigger ’n a grasshopper! Fellers, if it hain’t dawned on you
+yit, let Monty Price give you a hunch. There’s no flies on Castleton.
+An’ I’ll bet a million steers to a rawhide rope thet next he’ll be
+throwin’ a gun as good as Nels.”
+
+It was a distinct pleasure for Madeline to realize that she liked
+Castleton all the better for the traits brought out so forcibly by his
+association with the cowboys. On the other hand, she liked the cowboys
+better for something in them that contact with Easterners brought out.
+This was especially true in Stewart’s case. She had been wholly wrong
+when she had imagined he would fall an easy victim to Dorothy’s eyes and
+Helen’s lures. He was kind, helpful, courteous, and watchful. But he
+had no sentiment. He did not see Dorothy’s charms or feel Helen’s
+fascination. And their efforts to captivate him were now so obvious that
+Mrs. Beck taunted them, and Edith smiled knowingly, and Bobby and Boyd
+made playful remarks. All of which cut Helen’s pride and hurt Dorothy’s
+vanity. They essayed open conquest of Stewart.
+
+So it came about that Madeline unconsciously admitted the cowboy to a
+place in her mind never occupied by any other. The instant it occurred
+to her why he was proof against the wiles of the other women she drove
+that amazing and strangely disturbing thought from her. Nevertheless,
+as she was human, she could not help thinking and being pleased and
+enjoying a little the discomfiture of the two coquettes.
+
+Moreover, from this thought of Stewart, and the watchfulness growing out
+of it she discovered more about him. He was not happy; he often paced
+up and down the grove at night; he absented himself from camp sometimes
+during the afternoon when Nels and Nick and Monty were there; he was
+always watching the trails, as if he expected to see some one come
+riding up. He alone of the cowboys did not indulge in the fun and talk
+around the camp-fire. He remained preoccupied and sad, and was always
+looking away into distance. Madeline had a strange sense of his
+guardianship over her; and, remembering Don Carlos, she imagined he
+worried a good deal over his charge, and, indeed, over the safety of all
+the party.
+
+But if he did worry about possible visits from wandering guerrillas, why
+did he absent himself from camp? Suddenly into Madeline’s inquisitive
+mind flashed a remembrance of the dark-eyed Mexican girl, Bonita, who
+had never been heard of since that night she rode Stewart’s big horse
+out of El Cajon. The remembrance of her brought an idea. Perhaps Stewart
+had a rendezvous in the mountains, and these lonely trips of his were to
+meet Bonita. With the idea hot blood flamed into Madeline’s cheek.
+Then she was amazed at her own feelings—amazed because her swiftest
+succeeding thought was to deny the idea—amazed that its conception had
+fired her cheek with shame. Then her old self, the one aloof from this
+red-blooded new self, gained control over her emotions.
+
+But Madeline found that new-born self a creature of strange power to
+return and govern at any moment. She found it fighting loyally for what
+intelligence and wisdom told her was only her romantic conception of
+a cowboy. She reasoned: If Stewart were the kind of man her feminine
+skepticism wanted to make him, he would not have been so blind to the
+coquettish advances of Helen and Dorothy. He had once been—she did not
+want to recall what he had once been. But he had been uplifted. Madeline
+Hammond declared that. She was swayed by a strong, beating pride, and
+her instinctive woman’s faith told her that he could not stoop to such
+dishonor. She reproached herself for having momentarily thought of it.
+
+          *****
+
+One afternoon a huge storm-cloud swooped out of the sky and enveloped
+the crags. It obscured the westering sun and laid a mantle of darkness
+over the park. Madeline was uneasy because several of her party,
+including Helen and Dorothy, had ridden off with the cowboys that
+afternoon and had not returned. Florence assured her that even if
+they did not get back before the storm broke there was no reason for
+apprehension. Nevertheless, Madeline sent for Stewart and asked him to
+go or send some one in search of them.
+
+Perhaps half an hour later Madeline heard the welcome pattering of hoofs
+on the trail. The big tent was brightly lighted by several lanterns.
+Edith and Florence were with her. It was so black outside that Madeline
+could not see a rod before her face. The wind was moaning in the trees,
+and big drops of rain were pelting upon the canvas.
+
+Presently, just outside the door, the horses halted, and there was a
+sharp bustle of sound, such as would naturally result from a hurried
+dismounting and confusion in the dark. Mrs. Beck came running into the
+tent out of breath and radiant because they had beaten the storm. Helen
+entered next, and a little later came Dorothy, but long enough to make
+her entrance more noticeable. The instant Madeline saw Dorothy’s blazing
+eyes she knew something unusual had happened. Whatever it was might have
+escaped comment had not Helen caught sight of Dorothy.
+
+“Heavens, Dot, but you’re handsome occasionally!” remarked Helen. “When
+you get some life in your face and eyes!”
+
+Dorothy turned her face away from the others, and perhaps it was only
+accident that she looked into a mirror hanging on the tent wall. Swiftly
+she put her hand up to feel a wide red welt on her cheek. Dorothy had
+been assiduously careful of her soft, white skin, and here was an ugly
+mark marring its beauty.
+
+“Look at that!” she cried, in distress. “My complexion’s ruined!”
+
+“How did you get such a splotch?” inquired Helen, going closer.
+
+“I’ve been kissed!” exclaimed Dorothy, dramatically.
+
+“What?” queried Helen, more curiously, while the others laughed.
+
+“I’ve been kissed—hugged and kissed by one of those shameless cowboys!
+It was so pitch-dark outside I couldn’t see a thing. And so noisy I
+couldn’t hear. But somebody was trying to help me off my horse. My foot
+caught in the stirrup, and away I went—right into somebody’s arms. Then
+he did it, the wretch! He hugged and kissed me in a most awful bearish
+manner. I couldn’t budge a finger. I’m simply boiling with rage!”
+
+When the outburst of mirth subsided Dorothy turned her big, dilated eyes
+upon Florence.
+
+“Do these cowboys really take advantage of a girl when she’s helpless
+and in the dark?”
+
+“Of course they do,” replied Florence, with her frank smile.
+
+“Dot, what in the world could you expect?” asked Helen. “Haven’t you
+been dying to be kissed?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Well, you acted like it, then. I never before saw you in a rage over
+being kissed.”
+
+“I—I wouldn’t care so much if the brute hadn’t scoured the skin off my
+face. He had whiskers as sharp and stiff as sandpaper. And when I jerked
+away he rubbed my cheek with them.”
+
+This revelation as to the cause of her outraged dignity almost
+prostrated her friends with glee.
+
+“Dot, I agree with you; it’s one thing to be kissed, and quite another
+to have your beauty spoiled,” replied Helen, presently. “Who was this
+particular savage?”
+
+“I don’t know!” burst out Dorothy. “If I did I’d—I’d—”
+
+Her eyes expressed the direful punishment she could not speak.
+
+“Honestly now, Dot, haven’t you the least idea who did it?” questioned
+Helen.
+
+“I hope—I think it was Stewart,” replied Dorothy.
+
+“Ah! Dot, your hope is father to the thought. My dear, I’m sorry to
+riddle your little romance. Stewart did not—could not have been the
+offender or hero.”
+
+“How do you know he couldn’t?” demanded Dorothy, flushing.
+
+“Because he was clean-shaven to-day at noon, before we rode out. I
+remember perfectly how nice and smooth and brown his face looked.”
+
+“Oh, do you? Well, if your memory for faces is so good, maybe you can
+tell me which one of these cowboys wasn’t clean-shaven.”
+
+“Merely a matter of elimination,” replied Helen, merrily. “It was not
+Nick; it was not Nels; it was not Frankie. There was only one other
+cowboy with us, and he had a short, stubby growth of black beard, much
+like that cactus we passed on the trail.”
+
+“Oh, I was afraid of it,” moaned Dorothy. “I knew he was going to do it.
+That horrible little smiling demon, Monty Price!”
+
+          *****
+
+A favorite lounging-spot of Madeline’s was a shaded niche under the lee
+of crags facing the east. Here the outlook was entirely different from
+that on the western side. It was not red and white and glaring, nor so
+changeable that it taxed attention. This eastern view was one of the
+mountains and valleys, where, to be sure, there were arid patches; but
+the restful green of pine and fir was there, and the cool gray of crags.
+Bold and rugged indeed were these mountain features, yet they were
+companionably close, not immeasurably distant and unattainable like the
+desert. Here in the shade of afternoon Madeline and Edith would often
+lounge under a low-branched tree. Seldom they talked much, for it was
+afternoon and dreamy with the strange spell of this mountain fastness.
+There was smoky haze in the valleys, a fleecy cloud resting over the
+peaks, a sailing eagle in the blue sky, silence that was the unbroken
+silence of the wild heights, and a soft wind laden with incense of pine.
+
+One afternoon, however, Edith appeared prone to talk seriously.
+
+“Majesty, I must go home soon. I cannot stay out here forever. Are you
+going back with me?”
+
+“Well, maybe,” replied Madeline, thoughtfully. “I have considered it.
+I shall have to visit home some time. But this summer mother and father
+are going to Europe.”
+
+“See here, Majesty Hammond, do you intend to spend the rest of your life
+in this wilderness?” asked Edith, bluntly.
+
+Madeline was silent.
+
+“Oh, it is glorious! Don’t misunderstand me, dear,” went on Edith,
+earnestly, as she laid her hand on Madeline’s. “This trip has been a
+revelation to me. I did not tell you, Majesty, that I was ill when I
+arrived. Now I’m well. So well! Look at Helen, too. Why, she was a ghost
+when we got here. Now she is brown and strong and beautiful. If it were
+for nothing else than this wonderful gift of health I would love the
+West. But I have come to love it for other things—even spiritual
+things. Majesty, I have been studying you. I see and feel what this life
+has made of you. When I came I wondered at your strength, your virility,
+your serenity, your happiness. And I was stunned. I wondered at the
+causes of your change. Now I know. You were sick of idleness, sick of
+uselessness, if not of society—sick of the horrible noises and smells
+and contacts one can no longer escape in the cities. I am sick of all
+that, too, and I could tell you many women of our kind who suffer in a
+like manner. You have done what many of us want to do, but have not the
+courage. You have left it. I am not blind to the splendid difference you
+have made in your life. I think I would have discovered, even if your
+brother had not told me, what good you have done to the Mexicans and
+cattlemen of your range. Then you have work to do. That is much the
+secret of your happiness, is it not? Tell me. Tell me something of what
+it means to you?”
+
+“Work, of course, has much to do with any one’s happiness,” replied
+Madeline. “No one can be happy who has no work. As regards myself—for
+the rest I can hardly tell you. I have never tried to put it in words.
+Frankly, I believe, if I had not had money that I could not have found
+such contentment here. That is not in any sense a judgment against the
+West. But if I had been poor I could not have bought and maintained my
+ranch. Stillwell tells me there are many larger ranches than mine,
+but none just like it. Then I am almost paying my expenses out of my
+business. Think of that! My income, instead of being wasted, is mostly
+saved. I think—I hope I am useful. I have been of some little good
+to the Mexicans—eased the hardships of a few cowboys. For the rest, I
+think my life is a kind of dream. Of course my ranch and range are real,
+my cowboys are typical. If I were to tell you how I feel about them it
+would simply be a story of how Madeline Hammond sees the West. They are
+true to the West. It is I who am strange, and what I feel for them may
+be strange, too. Edith, hold to your own impressions.”
+
+“But, Majesty, my impressions have changed. At first I did not like the
+wind, the dust, the sun, the endless open stretches. But now I do like
+them. Where once I saw only terrible wastes of barren ground now I see
+beauty and something noble. Then, at first, your cowboys struck me as
+dirty, rough, loud, crude, savage—all that was primitive. I did not
+want them near me. I imagined them callous, hard men, their only joy a
+carouse with their kind. But I was wrong. I have changed. The dirt was
+only dust, and this desert dust is clean. They are still rough, loud,
+crude, and savage in my eyes, but with a difference. They are natural
+men. They are little children. Monty Price is one of nature’s noblemen.
+The hard thing is to discover it. All his hideous person, all his
+actions and speech, are masks of his real nature. Nels is a joy, a
+simple, sweet, kindly, quiet man whom some woman should have loved. What
+would love have meant to him! He told me that no woman ever loved him
+except his mother, and he lost her when he was ten. Every man ought to
+be loved—especially such a man as Nels. Somehow his gun record does
+not impress me. I never could believe he killed a man. Then take your
+foreman, Stewart. He is a cowboy, his work and life the same as the
+others. But he has education and most of the graces we are in the habit
+of saying make a gentleman. Stewart is a strange fellow, just like this
+strange country. He’s a man, Majesty, and I admire him. So, you see, my
+impressions are developing with my stay out here.”
+
+“Edith, I am so glad you told me that,” replied Madeline, warmly.
+
+“I like the country, and I like the men,” went on Edith. “One reason I
+want to go home soon is because I am discontented enough at home now,
+without falling in love with the West. For, of course, Majesty, I would.
+I could not live out here. And that brings me to my point. Admitting
+all the beauty and charm and wholesomeness and good of this wonderful
+country, still it is no place for you, Madeline Hammond. You have your
+position, your wealth, your name, your family. You must marry. You must
+have children. You must not give up all that for a quixotic life in a
+wilderness.”
+
+“I am convinced, Edith, that I shall live here all the rest of my life.”
+
+“Oh, Majesty! I hate to preach this way. But I promised your mother I
+would talk to you. And the truth is I hate—I hate what I’m saying. I
+envy you your courage and wisdom. I know you have refused to marry
+Boyd Harvey. I could see that in his face. I believe you will refuse
+Castleton. Whom will you marry? What chance is there for a woman of your
+position to marry out here? What in the world will become of you?”
+
+“Quien sabe?” replied Madeline, with a smile that was almost sad.
+
+          *****
+
+Not so many hours after this conversation with Edith, Madeline sat with
+Boyd Harvey upon the grassy promontory overlooking the west, and she
+listened once again to his suave courtship.
+
+Suddenly she turned to him and said, “Boyd, if I married you would you
+be willing—glad to spend the rest of your life here in the West?”
+
+“Majesty!” he exclaimed. There was amaze in the voice usually so even
+and well modulated—amaze in the handsome face usually so indifferent.
+Her question had startled him. She saw him look down the iron-gray
+cliffs, over the barren slopes and cedared ridges, beyond the
+cactus-covered foothills to the grim and ghastly desert. Just then, with
+its red veils of sunlit dust-clouds, its illimitable waste of ruined and
+upheaved earth, it was a sinister spectacle.
+
+“No,” he replied, with a tinge of shame in his cheek. Madeline said no
+more, nor did he speak. She was spared the pain of refusing him, and she
+imagined he would never ask her again. There was both relief and regret
+in the conviction. Humiliated lovers seldom made good friends.
+
+It was impossible not to like Boyd Harvey. The thought of that, and why
+she could not marry him, concentrated her never-satisfied mind upon the
+man. She looked at him, and she thought of him.
+
+He was handsome, young, rich, well born, pleasant, cultivated—he was
+all that made a gentleman of his class. If he had any vices she had
+not heard of them. She knew he had no thirst for drink or craze for
+gambling. He was considered a very desirable and eligible young man.
+Madeline admitted all this.
+
+Then she thought of things that were perhaps exclusively her own strange
+ideas. Boyd Harvey’s white skin did not tan even in this southwestern
+sun and wind. His hands were whiter than her own, and as soft. They were
+really beautiful, and she remembered what care he took of them. They
+were a proof that he never worked. His frame was tall, graceful,
+elegant. It did not bear evidence of ruggedness. He had never indulged
+in a sport more strenuous than yachting. He hated effort and activity.
+He rode horseback very little, disliked any but moderate motoring, spent
+much time in Newport and Europe, never walked when he could help it, and
+had no ambition unless it were to pass the days pleasantly. If he ever
+had any sons they would be like him, only a generation more toward the
+inevitable extinction of his race.
+
+Madeline returned to camp in just the mood to make a sharp, deciding
+contrast. It happened—fatefully, perhaps—that the first man she
+saw was Stewart. He had just ridden into camp, and as she came up he
+explained that he had gone down to the ranch for the important mail
+about which she had expressed anxiety.
+
+“Down and back in one day!” she exclaimed.
+
+“Yes,” he replied. “It wasn’t so bad.”
+
+“But why did you not send one of the boys, and let him make the regular
+two-day trip?”
+
+“You were worried about your mail,” he answered, briefly, as he
+delivered it. Then he bent to examine the fetlocks of his weary horse.
+
+It was midsummer now, Madeline reflected and exceedingly hot and dusty
+on the lower trail. Stewart had ridden down the mountain and back again
+in twelve hours. Probably no horse in the outfit, except his big black
+or Majesty, could have stood that trip. And his horse showed the effects
+of a grueling day. He was caked with dust and lame and weary.
+
+Stewart looked as if he had spared the horse his weight on many a mile
+of that rough ascent. His boots were evidence of it. His heavy flannel
+shirt, wet through with perspiration, adhered closely to his shoulders
+and arms, so that every ripple of muscle plainly showed. His face was
+black, except round the temples and forehead, where it was bright red.
+Drops of sweat, running off his blackened hands dripped to the ground.
+He got up from examining the lame foot, and then threw off the saddle.
+The black horse snorted and lunged for the watering-pool. Stewart let
+him drink a little, then with iron arms dragged him away. In this action
+the man’s lithe, powerful form impressed Madeline with a wonderful sense
+of muscular force. His brawny wrist was bare; his big, strong hand,
+first clutching the horse’s mane, then patting his neck, had a bruised
+knuckle, and one finger was bound up. That hand expressed as much
+gentleness and thoughtfulness for the horse as it had strength to drag
+him back from too much drinking at a dangerous moment.
+
+Stewart was a combination of fire, strength, and action. These
+attributes seemed to cling about him. There was something vital and
+compelling in his presence. Worn and spent and drawn as he was from
+the long ride, he thrilled Madeline with his potential youth and unused
+vitality and promise of things to be, red-blooded deeds, both of flesh
+and spirit. In him she saw the strength of his forefathers unimpaired.
+The life in him was marvelously significant. The dust, the dirt, the
+sweat, the soiled clothes, the bruised and bandaged hand, the brawn and
+bone—these had not been despised by the knights of ancient days, nor by
+modern women whose eyes shed soft light upon coarse and bloody toilers.
+
+Madeline Hammond compared the man of the East with the man of the West;
+and that comparison was the last parting regret for her old standards.
+
+
+
+
+XVII. The Lost Mine of the Padres
+
+
+In the cool, starry evenings the campers sat around a blazing fire and
+told and listened to stories thrillingly fitted to the dark crags and
+the wild solitude.
+
+Monty Price had come to shine brilliantly as a storyteller. He was
+an atrocious liar, but this fact would not have been evident to his
+enthralled listeners if his cowboy comrades, in base jealousy, had not
+betrayed him. The truth about his remarkable fabrications, however,
+had not become known to Castleton, solely because of the Englishman’s
+obtuseness. And there was another thing much stranger than this and
+quite as amusing. Dorothy Coombs knew Monty was a liar; but she was
+so fascinated by the glittering, basilisk eyes he riveted upon her, so
+taken in by his horrible tales of blood, that despite her knowledge she
+could not help believing them.
+
+Manifestly Monty was very proud of his suddenly acquired gift. Formerly
+he had hardly been known to open his lips in the presence of strangers.
+Monty had developed more than one singular and hitherto unknown trait
+since his supremacy at golf had revealed his possibilities. He was
+as sober and vain and pompous about his capacity for lying as about
+anything else. Some of the cowboys were jealous of him because he held
+the attention and, apparently, the admiration of the ladies; and Nels
+was jealous, not because Monty made himself out to be a wonderful
+gun-man, but because Monty could tell a story. Nels really had been the
+hero of a hundred fights; he had never been known to talk about them;
+but Dorothy’s eyes and Helen’s smile had somehow upset his modesty.
+Whenever Monty would begin to talk Nels would growl and knock his pipe
+on a log, and make it appear he could not stay and listen, though he
+never really left the charmed circle of the camp-fire. Wild horses could
+not have dragged him away.
+
+One evening at twilight, as Madeline was leaving her tent, she
+encountered Monty. Evidently, he had way-laid her. With the most
+mysterious of signs and whispers he led her a little aside.
+
+“Miss Hammond, I’m makin’ bold to ask a favor of you,” he said.
+
+Madeline smiled her willingness.
+
+“To-night, when they’ve all shot off their chins an’ it’s quiet-like,
+I want you to ask me, jest this way, ‘Monty, seein’ as you’ve hed more
+adventures than all them cow-punchers put together, tell us about the
+most turrible time you ever hed.’ Will you ask me, Miss Hammond, jest
+kinda sincere like?”
+
+“Certainly I will, Monty,” she replied.
+
+His dark, seared face had no more warmth than a piece of cold, volcanic
+rock, which it resembled. Madeline appreciated how monstrous Dorothy
+found this burned and distorted visage, how deformed the little man
+looked to a woman of refined sensibilities. It was difficult for
+Madeline to look into his face. But she saw behind the blackened mask.
+And now she saw in Monty’s deep eyes a spirit of pure fun.
+
+So, true to her word, Madeline remembered at an opportune moment, when
+conversation had hushed and only the long, dismal wail of coyotes broke
+the silence, to turn toward the little cowboy.
+
+“Monty,” she said, and paused for effect—“Monty, seeing that you have
+had more adventures than all the cowboys together, tell us about the
+most terrible time you ever had.”
+
+Monty appeared startled at the question that fastened all eyes upon him.
+He waved a deprecatory hand.
+
+“Aw, Miss Hammond, thankin’ you all modest-like fer the compliment, I’ll
+hev to refuse,” replied Monty, laboring in distress. “It’s too harrowin’
+fer tender-hearted gurls to listen to.”
+
+“Go on?” cried everybody except the cowboys. Nels began to nod his head
+as if he, as well as Monty, understood human nature. Dorothy hugged her
+knees with a kind of shudder. Monty had fastened the hypnotic eyes upon
+her. Castleton ceased smoking, adjusted his eyeglass, and prepared to
+listen in great earnestness.
+
+Monty changed his seat to one where the light from the blazing logs
+fell upon his face; and he appeared plunged into melancholy and profound
+thought.
+
+“Now I tax myself, I can’t jest decide which was the orfulest time I
+ever hed,” he said, reflectively.
+
+Here Nels blew forth an immense cloud of smoke, as if he desired to hide
+himself from sight. Monty pondered, and then when the smoke rolled away
+he turned to Nels.
+
+“See hyar, old pard, me an’ you seen somethin’ of each other in the
+Panhandle, more ’n thirty years ago—”
+
+“Which we didn’t,” interrupted Nels, bluntly. “Shore you can’t make me
+out an ole man.”
+
+“Mebbe it wasn’t so darn long. Anyhow, Nels, you recollect them three
+hoss-thieves I hung all on one cottonwood-tree, an’ likewise thet
+boo-tiful blond gurl I rescooed from a band of cutthroats who murdered
+her paw, ole Bill Warren, the buffalo-hunter? Now, which of them two
+scraps was the turriblest, in your idee?”
+
+“Monty, my memory’s shore bad,” replied the unimpeachable Nels.
+
+“Tell us about the beautiful blonde,” cried at least three of the
+ladies. Dorothy, who had suffered from nightmare because of a former
+story of hanging men on trees, had voicelessly appealed to Monty to
+spare her more of that.
+
+“All right, we’ll hev the blond gurl,” said Monty, settling back,
+“though I ain’t thinkin’ her story is most turrible of the two, an’
+it’ll rake over tender affections long slumberin’ in my breast.”
+
+As he paused there came a sharp, rapping sound. This appeared to be Nels
+knocking the ashes out of his pipe on a stump—a true indication of the
+passing of content from that jealous cowboy.
+
+“It was down in the Panhandle, ’way over in the west end of thet
+Comanche huntin’-ground, an’ all the redskins an’ outlaws in thet
+country were hidin’ in the river-bottoms, an’ chasin’ some of the last
+buffalo herds thet hed wintered in there. I was a young buck them days,
+an’ purty much of a desperado, I’m thinkin’. Though of all the seventeen
+notches on my gun—an’ each notch meant a man killed face to face—there
+was only one thet I was ashamed of. Thet one was fer an express
+messenger who I hit on the head most unprofessional like, jest because
+he wouldn’t hand over a leetle package. I hed the kind of a reputashun
+thet made all the fellers in saloons smile an’ buy drinks.
+
+“Well, I dropped into a place named Taylor’s Bend, an’ was peaceful
+standin’ to the bar when three cow-punchers come in, an’, me bein’ with
+my back turned, they didn’t recognize me an’ got playful. I didn’t stop
+drinkin’, an’ I didn’t turn square round; but when I stopped shootin’
+under my arm the saloon-keeper hed to go over to the sawmill an’ fetch
+a heap of sawdust to cover up what was left of them three cow-punchers,
+after they was hauled out. You see, I was rough them days, an’ would
+shoot ears off an’ noses off an’ hands off; when in later days I’d jest
+kill a man quick, same as Wild Bill.
+
+“News drifts into town thet night thet a gang of cut-throats hed
+murdered ole Bill Warren an’ carried off his gurl. I gathers up a few
+good gun-men, an’ we rid out an’ down the river-bottom, to an ole log
+cabin, where the outlaws hed a rondevoo. We rid up boldlike, an’ made a
+hell of a racket. Then the gang began to throw lead from the cabin, an’
+we all hunted cover. Fightin’ went on all night. In the mornin’ all my
+outfit was killed but two, an’ they was shot up bad. We fought all day
+without eatin’ or drinkin’, except some whisky I hed, an’ at night I was
+on the job by my lonesome.
+
+“Bein’ bunged up some myself, I laid off an’ went down to the river to
+wash the blood off, tie up my wounds, an’ drink a leetle. While I was
+down there along comes one of the cutthroats with a bucket. Instead of
+gettin’ water he got lead, an’ as he was about to croak he tells me a
+whole bunch of outlaws was headin’ in there, doo to-morrer. An’ if I
+wanted to rescoo the gurl I hed to be hurryin’. There was five fellers
+left in the cabin.
+
+“I went back to the thicket where I hed left my hoss, an’ loaded up with
+two more guns an’ another belt, an’ busted a fresh box of shells. If I
+recollect proper, I got some cigarettes, too. Well, I mozied back to the
+cabin. It was a boo-tiful moonshiny night, an’ I wondered if ole Bill’s
+gun was as purty as I’d heerd. The grass growed long round the cabin,
+an’ I crawled up to the door without startin’ anythin’. Then I figgered.
+There was only one door in thet cabin, an’ it was black dark inside. I
+jest grabbed open the door an’ slipped in quick. It worked all right.
+They heerd me, but hedn’t been quick enough to ketch me in the light of
+the door. Of course there was some shots, but I ducked too quick, an’
+changed my position.
+
+“Ladies an’ gentlemen, thet there was some dool by night. An’ I wasn’t
+often in the place where they shot. I was most wonderful patient, an’
+jest waited until one of them darned ruffians would get so nervous he’d
+hev to hunt me up. When mornin’ come there they was all piled up on
+the floor, all shot to pieces. I found the gurl. Purty! Say, she was
+boo-tiful. We went down to the river, where she begun to bathe my
+wounds. I’d collected a dozen more or so, an’ the sight of tears in her
+lovely eyes, an’ my blood a-stainin’ of her little hands, jest nat’rally
+wakened a trembly spell in my heart. I seen she was took the same way,
+an’ thet settled it.
+
+“We was comin’ up from the river, an’ I hed jest straddled my hoss, with
+the gurl behind, when we run right into thet cutthroat gang thet was
+doo about then. Bein’ some handicapped, I couldn’t drop more ’n one
+gun-round of them, an’ then I hed to slope. The whole gang follered
+me, an’ some miles out chased me over a ridge right into a big herd of
+buffalo. Before I knowed what was what thet herd broke into a stampede,
+with me in the middle. Purty soon the buffalo closed in tight. I knowed
+I was in some peril then. But the gurl trusted me somethin’ pitiful. I
+seen again thet she hed fell in love with me. I could tell from the way
+she hugged me an’ yelled. Before long I was some put to it to keep my
+hoss on his feet. Far as I could see was dusty, black, bobbin’, shaggy
+humps. A huge cloud of dust went along over our heads. The roar of
+tramplin’ hoofs was turrible. My hoss weakened, went down, an’ was
+carried along a leetle while I slipped off with the gurl on to the backs
+of the buffalo.
+
+“Ladies, I ain’t denyin’ that then Monty Price was some scairt. Fust
+time in my life! But the trustin’ face of thet boo-tiful gurl, as she
+lay in my arms an’ hugged me an’ yelled, made my spirit leap like a
+shootin’ star. I just began to jump from buffalo to buffalo. I must hev
+jumped a mile of them bobbin’ backs before I come to open places. An’
+here’s where I performed the greatest stunts of my life. I hed on my
+big spurs, an’ I jest sit down an’ rid an’ spurred till thet pertickler
+buffalo I was on got near another, an’ then I’d flop over. Thusly I got
+to the edge of the herd, tumbled off’n the last one, an’ rescooed the
+gurl.
+
+“Well, as my memory takes me back, thet was a most affectin’ walk home
+to the little town where she lived. But she wasn’t troo to me, an’
+married another feller. I was too much a sport to kill him. But thet
+low-down trick rankled in my breast. Gurls is strange. I’ve never
+stopped wonderin’ how any gurl who has been hugged an’ kissed by one man
+could marry another. But matoor experience teaches me thet sich is the
+case.”
+
+The cowboys roared; Helen and Mrs. Beck and Edith laughed till they
+cried; Madeline found repression absolutely impossible; Dorothy sat
+hugging her knees, her horror at the story no greater than at Monty’s
+unmistakable reference to her and to the fickleness of women;
+and Castleton for the first time appeared to be moved out of his
+imperturbability, though not in any sense by humor. Indeed, when he came
+to notice it, he was dumfounded by the mirth.
+
+“By Jove! you Americans are an extraordinary people,” he said. “I don’t
+see anything blooming funny in Mr. Price’s story of his adventure. By
+Jove! that was a bally warm occasion. Mr. Price, when you speak of being
+frightened for the only time in your life, I appreciate what you mean. I
+have experienced that. I was frightened once.”
+
+“Dook, I wouldn’t hev thought it of you,” replied Monty. “I’m sure
+tolerable curious to hear about it.”
+
+Madeline and her friends dared not break the spell, for fear that the
+Englishman might hold to his usual modest reticence. He had explored
+in Brazil, seen service in the Boer War, hunted in India and
+Africa—matters of experience of which he never spoke. Upon this
+occasion, however, evidently taking Monty’s recital word for word as
+literal truth, and excited by it into a Homeric mood, he might tell a
+story. The cowboys almost fell upon their knees in their importunity.
+There was a suppressed eagerness in their solicitations, a hint of
+something that meant more than desire, great as it was, to hear a story
+told by an English lord. Madeline divined instantly that the cowboys
+had suddenly fancied that Castleton was not the dense and easily fooled
+person they had made such game of; that he had played his part well;
+that he was having fun at their expense; that he meant to tell a story,
+a lie which would simply dwarf Monty’s. Nels’s keen, bright expectation
+suggested how he would welcome the joke turned upon Monty. The slow
+closing of Monty’s cavernous smile, the gradual sinking of his proud
+bearing, the doubt with which he began to regard Castleton—these were
+proofs of his fears.
+
+“I have faced charging tigers and elephants in India, and charging
+rhinos and lions in Africa,” began Castleton, his quick and fluent
+speech so different from the drawl of his ordinary conversation; “but I
+never was frightened but once. It will not do to hunt those wild beasts
+if you are easily balled up. This adventure I have in mind happened in
+British East Africa, in Uganda. I was out with safari, and we were in a
+native district much infested by man-eating lions. Perhaps I may as well
+state that man-eaters are very different from ordinary lions. They are
+always matured beasts, and sometimes—indeed, mostly—are old. They
+become man-eaters most likely by accident or necessity. When old they
+find it more difficult to make a kill, being slower, probably, and with
+poorer teeth. Driven by hunger, they stalk and kill a native, and, once
+having tasted human blood, they want no other. They become absolutely
+fearless and terrible in their attacks.
+
+“The natives of this village near where we camped were in a terrorized
+state owing to depredations of two or more man-eaters. The night of
+our arrival a lion leaped a stockade fence, seized a native from
+among others sitting round a fire, and leaped out again, carrying the
+screaming fellow away into the darkness. I determined to kill these
+lions, and made a permanent camp in the village for that purpose. By
+day I sent beaters into the brush and rocks of the river-valley, and
+by night I watched. Every night the lions visited us, but I did not see
+one. I discovered that when they roared around the camp they were not so
+liable to attack as when they were silent. It was indeed remarkable how
+silently they could stalk a man. They could creep through a thicket
+so dense you would not believe a rabbit could get through, and do it
+without the slightest sound. Then, when ready to charge, they did so
+with terrible onslaught and roar. They leaped right into a circle of
+fires, tore down huts, even dragged natives from the low trees. There
+was no way to tell at which point they would make an attack.
+
+“After ten days or more of this I was worn out by loss of sleep. And one
+night, when tired out with watching, I fell asleep. My gun-bearer
+was alone in the tent with me. A terrible roar awakened me, then an
+unearthly scream pierced right into my ears. I always slept with my
+rifle in my hands, and, grasping it, I tried to rise. But I could not
+for the reason that a lion was standing over me. Then I lay still. The
+screams of my gun-bearer told me that the lion had him. I was fond of
+this fellow and wanted to save him. I thought it best, however, not to
+move while the lion stood over me. Suddenly he stepped, and I felt poor
+Luki’s feet dragging across me. He screamed, ‘Save me, master!’ And
+instinctively I grasped at him and caught his foot. The lion walked out
+of the tent dragging me as I held to Luki’s foot. The night was bright
+moonlight. I could see the lion distinctly. He was a huge, black-maned
+brute, and he held Luki by the shoulder. The poor lad kept screaming
+frightfully. The man-eater must have dragged me forty yards before he
+became aware of a double incumbrance to his progress. Then he halted
+and turned. By Jove! he made a devilish fierce object with his shaggy,
+massive head, his green-fire eyes, and his huge jaws holding Luki. I let
+go of Luki’s foot and bethought myself of the gun. But as I lay there on
+my side, before attempting to rise, I made a horrible discovery. I did
+not have my rifle at all. I had Luki’s iron spear, which he always had
+near him. My rifle had slipped out of the hollow of my arm, and when the
+lion awakened me, in my confusion I picked up Luki’s spear instead. The
+bloody brute dropped Luki and uttered a roar that shook the ground. It
+was then I felt frightened. For an instant I was almost paralyzed.
+The lion meant to charge, and in one spring he could reach me. Under
+circumstances like those a man can think many things in little time. I
+knew to try to run would be fatal. I remembered how strangely lions had
+been known to act upon occasion. One had been frightened by an umbrella;
+one had been frightened by a blast from a cow-horn; another had been
+frightened by a native who in running from one lion ran right at the
+other which he had not seen. Accordingly, I wondered if I could frighten
+the lion that meant to leap at me. Acting upon wild impulse, I prodded
+him in the hind quarters with the spear. Ladies and gentlemen, I am a
+blooming idiot if that lion did not cower like a whipped dog, put his
+tail down, and begin to slink away. Quick to see my chance, I jumped
+up yelling, and made after him, prodding him again. He let out a bellow
+such as you could imagine would come from an outraged king of beasts.
+I prodded again, and then he loped off. I found Luki not badly hurt. In
+fact, he got well. But I’ve never forgotten that scare.”
+
+When Castleton finished his narrative there was a trenchant silence. All
+eyes were upon Monty. He looked beaten, disgraced, a disgusted man. Yet
+there shone from his face a wonderful admiration for Castleton.
+
+“Dook, you win!” he said; and, dropping his head, he left the camp-fire
+circle with the manner of a deposed emperor.
+
+Then the cowboys exploded. The quiet, serene, low-voiced Nels yelled
+like a madman and he stood upon his head. All the other cowboys went
+through marvelous contortions. Mere noise was insufficient to relieve
+their joy at what they considered the fall and humiliation of the tyrant
+Monty.
+
+The Englishman stood there and watched them in amused consternation.
+They baffled his understanding. Plain it was to Madeline and her friends
+that Castleton had told the simple truth. But never on the earth, or
+anywhere else, could Nels and his comrades have been persuaded that
+Castleton had not lied deliberately to humble their great exponent of
+Ananias.
+
+Everybody seemed reluctant to break the camp-fire spell. The logs had
+burned out to a great heap of opal and gold and red coals, in the heart
+of which quivered a glow alluring to the spirit of dreams. As the blaze
+subsided the shadows of the pines encroached darker and darker upon the
+circle of fading light. A cool wind fanned the embers, whipped up flakes
+of white ashes, and moaned through the trees. The wild yelps of coyotes
+were dying in the distance, and the sky was a wonderful dark-blue dome
+spangled with white stars.
+
+“What a perfect night!” said Madeline. “This is a night to understand
+the dream, the mystery, the wonder of the Southwest. Florence, for long
+you have promised to tell us the story of the lost mine of the padres.
+It will give us all pleasure, make us understand something of the thrall
+in which this land held the Spaniards who discovered it so many years
+ago. It will be especially interesting now, because this mountain hides
+somewhere under its crags the treasures of the lost mine of the padres.”
+
+          *****
+
+“In the sixteenth century,” Florence began, in her soft, slow voice so
+suited to the nature of the legend, “a poor young padre of New Spain was
+shepherding his goats upon a hill when the Virgin appeared before him.
+He prostrated himself at her feet, and when he looked up she was gone.
+But upon the maguey plant near where she had stood there were golden
+ashes of a strange and wonderful substance. He took the incident as a
+good omen and went again to the hilltop. Under the maguey had sprung
+up slender stalks of white, bearing delicate gold flowers, and as these
+flowers waved in the wind a fine golden dust, as fine as powdered ashes,
+blew away toward the north. Padre Juan was mystified, but believed that
+great fortune attended upon him and his poor people. So he went again
+and again to the hilltop in hope that the Virgin would appear to him.
+
+“One morning, as the sun rose gloriously, he looked across the windy
+hill toward the waving grass and golden flowers under the maguey, and
+he saw the Virgin beckoning to him. Again he fell upon his knees; but
+she lifted him and gave him of the golden flowers, and bade him leave
+his home and people to follow where these blowing golden ashes led.
+There he would find gold—pure gold—wonderful fortune to bring back to
+his poor people to build a church for them, and a city.
+
+“Padre Juan took the flowers and left his home, promising to return,
+and he traveled northward over the hot and dusty desert, through the
+mountain passes, to a new country where fierce and warlike Indians
+menaced his life. He was gentle and good, and of a persuasive speech.
+Moreover, he was young and handsome of person. The Indians were Apaches,
+and among them he became a missionary, while always he was searching for
+the flowers of gold. He heard of gold lying in pebbles upon the mountain
+slopes, but he never found any. A few of the Apaches he converted; the
+most of them, however, were prone to be hostile to him and his religion.
+But Padre Juan prayed and worked on.
+
+“There came a time when the old Apache chief, imagining the padre had
+designs upon his influence with the tribe, sought to put him to death
+by fire. The chief’s daughter, a beautiful, dark-eyed maiden, secretly
+loved Juan and believed in his mission, and she interceded for his
+life and saved him. Juan fell in love with her. One day she came to
+him wearing golden flowers in her dark hair, and as the wind blew the
+flowers a golden dust blew upon it. Juan asked her where to find such
+flowers, and she told him that upon a certain day she would take him
+to the mountain to look for them. And upon the day she led up to the
+mountain-top from which they could see beautiful valleys and great trees
+and cool waters. There at the top of a wonderful slope that looked down
+upon the world, she showed Juan the flowers. And Juan found gold in such
+abundance that he thought he would go out of his mind. Dust of gold!
+Grains of gold! Pebbles of gold! Rocks of gold! He was rich beyond all
+dreams. He remembered the Virgin and her words. He must return to his
+people and build their church, and the great city that would bear his
+name.
+
+“But Juan tarried. Always he was going manana. He loved the dark-eyed
+Apache girl so well that he could not leave her. He hated himself for
+his infidelity to his Virgin, to his people. He was weak and false,
+a sinner. But he could not go, and he gave himself up to love of the
+Indian maiden.
+
+“The old Apache chief discovered the secret love of his daughter and the
+padre. And, fierce in his anger, he took her up into the mountains and
+burned her alive and cast her ashes upon the wind. He did not kill Padre
+Juan. He was too wise, and perhaps too cruel, for he saw the strength
+of Juan’s love. Besides, many of his tribe had learned much from the
+Spaniard.
+
+“Padre Juan fell into despair. He had no desire to live. He faded and
+wasted away. But before he died he went to the old Indians who had
+burned the maiden, and he begged them, when he was dead, to burn his
+body and to cast his ashes to the wind from that wonderful slope,
+where they would blow away to mingle forever with those of his Indian
+sweetheart.
+
+“The Indians promised, and when Padre Juan died they burned his body and
+took his ashes to the mountain heights and cast them to the wind, where
+they drifted and fell to mix with the ashes of the Indian girl he had
+loved.
+
+“Years passed. More padres traveled across the desert to the home of
+the Apaches, and they heard the story of Juan. Among their number was
+a padre who in his youth had been one of Juan’s people. He set forth to
+find Juan’s grave, where he believed he would also find the gold. And he
+came back with pebbles of gold and flowers that shed a golden dust,
+and he told a wonderful story. He had climbed and climbed into the
+mountains, and he had come to a wonderful slope under the crags. That
+slope was yellow with golden flowers. When he touched them golden ashes
+drifted from them and blew down among the rocks. There the padre found
+dust of gold, grains of gold, pebbles of gold, rocks of gold.
+
+“Then all the padres went into the mountains. But the discoverer of the
+mine lost his way. They searched and searched until they were old and
+gray, but never found the wonderful slope and flowers that marked the
+grave and the mine of Padre Juan.
+
+“In the succeeding years the story was handed down from father to son.
+But of the many who hunted for the lost mine of the padres there was
+never a Mexican or an Apache. For the Apache the mountain slopes were
+haunted by the spirit of an Indian maiden who had been false to her
+tribe and forever accursed. For the Mexican the mountain slopes were
+haunted by the spirit of the false padre who rolled stones upon the
+heads of those adventurers who sought to find his grave and his accursed
+gold.”
+
+
+
+
+XVIII. Bonita
+
+
+Florence’s story of the lost mine fired Madeline’s guests with the
+fever for gold-hunting. But after they had tried it a few times and the
+glamour of the thing wore off they gave up and remained in camp. Having
+exhausted all the resources of the mountain, such that had interest for
+them, they settled quietly down for a rest, which Madeline knew would
+soon end in a desire for civilized comforts. They were almost tired
+of roughing it. Helen’s discontent manifested itself in her remark, “I
+guess nothing is going to happen, after all.”
+
+Madeline awaited their pleasure in regard to the breaking of camp; and
+meanwhile, as none of them cared for more exertion, she took her walks
+without them, sometimes accompanied by one of the cowboys, always by the
+stag-hounds. These walks furnished her exceeding pleasure. And, now
+that the cowboys would talk to her without reserve, she grew fonder of
+listening to their simple stories. The more she knew of them the more
+she doubted the wisdom of shut-in lives. Companionship with Nels and
+most of the cowboys was in its effect like that of the rugged pines
+and crags and the untainted wind. Humor, their predominant trait when
+a person grew to know them, saved Madeline from finding their hardness
+trying. They were dreamers, as all men who lived lonely lives in the
+wilds were dreamers.
+
+The cowboys all had secrets. Madeline learned some of them. She marveled
+most at the strange way in which they hid emotions, except of violence
+of mirth and temper so easily aroused. It was all the more remarkable
+in view of the fact that they felt intensely over little things to which
+men of the world were blind and dead. Madeline had to believe that a
+hard and perilous life in a barren and wild country developed great
+principles in men. Living close to earth, under the cold, bleak peaks,
+on the dust-veiled desert, men grew like the nature that developed
+them—hard, fierce, terrible, perhaps, but big—big with elemental
+force.
+
+But one day, while out walking alone, before she realized it she had
+gone a long way down a dim trail winding among the rocks. It was the
+middle of a summer afternoon, and all about her were shadows of the
+crags crossing the sunlit patches. The quiet was undisturbed. She went
+on and on, not blind to the fact that she was perhaps going too far from
+camp, but risking it because she was sure of her way back, and enjoying
+the wild, craggy recesses that were new to her. Finally she came out
+upon a bank that broke abruptly into a beautiful little glade. Here she
+sat down to rest before undertaking the return trip.
+
+Suddenly Russ, the keener of the stag-hounds, raised his head and
+growled. Madeline feared he might have scented a mountain-lion or
+wildcat. She quieted him and carefully looked around. To each side was
+an irregular line of massive blocks of stone that had weathered from
+the crags. The little glade was open and grassy, with here a pine-tree,
+there a boulder. The outlet seemed to go down into a wilderness of
+canyons and ridges. Looking in this direction, Madeline saw the slight,
+dark figure of a woman coming stealthily along under the pines. Madeline
+was amazed, then a little frightened, for that stealthy walk from tree
+to tree was suggestive of secrecy, if nothing worse.
+
+Presently the woman was joined by a tall man who carried a package,
+which he gave to her. They came on up the glade and appeared to be
+talking earnestly. In another moment Madeline recognized Stewart. She
+had no greater feeling of surprise than had at first been hers. But for
+the next moment she scarcely thought at all—merely watched the couple
+approaching. In a flash came back her former curiosity as to Stewart’s
+strange absences from camp, and then with the return of her doubt of him
+the recognition of the woman. The small, dark head, the brown face,
+the big eyes—Madeline now saw distinctly—belonged to the Mexican girl
+Bonita. Stewart had met her there. This was the secret of his lonely
+trips, taken ever since he had come to work for Madeline. This secluded
+glade was a rendezvous. He had her hidden there.
+
+Quietly Madeline arose, with a gesture to the dogs, and went back along
+the trail toward camp. Succeeding her surprise was a feeling of sorrow
+that Stewart’s regeneration had not been complete. Sorrow gave place
+to insufferable distrust that while she had been romancing about this
+cowboy, dreaming of her good influence over him, he had been merely
+base. Somehow it stung her. Stewart had been nothing to her, she
+thought, yet she had been proud of him. She tried to revolve the thing,
+to be fair to him, when every instinctive tendency was to expel him, and
+all pertaining to him, from her thoughts. And her effort at sympathy, at
+extenuation, failed utterly before her pride. Exerting her will-power,
+she dismissed Stewart from her mind.
+
+Madeline did not think of him again till late that afternoon, when, as
+she was leaving her tent to join several of her guests, Stewart appeared
+suddenly in her path.
+
+“Miss Hammond, I saw your tracks down the trail,” he began, eagerly, but
+his tone was easy and natural. “I’m thinking—well, maybe you sure got
+the idea—”
+
+“I do not wish for an explanation,” interrupted Madeline.
+
+Stewart gave a slight start. His manner had a semblance of the old, cool
+audacity. As he looked down at her it subtly changed.
+
+What effrontery, Madeline thought, to face her before her guests with
+an explanation of his conduct! Suddenly she felt an inward flash of fire
+that was pain, so strange, so incomprehensible, that her mind whirled.
+Then anger possessed her, not at Stewart, but at herself, that anything
+could rouse in her a raw emotion. She stood there, outwardly cold,
+serene, with level, haughty eyes upon Stewart; but inwardly she was
+burning with rage and shame.
+
+“I’m sure not going to have you think—” He began passionately, but he
+broke off, and a slow, dull crimson blotted over the healthy red-brown
+of his neck and cheeks.
+
+“What you do or think, Stewart, is no concern of mine.”
+
+“Miss—Miss Hammond! You don’t believe—” faltered Stewart.
+
+The crimson receded from his face, leaving it pale. His eyes were
+appealing. They had a kind of timid look that struck Madeline even in
+her anger. There was something boyish about him then. He took a step
+forward and reached out with his hand open-palmed in a gesture that was
+humble, yet held a certain dignity.
+
+“But listen. Never mind now what you—you think about me. There’s a good
+reason—”
+
+“I have no wish to hear your reason.”
+
+“But you ought to,” he persisted.
+
+“Sir!”
+
+Stewart underwent another swift change. He started violently. A dark
+tide shaded his face and a glitter leaped to his eyes. He took two long
+strides—loomed over her.
+
+“I’m not thinking about myself,” he thundered. “Will you listen?”
+
+“No,” she replied; and there was freezing hauteur in her voice. With a
+slight gesture of dismissal, unmistakable in its finality, she turned
+her back upon him. Then she joined her guests.
+
+Stewart stood perfectly motionless. Then slowly he began to lift his
+right hand in which he held his sombrero. He swept it up and up high
+over his head. His tall form towered. With fierce suddenness he flung
+his sombrero down. He leaped at his black horse and dragged him to where
+his saddle lay. With one pitch he tossed the saddle upon the horse’s
+back. His strong hands flashed at girths and straps. Every action was
+swift, decisive, fierce. Bounding for his bridle, which hung over
+a bush, he ran against a cowboy who awkwardly tried to avoid the
+onslaught.
+
+“Get out of my way!” he yelled.
+
+Then with the same savage haste he adjusted the bridle on his horse.
+
+“Mebbe you better hold on a minnit, Gene, ole feller,” said Monty Price.
+
+“Monty, do you want me to brain you?” said Stewart, with the short, hard
+ring in his voice.
+
+“Now, considerin’ the high class of my brains, I oughter be real careful
+to keep ’em,” replied Monty. “You can betcher life, Gene, I ain’t goin’
+to git in front of you. But I jest says—Listen!”
+
+Stewart raised his dark face. Everybody listened. And everybody heard
+the rapid beat of a horse’s hoofs. The sun had set, but the park was
+light. Nels appeared down the trail, and his horse was running. In
+another moment he was in the circle, pulling his bay back to a sliding
+halt. He leaped off abreast of Stewart.
+
+Madeline saw and felt a difference in Nels’s presence.
+
+“What’s up, Gene?” he queried, sharply.
+
+“I’m leaving camp,” replied Stewart, thickly. His black horse began to
+stamp as Stewart grasped bridle and mane and kicked the stirrup round.
+
+Nels’s long arm shot out, and his hand fell upon Stewart, holding him
+down.
+
+“Shore I’m sorry,” said Nels, slowly. “Then you was goin’ to hit the
+trail?”
+
+“I am going to. Let go, Nels.”
+
+“Shore you ain’t goin’, Gene?”
+
+“Let go, damn you!” cried Stewart, as he wrestled free.
+
+“What’s wrong?” asked Nels, lifting his hand again.
+
+“Man! Don’t touch me!”
+
+Nels stepped back instantly. He seemed to become aware of Stewart’s
+white, wild passion. Again Stewart moved to mount.
+
+“Nels, don’t make me forget we’ve been friends,” he said.
+
+“Shore I ain’t fergettin’,” replied Nels. “An’ I resign my job right
+here an’ now!”
+
+His strange speech checked the mounting cowboy. Stewart stepped down
+from the stirrup. Then their hard faces were still and cold while their
+eyes locked glances.
+
+Madeline was as much startled by Nels’s speech as Stewart. Quick to note
+a change in these men, she now sensed one that was unfathomable.
+
+“Resign?” questioned Stewart.
+
+“Shore. What ’d you think I’d do under circumstances sich as has come
+up?”
+
+“But see here, Nels, I won’t stand for it.”
+
+“You’re not my boss no more, an’ I ain’t beholdin’ to Miss Hammond,
+neither. I’m my own boss, an’ I’ll do as I please. Sabe, senor?”
+
+Nels’s words were at variance with the meaning in his face.
+
+“Gene, you sent me on a little scout down in the mountains, didn’t you?”
+ he continued.
+
+“Yes, I did,” replied Stewart, with a new sharpness in his voice.
+
+“Wal, shore you was so good an’ right in your figgerin’, as opposed to
+mine, that I’m sick with admirin’ of you. If you hedn’t sent me—wal,
+I’m reckonin’ somethin’ might hev happened. As it is we’re shore up
+against a hell of a proposition!”
+
+How significant was the effect of his words upon all the cowboys!
+Stewart made a fierce and violent motion, terrible where his other
+motions had been but passionate. Monty leaped straight up into the
+air in a singular action as suggestive of surprise as it was of wild
+acceptance of menace. Like a stalking giant Nick Steele strode over to
+Nels and Stewart. The other cowboys rose silently, without a word.
+
+Madeline and her guests, in a little group, watched and listened, unable
+to divine what all this strange talk and action meant.
+
+“Hold on, Nels, they don’t need to hear it,” said Stewart, hoarsely, as
+he waved a hand toward Madeline’s silent group.
+
+“Wal, I’m sorry, but I reckon they’d as well know fust as last. Mebbe
+thet yearnin’ wish of Miss Helen’s fer somethin’ to happen will come
+true. Shore I—”
+
+“Cut out the joshin’,” rang out Monty’s strident voice.
+
+It had as decided an effect as any preceding words or action. Perhaps
+it was the last thing needed to transform these men, doing unaccustomed
+duty as escorts of beautiful women, to their natural state as men of the
+wild.
+
+“Tell us what’s what,” said Stewart, cool and grim.
+
+“Don Carlos an’ his guerrillas are campin’ on the trails thet lead
+up here. They’ve got them trails blocked. By to-morrer they’d hed us
+corralled. Mebbe they meant to surprise us. He’s got a lot of Greasers
+an’ outlaws. They’re well armed. Now what do they mean? You-all can
+figger it out to suit yourselves. Mebbe the Don wants to pay a sociable
+call on our ladies. Mebbe his gang is some hungry, as usual. Mebbe they
+want to steal a few hosses, or anythin’ they can lay hands on. Mebbe
+they mean wuss, too. Now my idee is this, an’ mebbe it’s wrong. I long
+since separated from love with Greasers. Thet black-faced Don Carlos has
+got a deep game. Thet two-bit of a revolution is hevin’ hard times.
+The rebels want American intervention. They’d stretch any point to make
+trouble. We’re only ten miles from the border. Suppose them guerrillas
+got our crowd across thet border? The U. S. cavalry would foller.
+You-all know what thet’d mean. Mebbe Don Carlos’s mind works thet way.
+Mebbe it don’t. I reckon we’ll know soon. An’ now, Stewart, whatever the
+Don’s game is, shore you’re the man to outfigger him. Mebbe it’s just as
+well you’re good an’ mad about somethin’. An’ I resign my job because I
+want to feel unbeholdin’ to anybody. Shore it struck me long since thet
+the old days hed come back fer a little spell, an’ there I was trailin’
+a promise not to hurt any Greaser.”
+
+
+
+
+XIX. Don Carlos
+
+
+Stewart took Nels, Monty, and Nick Steele aside out of earshot, and they
+evidently entered upon an earnest colloquy. Presently the other cowboys
+were called. They all talked more or less, but the deep voice of Stewart
+predominated over the others. Then the consultation broke up, and the
+cowboys scattered.
+
+“Rustle, you Indians!” ordered Stewart.
+
+The ensuing scene of action was not reassuring to Madeline and her
+friends. They were quiet, awaiting some one to tell them what to do. At
+the offset the cowboys appeared to have forgotten Madeline. Some of them
+ran off into the woods, others into the open, grassy places, where they
+rounded up the horses and burros. Several cowboys spread tarpaulins
+upon the ground and began to select and roll small packs, evidently for
+hurried travel. Nels mounted his horse to ride down the trail. Monty
+and Nick Steele went off into the grove, leading their horses. Stewart
+climbed up a steep jumble of stone between two sections of low, cracked
+cliff back of the camp.
+
+Castleton offered to help the packers, and was curtly told he would
+be in the way. Madeline’s friends all importuned her: Was there real
+danger? Were the guerrillas coming? Would a start be made at once for
+the ranch? Why had the cowboys suddenly become so different? Madeline
+answered as best she could; but her replies were only conjecture, and
+modified to allay the fears of her guests. Helen was in a white glow of
+excitement.
+
+Soon cowboys appeared riding barebacked horses, driving in others and
+the burros. Some of these horses were taken away and evidently hidden
+in deep recesses between the crags. The string of burros were packed
+and sent off down the trail in charge of a cowboy. Nick Steele and Monty
+returned. Then Stewart appeared, clambering down the break between the
+cliffs.
+
+His next move was to order all the baggage belonging to Madeline and her
+guests taken up the cliff. This was strenuous toil, requiring the need
+of lassoes to haul up the effects.
+
+“Get ready to climb,” said Stewart, turning to Madelines party.
+
+“Where?” asked Helen.
+
+He waved his hand at the ascent to be made. Exclamations of dismay
+followed his gesture.
+
+“Mr. Stewart, is there danger?” asked Dorothy; and her voice trembled.
+
+This was the question Madeline had upon her lips to ask Stewart, but she
+could not speak it.
+
+“No, there’s no danger,” replied Stewart, “but we’re taking precautions
+we all agreed on as best.”
+
+Dorothy whispered that she believed Stewart lied. Castleton asked
+another question, and then Harvey followed suit. Mrs. Beck made a timid
+query.
+
+“Please keep quiet and do as you’re told,” said Stewart, bluntly.
+
+At this juncture, when the last of the baggage was being hauled up the
+cliff, Monty approached Madeline and removed his sombrero. His black
+face seemed the same, yet this was a vastly changed Monty.
+
+“Miss Hammond, I’m givin’ notice I resign my job,” he said.
+
+“Monty! What do you mean? What does Nels mean now, when danger
+threatens?”
+
+“We jest quit. Thet’s all,” replied Monty, tersely. He was stern and
+somber; he could not stand still; his eyes roved everywhere.
+
+Castleton jumped up from the log where he had been sitting, and his face
+was very red.
+
+“Mr. Price, does all this blooming fuss mean we are to be robbed or
+attacked or abducted by a lot of ragamuffin guerrillas?”
+
+“You’ve called the bet.”
+
+Dorothy turned a very pale face toward Monty.
+
+“Mr. Price, you wouldn’t—you couldn’t desert us now? You and Mr.
+Nels—”
+
+“Desert you?” asked Monty, blankly.
+
+“Yes, desert us. Leave us when we may need you so much, with something
+dreadful coming.”
+
+Monty uttered a short, hard laugh as he bent a strange look upon the
+girl.
+
+“Me an’ Nels is purty much scared, an’ we’re goin’ to slope. Miss
+Dorothy, bein’ as we’ve rustled round so much; it sorta hurts us to see
+nice young girls dragged off by the hair.”
+
+Dorothy uttered a little cry and then became hysterical. Castleton for
+once was fully aroused.
+
+“By Gad! You and your partner are a couple of blooming cowards. Where
+now is that courage you boasted of?”
+
+Monty’s dark face expressed extreme sarcasm.
+
+“Dook, in my time I’ve seen some bright fellers, but you take the
+cake. It’s most marvelous how bright you are. Figger’n’ me an’ Nels so
+correct. Say, Dook, if you don’t git rustled off to Mexico an’ roped to
+a cactus-bush you’ll hev a swell story fer your English chums. Bah
+Jove! You’ll tell ’em how you seen two old-time gun-men run like scared
+jack-rabbits from a lot of Greasers. Like hell you will! Unless you
+lie like the time you told about proddin’ the lion. That there story
+allus—”
+
+“Monty, shut up!” yelled Stewart, as he came hurriedly up. Then Monty
+slouched away, cursing to himself.
+
+Madeline and Helen, assisted by Castleton, worked over Dorothy, and
+with some difficulty quieted her. Stewart passed several times without
+noticing them, and Monty, who had been so ridiculously eager to pay
+every little attention to Dorothy, did not see her at all. Rude it
+seemed; in Monty’s ease more than that. Madeline hardly knew what to
+make of it.
+
+Stewart directed cowboys to go to the head of the open place in the
+cliff and let down lassoes. Then, with little waste of words, he urged
+the women toward this rough ladder of stones.
+
+“We want to hide you,” he said, when they demurred. “If the guerrillas
+come we’ll tell them you’ve all gone down to the ranch. If we have to
+fight you’ll be safe up there.”
+
+Helen stepped boldly forward and let Stewart put the loop of a lasso
+round her and tighten it. He waved his hand to the cowboys above.
+
+“Just walk up, now,” he directed Helen.
+
+It proved to the watchers to be an easy, safe, and rapid means of
+scaling the steep passage. The men climbed up without assistance. Mrs.
+Beck, as usual, had hysteria; she half walked and was half dragged up.
+Stewart supported Dorothy with one arm, while with the other he held to
+the lasso. Ambrose had to carry Christine. The Mexican women required
+no assistance. Edith Wayne and Madeline climbed last; and, once up,
+Madeline saw a narrow bench, thick with shrubs, and overshadowed by
+huge, leaning crags. There were holes in the rock, and dark fissures
+leading back. It was a rough, wild place. Tarpaulins and bedding were
+then hauled up, and food and water. The cowboys spread comfortable beds
+in several of the caves, and told Madeline and her friends to be as
+quiet as possible, not to make a light, and to sleep dressed, ready for
+travel at a moment’s notice.
+
+After the cowboys had gone down it was not a cheerful group left there
+in the darkening twilight. Castleton prevailed upon them to eat.
+
+“This is simply great,” whispered Helen.
+
+“Oh, it’s awful!” moaned Dorothy. “It’s your fault, Helen. You prayed
+for something to happen.”
+
+“I believe it’s a horrid trick those cowboys are playing,” said Mrs.
+Beck.
+
+Madeline assured her friends that no trick was being played upon them,
+and that she deplored the discomfort and distress, but felt no real
+alarm. She was more inclined to evasive kindness here than to sincerity,
+for she had a decided uneasiness. The swift change in the manner and
+looks of her cowboys had been a shock to her. The last glance she had of
+Stewart’s face, then stern, almost sad, and haggard with worry, remained
+to augment her foreboding.
+
+Darkness appeared to drop swiftly down; the coyotes began their
+haunting, mournful howls; the stars showed and grew brighter; the wind
+moaned through the tips of the pines. Castleton was restless. He walked
+to and fro before the overhanging shelf of rock, where his companions
+sat lamenting, and presently he went out to the ledge of the bench. The
+cowboys below had built a fire, and the light from it rose in a huge,
+fan-shaped glow. Castleton’s little figure stood out black against this
+light. Curious and anxious also, Madeline joined him and peered down
+from the cliff. The distance was short, and occasionally she could
+distinguish a word spoken by the cowboys. They were unconcernedly
+cooking and eating. She marked the absence of Stewart, and mentioned it
+to Castleton. Silently Castleton pointed almost straight down, and there
+in the gloom stood Stewart, with the two stag-hounds at his feet.
+
+Presently Nick Steele silenced the camp-fire circle by raising a warning
+hand. The cowboys bent their heads, listening. Madeline listened with
+all her might. She heard one of the hounds whine, then the faint beat of
+horse’s hoofs. Nick spoke again and turned to his supper, and the other
+men seemed to slacken in attention. The beat of hoofs grew louder,
+entered the grove, then the circle of light. The rider was Nels. He
+dismounted, and the sound of his low voice just reached Madeline.
+
+“Gene, it’s Nels. Somethin’ doin’,” Madeline heard one of the cowboys
+call, softly.
+
+“Send him over,” replied Stewart.
+
+Nels stalked away from the fire.
+
+“See here, Nels, the boys are all right, but I don’t want them to know
+everything about this mix-up,” said Stewart, as Nels came up. “Did you
+find the girl?”
+
+Madeline guessed that Stewart referred to the Mexican girl Bonita.
+
+“No. But I met”—Madeline did not catch the name—“an’ he was wild. He
+was with a forest-ranger. An’ they said Pat Hawe had trailed her an’ was
+takin’ her down under arrest.”
+
+Stewart muttered deep under his breath, evidently cursing.
+
+“Wonder why he didn’t come on up here?” he queried, presently. “He can
+see a trail.”
+
+“Wal, Gene, Pat knowed you was here all right, fer thet ranger said
+Pat hed wind of the guerrillas, an’ Pat said if Don Carlos didn’t kill
+you—which he hoped he’d do—then it ’d be time enough to put you in
+jail when you come down.”
+
+“He’s dead set to arrest me, Nels.”
+
+“An’ he’ll do it, like the old lady who kept tavern out West. Gene, the
+reason thet red-faced coyote didn’t trail you up here is because he’s
+scared. He allus was scared of you. But I reckon he’s shore scared to
+death of me an’ Monty.”
+
+“Well, we’ll take Pat in his turn. The thing now is, when will that
+Greaser stalk us, and what’ll we do when he comes?”
+
+“My boy, there’s only one way to handle a Greaser. I shore told you
+thet. He means rough toward us. He’ll come smilin’ up, all soci’ble
+like, insinuatin’ an’ sweeter ’n a woman. But he’s treacherous; he’s
+wuss than an Indian. An’, Gene, we know for a positive fact how his gang
+hev been operatin’ between these hills an’ Agua Prieta. They’re no nervy
+gang of outlaws like we used to hev. But they’re plumb bad. They’ve
+raided and murdered through the San Luis Pass an’ Guadalupe Canyon.
+They’ve murdered women, an’ wuss than thet, both north an’ south of Agua
+Prieta. Mebbe the U. S. cavalry don’t know it, an’ the good old States;
+but we, you an’ me an’ Monty an’ Nick, we know it. We know jest about
+what thet rebel war down there amounts to. It’s guerrilla war, an’ shore
+some harvest-time fer a lot of cheap thieves an’ outcasts.”
+
+“Oh, you’re right, Nels. I’m not disputing that,” replied Stewart. “If
+it wasn’t for Miss Hammond and the other women, I’d rather enjoy seeing
+you and Monty open up on that bunch. I’m thinking I’d be glad to meet
+Don Carlos. But Miss Hammond! Why, Nels, such a woman as she is would
+never recover from the sight of real gun-play, let alone any stunts
+with a rope. These Eastern women are different. I’m not belittling our
+Western women. It’s in the blood. Miss Hammond is—is—”
+
+“Shore she is,” interrupted Nels; “but she’s got a damn sight more spunk
+than you think she has, Gene Stewart. I’m no thick-skulled cow. I’d hate
+somethin’ powerful to hev Miss Hammond see any rough work, let alone me
+an’ Monty startin’ somethin’. An’ me an’ Monty’ll stick to you, Gene, as
+long as seems reasonable. Mind, ole feller, beggin’ your pardon, you’re
+shore stuck on Miss Hammond, an’ over-tender not to hurt her feelin’s or
+make her sick by lettin’ some blood. We’re in bad here, an’ mebbe we’ll
+hev to fight. Sabe, senor? Wal, we do you can jest gamble thet Miss
+Hammond’ll be game. An’ I’ll bet you a million pesos thet if you got
+goin’ onct, an’ she seen you as I’ve seen you—wal, I know what she’d
+think of you. This old world ain’t changed much. Some women may be
+white-skinned an’ soft-eyed an’ sweet-voiced an’ high-souled, but they
+all like to see a man! Gene, here’s your game. Let Don Carlos come
+along. Be civil. If he an’ his gang are hungry, feed ’em. Take even a
+little overbearin’ Greaser talk. Be blind if he wants his gang to steal
+somethin’. Let him think the women hev mosied down to the ranch. But
+if he says you’re lyin’—if he as much as looks round to see the
+women—jest jump him same as you jumped Pat Hawe. Me an’ Monty’ll hang
+back fer thet, an’ if your strong bluff don’t go through, if the Don’s
+gang even thinks of flashin’ guns, then we’ll open up. An’ all I got to
+say is if them Greasers stand fer real gun-play they’ll be the fust I
+ever seen.”
+
+“Nels, there are white men in that gang,” said Stewart.
+
+“Shore. But me an’ Monty’ll be thinkin’ of thet. If they start anythin’
+it’ll hev to be shore quick.”
+
+“All right, Nels, old friend, and thanks,” replied Stewart. Nels
+returned to the camp-fire, and Stewart resumed his silent guard.
+
+Madeline led Castleton away from the brink of the wall.
+
+“By Jove! Cowboys are blooming strange folk!” he exclaimed. “They are
+not what they pretend to be.”
+
+“Indeed, you are right,” replied Madeline. “I cannot understand them.
+Come, let us tell the others that Nels and Monty were only talking and
+do not intend to leave us. Dorothy, at least, will be less frightened if
+she knows.”
+
+Dorothy was somewhat comforted. The others, however, complained of the
+cowboys’ singular behavior. More than once the idea was advanced that
+an elaborate trick had been concocted. Upon general discussion this idea
+gained ground. Madeline did not combat it, because she saw it tended to
+a less perturbed condition of mind among her guests. Castleton for once
+proved that he was not absolutely obtuse, and helped along the idea.
+
+They sat talking in low voices until a late hour. The incident now began
+to take on the nature of Helen’s long-yearned-for adventure. Some of the
+party even grew merry in a subdued way. Then, gradually, one by one they
+tired and went to bed. Helen vowed she could not sleep in a place where
+there were bats and crawling things. Madeline fancied, however, that
+they all went to sleep while she lay wide-eyed, staring up at the black
+bulge of overhanging rock and beyond the starry sky.
+
+To keep from thinking of Stewart and the burning anger he had caused her
+to feel for herself, Madeline tried to keep her mind on other things.
+But thought of him recurred, and each time there was a hot commotion
+in her breast hard to stifle. Intelligent reasoning seemed out of her
+power. In the daylight it had been possible for her to be oblivious to
+Stewart’s deceit after the moment of its realization. At night, however,
+in the strange silence and hovering shadows of gloom, with the speaking
+stars seeming to call to her, with the moan of the wind in the pines,
+and the melancholy mourn of coyotes in the distance, she was not able to
+govern her thought and emotion. The day was practical, cold; the night
+was strange and tense. In the darkness she had fancies wholly unknown to
+her in the bright light of the sun. She battled with a haunting thought.
+She had inadvertently heard Nels’s conversation with Stewart; she had
+listened, hoping to hear some good news or to hear the worst; she had
+learned both, and, moreover, enlightenment on one point of Stewart’s
+complex motives. He wished to spare her any sight that might offend,
+frighten, or disgust her. Yet this Stewart, who showed a fineness of
+feeling that might have been wanting even in Boyd Harvey, maintained a
+secret rendezvous with that pretty, abandoned Bonita. Here always
+the hot shame, like a live, stinging, internal fire, abruptly ended
+Madeline’s thought. It was intolerable, and it was the more so because
+she could neither control nor understand it. The hours wore on, and at
+length, as the stars began to pale and there was no sound whatever, she
+fell asleep.
+
+She was called out of her slumber. Day had broken bright and cool.
+The sun was still below the eastern crags. Ambrose, with several other
+cowboys, had brought up buckets of spring-water, and hot coffee and
+cakes. Madeline’s party appeared to be none the worse for the night’s
+experience. Indeed, the meager breakfast might have been as merrily
+partaken of as it was hungrily had not Ambrose enjoined silence.
+
+“They’re expectin’ company down below,” he said.
+
+This information and the summary manner in which the cowboys soon led
+the party higher up among the ruined shelves of rock caused a recurrence
+of anxiety. Madeline insisted on not going beyond a projection of
+cliff from which she could see directly down into the camp. As the
+vantage-point was one affording concealment, Ambrose consented, but
+he placed the frightened Christine near Madeline and remained there
+himself.
+
+“Ambrose, do you really think the guerrillas will come?” asked Madeline.
+
+“Sure. We know. Nels just rode in and said they were on their way up.
+Miss Hammond, can I trust you? You won’t let out a squeal if there’s a
+fight down there? Stewart told me to hide you out of sight or keep you
+from lookin’.”
+
+“I promise not to make any noise,” replied Madeline. Madeline arranged
+her coat so that she could lie upon it, and settled down to wait
+developments. There came a slight rattling of stones in the rear. She
+turned to see Helen sliding down a bank with a perplexed and troubled
+cowboy. Helen came stooping low to where Madeline lay and said: “I am
+going to see what happens, if I die in the attempt! I can stand it
+if you can.” She was pale and big-eyed. Ambrose promptly swore at the
+cowboy who had let her get away from him. “Take a half-hitch on her
+yourself an’ see where you end up,” replied the fellow, and disappeared
+in the jumble of rocks. Ambrose, finding words useless, sternly and
+heroically prepared to carry Helen back to the others. He laid hold of
+her. In a fury, with eyes blazing, Helen whispered:
+
+“Let go of me! Majesty, what does this fool mean?”
+
+Madeline laughed. She knew Helen, and had marked the whisper, when
+ordinarily Helen would have spoken imperiously, and not low. Madeline
+explained to her the exigency of the situation. “I might run, but I’ll
+never scream,” said Helen. With that Ambrose had to be content to let
+her stay. However, he found her a place somewhat farther back from
+Madeline’s position, where he said there was less danger of her being
+seen. Then he sternly bound her to silence, tarried a moment to comfort
+Christine, and returned to where Madeline lay concealed. He had been
+there scarcely a moment when he whispered:
+
+“I hear hosses. The guerrillas are comin’.”
+
+Madeline’s hiding-place was well protected from possible discovery from
+below. She could peep over a kind of parapet, through an opening in the
+tips of the pines that reached up to the cliff, and obtain a commanding
+view of the camp circle and its immediate surroundings. She could not,
+however, see far either to right or left of the camp, owing to the
+obstructing foliage. Presently the sound of horses’ hoofs quickened the
+beat of her pulse and caused her to turn keener gaze upon the cowboys
+below.
+
+Although she had some inkling of the course Stewart and his men were to
+pursue, she was not by any means prepared for the indifference she saw.
+Frank was asleep, or pretended to be. Three cowboys were lazily and
+unconcernedly attending to camp-fire duties, such as baking biscuits,
+watching the ovens, and washing tins and pots. The elaborate set of
+aluminum plates, cups, etc., together with the other camp fixtures that
+had done service for Madeline’s party, had disappeared. Nick Steele
+sat with his back to a log, smoking his pipe. Another cowboy had just
+brought the horses closer into camp, where they stood waiting to be
+saddled. Nels appeared to be fussing over a pack. Stewart was rolling
+a cigarette. Monty had apparently nothing to do for the present except
+whistle, which he was doing much more loudly than melodiously. The whole
+ensemble gave an impression of careless indifference.
+
+The sound of horses’ hoofs grew louder and slowed its beat. One of the
+cowboys pointed down the trail, toward which several of his comrades
+turned their heads for a moment, then went on with their occupations.
+
+Presently a shaggy, dusty horse bearing a lean, ragged, dark rider rode
+into camp and halted. Another followed, and another. Horses with Mexican
+riders came in single file and stopped behind the leader.
+
+The cowboys looked up, and the guerrillas looked down. “Buenos dias,
+senor,” ceremoniously said the foremost guerrilla.
+
+By straining her ears Madeline heard that voice, and she recognized
+it as belonging to Don Carlos. His graceful bow to Stewart was also
+familiar. Otherwise she would never have recognized the former elegant
+vaquero in this uncouth, roughly dressed Mexican.
+
+Stewart answered the greeting in Spanish, and, waving his hand toward
+the camp-fire, added in English, “Get down and eat.”
+
+The guerrillas were anything but slow in complying. They crowded to
+the fire, then spread in a little circle and squatted upon the ground,
+laying their weapons beside them. In appearance they tallied with the
+band of guerrillas that had carried Madeline up into the foothills, only
+this band was larger and better armed. The men, moreover, were just as
+hungry and as wild and beggarly. The cowboys were not cordial in their
+reception of this visit, but they were hospitable. The law of the desert
+had always been to give food and drink to wayfaring men, whether lost or
+hunted or hunting.
+
+“There’s twenty-three in that outfit,” whispered Ambrose, “includin’
+four white men. Pretty rummy outfit.”
+
+“They appear to be friendly enough,” whispered Madeline.
+
+“Things down there ain’t what they seem,” replied Ambrose.
+
+“Ambrose, tell me—explain to me. This is my opportunity. As long as you
+will let me watch them, please let me know the—the real thing.”
+
+“Sure. But recollect, Miss Hammond, that Gene’ll give it to me good if
+he ever knows I let you look and told you what’s what. Well, decent-like
+Gene is seen’ them poor devils get a square meal. They’re only a lot of
+calf-thieves in this country. Across the border they’re bandits, some of
+them, the others just riffraff outlaws. That rebel bluff doesn’t go down
+with us. I’d have to see first before I’d believe them Greasers would
+fight. They’re a lot of hard-ridin’ thieves, and they’d steal a fellow’s
+blanket or tobacco. Gene thinks they’re after you ladies—to carry you
+off. But Gene—Oh, Gene’s some highfalutin in his ideas lately. Most of
+us boys think the guerrillas are out to rob—that’s all.”
+
+Whatever might have been the secret motive of Don Carlos and his men,
+they did not allow it to interfere with a hearty appreciation of a
+generous amount of food. Plainly, each individual ate all that he was
+able to eat at the time. They jabbered like a flock of parrots; some
+were even merry, in a kind of wild way. Then, as each and every one
+began to roll and smoke the inevitable cigarette of the Mexican, there
+was a subtle change in manner. They smoked and looked about the camp,
+off into the woods, up at the crags, and back at the leisurely cowboys.
+They had the air of men waiting for something.
+
+“Senor,” began Don Carlos, addressing Stewart. As he spoke he swept his
+sombrero to indicate the camp circle.
+
+Madeline could not distinguish his words, but his gesture plainly
+indicated a question in regard to the rest of the camping party.
+Stewart’s reply and the wave of his hand down the trail meant that his
+party had gone home. Stewart turned to some task, and the guerrilla
+leader quietly smoked. He looked cunning and thoughtful. His men
+gradually began to manifest a restlessness, noticeable in the absence
+of former languor and slow puffing of cigarette smoke. Presently a
+big-boned man with a bullet head and a blistered red face of evil
+coarseness got up and threw away his cigarette. He was an American.
+
+“Hey, cull,” he called in loud voice, “ain’t ye goin’ to cough up a
+drink?”
+
+“My boys don’t carry liquor on the trail,” replied Stewart. He turned
+now to face the guerrillas.
+
+“Haw, haw! I heerd over in Rodeo thet ye was gittin’ to be shore some
+fer temperance,” said this fellow. “I hate to drink water, but I guess
+I’ve gotter do it.”
+
+He went to the spring, sprawled down to drink, and all of a sudden he
+thrust his arm down in the water to bring forth a basket. The cowboys
+in the hurry of packing had neglected to remove this basket; and it
+contained bottles of wine and liquors for Madeline’s guests. They had
+been submerged in the spring to keep them cold. The guerrilla fumbled
+with the lid, opened it, and then got up, uttering a loud roar of
+delight.
+
+Stewart made an almost imperceptible motion, as if to leap forward; but
+he checked the impulse, and after a quick glance at Nels he said to the
+guerrilla:
+
+“Guess my party forgot that. You’re welcome to it.” Like bees the
+guerrillas swarmed around the lucky finder of the bottles. There was
+a babel of voices. The drink did not last long, and it served only to
+liberate the spirit of recklessness. The several white outlaws began to
+prowl around the camp; some of the Mexicans did likewise; others waited,
+showing by their ill-concealed expectancy the nature of their thoughts.
+
+It was the demeanor of Stewart and his comrades that puzzled Madeline.
+Apparently they felt no anxiety or even particular interest. Don Carlos,
+who had been covertly watching them, now made his scrutiny open, even
+aggressive. He looked from Stewart to Nels and Monty, and then to the
+other cowboys. While some of his men prowled around the others watched
+him, and the waiting attitude had taken on something sinister. The
+guerrilla leader seemed undecided, but not in any sense puzzled. When he
+turned his cunning face upon Nels and Monty he had the manner of a man
+in whom decision was lacking.
+
+In her growing excitement Madeline had not clearly heard Ambrose’s low
+whispers and she made an effort to distract some of her attention from
+those below to the cowboy crouching beside her.
+
+The quality, the note of Ambrose’s whisper had changed. It had a slight
+sibilant sound.
+
+“Don’t be mad if sudden-like I clap my hands over your eyes, Miss
+Hammond,” he was saying. “Somethin’s brewin’ below. I never seen Gene
+so cool. That’s a dangerous sign in him. And look, see how the boys are
+workin’ together! Oh, it’s slow and accident-like, but I know it’s sure
+not accident. That foxy Greaser knows, too. But maybe his men don’t. If
+they are wise they haven’t sense enough to care. The Don, though—he’s
+worried. He’s not payin’ so much attention to Gene, either. It’s Nels
+and Monty he’s watchin’. And well he need do it! There, Nick and Frank
+have settled down on that log with Booly. They don’t seem to be packin’
+guns. But look how heavy their vests hang. A gun in each side! Those
+boys can pull a gun and flop over that log quicker than you can think.
+Do you notice how Nels and Monty and Gene are square between them
+guerrillas and the trail up here? It doesn’t seem on purpose, but it is.
+Look at Nels and Monty. How quiet they are confabbin’ together, payin’
+no attention to the guerrillas. I see Monty look at Gene, then I see
+Nels look at Gene. Well, it’s up to Gene. And they’re goin’ to back him.
+I reckon, Miss Hammond, there’d be dead Greasers round that camp long
+ago if Nels and Monty were foot-loose. They’re beholdin’ to Gene. That’s
+plain. And, Lord! how it tickles me to watch them! Both packin’ two
+forty-fives, butts swingin’ clear. There’s twenty-four shots in them
+four guns. And there’s twenty-three guerrillas. If Nels and Monty ever
+throw guns at that close range, why, before you’d know what was up
+there’d be a pile of Greasers. There! Stewart said something to the Don.
+I wonder what. I’ll gamble it was something to get the Don’s outfit all
+close together. Sure! Greasers have no sense. But them white guerrillas,
+they’re lookin’ some dubious. Whatever’s comin’ off will come soon, you
+can bet. I wish I was down there. But maybe it won’t come to a scrap.
+Stewart’s set on avoidin’ that. He’s a wonderful chap to get his way.
+Lord, though, I’d like to see him go after that overbearin’ Greaser!
+See! the Don can’t stand prosperity. All this strange behavior of
+cowboys is beyond his pulque-soaked brains. Then he’s a Greaser. If
+Gene doesn’t knock him on the head presently he’ll begin to get over his
+scare, even of Nels and Monty. But Gene’ll pick out the right time. And
+I’m gettin’ nervous. I want somethin’ to start. Never saw Nels in but
+one fight, then he just shot a Greaser’s arm off for tryin’ to draw
+on him. But I’ve heard all about him. And Monty! Monty’s the real
+old-fashioned gun-man. Why, none of them stories, them lies he told to
+entertain the Englishman, was a marker to what Monty has done. What I
+don’t understand is how Monty keeps so quiet and easy and peaceful-like.
+That’s not his way, with such an outfit lookin’ for trouble. O-ha! Now
+for the grand bluff. Looks like no fight at all!”
+
+The guerrilla leader had ceased his restless steps and glances, and
+turned to Stewart with something of bold resolution in his aspect.
+
+“Gracias, senor,” he said. “Adios.” He swept his sombrero in the
+direction of the trail leading down the mountain to the ranch; and as he
+completed the gesture a smile, crafty and jeering, crossed his swarthy
+face.
+
+Ambrose whispered so low that Madeline scarcely heard him. “If the
+Greaser goes that way he’ll find our horses and get wise to the trick.
+Oh, he’s wise now! But I’ll gamble he never even starts on that trail.”
+
+Neither hurriedly nor guardedly Stewart rose out of his leaning posture
+and took a couple of long strides toward Don Carlos.
+
+“Go back the way you came,” he fairly yelled; and his voice had the ring
+of a bugle.
+
+Ambrose nudged Madeline; his whisper was tense and rapid: “Don’t miss
+nothin’. Gene’s called him. Whatever’s comin’ off will be here quick as
+lightnin’. See! I guess maybe that Greaser don’t savvy good U. S. lingo.
+Look at that dirty yaller face turn green. Put one eye on Nels and
+Monty! That’s great—just to see ’em. Just as quiet and easy. But
+oh, the difference! Bent and stiff—that means every muscle is like a
+rawhide riata. They’re watchin’ with eyes that can see the workin’s of
+them Greasers’ minds. Now there ain’t a hoss-hair between them Greasers
+and hell!”
+
+Don Carlos gave Stewart one long malignant stare; then he threw back his
+head, swept up the sombrero, and his evil smile showed gleaming teeth.
+
+“Senor—” he began.
+
+With magnificent bound Stewart was upon him. The guerrilla’s cry was
+throttled in his throat. A fierce wrestling ensued, too swift to see
+clearly; then heavy, sodden blows, and Don Carlos was beaten to the
+ground. Stewart leaped back. Then, crouching with his hands on the butts
+of guns at his hips, he yelled, he thundered at the guerrillas. He had
+been quicker than a panther, and now his voice was so terrible that
+it curdled Madeline’s blood, and the menace of deadly violence in his
+crouching position made her shut her eyes. But she had to open them. In
+that single instant Nels and Monty had leaped to Stewart’s side. Both
+were bent down, with hands on the butts of guns at their hips. Nels’s
+piercing yell seemed to divide Monty’s roar of rage. Then they ceased,
+and echoes clapped from the crags. The silence of those three men
+crouching like tigers about to leap was more menacing than the
+nerve-racking yells.
+
+Then the guerrillas wavered and broke and ran for their horses. Don
+Carlos rolled over, rose, and staggered away, to be helped upon his
+mount. He looked back, his pale and bloody face that of a thwarted
+demon. The whole band got into action and were gone in a moment.
+
+“I knew it,” declared Ambrose. “Never seen a Greaser who could face
+gun-play. That was some warm. And Monty Price never flashed a gun! He’ll
+never get over that. I reckon, Miss Harnmond, we’re some lucky to avoid
+trouble. Gene had his way, as you seen. We’ll be makin’ tracks for the
+ranch in about two shakes.”
+
+“Why?” whispered Madeline, breathlessly. She became conscious that she
+was weak and shaken.
+
+“Because the guerrillas sure will get their nerve back, and come
+sneakin’ on our trail or try to head us off by ambushin’,” replied
+Ambrose. “That’s their way. Otherwise three cowboys couldn’t bluff
+a whole gang like that. Gene knows the nature of Greasers. They’re
+white-livered. But I reckon we’re in more danger now than before, unless
+we get a good start down the mountain. There! Gene’s callin’. Come!
+Hurry!”
+
+Helen had slipped down from her vantage-point, and therefore had not
+seen the last act in that little camp-fire drama. It seemed, however,
+that her desire for excitement was satisfied, for her face was pale and
+she trembled when she asked if the guerrillas were gone.
+
+“I didn’t see the finish, but those horrible yells were enough for me.”
+
+Ambrose hurried the three women over the rough rocks, down the cliff.
+The cowboys below were saddling horses in haste. Evidently all the
+horses had been brought out of hiding. Swiftly, with regard only for
+life and limb, Madeline, Helen, and Christine were lowered by lassoes
+and half carried down to the level. By the time they were safely down
+the other members of the party appeared on the cliff above. They were in
+excellent spirits, appearing to treat the matter as a huge joke.
+
+Ambrose put Christine on a horse and rode away through the pines;
+Frankie Slade did likewise with Helen. Stewart led Madeline’s horse up
+to her, helped her to mount, and spoke one stern word, “Wait!” Then as
+fast as one of the women reached the level she was put upon a horse and
+taken away by a cowboy escort. Few words were spoken. Haste seemed to
+be the great essential. The horses were urged, and, once in the trail,
+spurred and led into a swift trot. One cowboy drove up four pack-horses,
+and these were hurriedly loaded with the party’s baggage. Castleton
+and his companions mounted, and galloped off to catch the others in the
+lead. This left Madeline behind with Stewart and Nels and Monty.
+
+“They’re goin’ to switch off at the holler thet heads near the trail
+a few miles down,” Nels was saying, as he tightened his saddle-girth.
+“Thet holler heads into a big canyon. Once in thet, it’ll be every man
+fer hisself. I reckon there won’t be anythin’ wuss than a rough ride.”
+
+Nels smiled reassuringly at Madeline, but he did not speak to her. Monty
+took her canteen and filled it at the spring and hung it over the pommel
+of her saddle. He put a couple of biscuits in the saddle-bag.
+
+“Don’t fergit to take a drink an’ a bite as you’re ridin’ along,” he
+said. “An’ don’t worry, Miss Majesty. Stewart’ll be with you, an’ me an’
+Nels hangin’ on the back-trail.”
+
+His somber and sullen face did not change in its strange intensity, but
+the look in his eyes Madeline felt she would never forget. Left alone
+with these three men, now stripped of all pretense, she realized how
+fortune had favored her and what peril still hung in the balance.
+Stewart swung astride his big black, spurred him, and whistled. At the
+whistle Majesty jumped, and with swift canter followed Stewart. Madeline
+looked back to see Nels already up and Monty handing him a rifle. Then
+the pines hid her view.
+
+Once in the trail, Stewart’s horse broke into a gallop. Majesty changed
+his gait and kept at the black’s heels. Stewart called back a warning.
+The low, wide-spreading branches of trees might brush Madeline out of
+the saddle. Fast riding through the forest along a crooked, obstructed
+trail called forth all her alertness. Likewise the stirring of her
+blood, always susceptible to the spirit and motion of a ride, let alone
+one of peril, now began to throb and burn away the worry, the dread, the
+coldness that had weighted her down.
+
+Before long Stewart wheeled at right angles off the trail and entered a
+hollow between two low bluffs. Madeline saw tracks in the open patches
+of ground. Here Stewart’s horse took to a brisk walk. The hollow
+deepened, narrowed, became rocky, full of logs and brush. Madeline
+exerted all her keenness, and needed it, to keep close to Stewart. She
+did not think of him, nor her own safety, but of keeping Majesty close
+in the tracks of the black, of eluding the sharp spikes in the dead
+brush, of avoiding the treacherous loose stones.
+
+At last Madeline was brought to a dead halt by Stewart and his horse
+blocking the trail. Looking up, she saw they were at the head of a
+canyon that yawned beneath and widened its gray-walled, green-patched
+slopes down to a black forest of fir. The drab monotony of the foothills
+made contrast below the forest, and away in the distance, rosy and
+smoky, lay the desert. Retracting her gaze, Madeline saw pack-horses
+cross an open space a mile below, and she thought she saw the
+stag-hounds. Stewart’s dark eyes searched the slopes high up along the
+craggy escarpments. Then he put the black to the descent.
+
+If there had been a trail left by the leading cowboys, Stewart did
+not follow it. He led off to the right, zigzagging an intricate course
+through the roughest ground Madeline had ever ridden over. He crashed
+through cedars, threaded a tortuous way among boulders, made his horse
+slide down slanting banks of soft earth, picked a slow and cautious
+progress across weathered slopes of loose rock. Madeline followed,
+finding in this ride a tax on strength and judgment. On an ordinary
+horse she never could have kept in Stewart’s trail. It was dust and
+heat, a parching throat, that caused Madeline to think of time; and she
+was amazed to see the sun sloping to the west. Stewart never stopped;
+he never looked back; he never spoke. He must have heard the horse close
+behind him. Madeline remembered Monty’s advice about drinking and eating
+as she rode along. The worst of that rough travel came at the bottom of
+the canyon. Dead cedars and brush and logs were easy to pass compared
+with the miles, it seemed, of loose boulders. The horses slipped and
+stumbled. Stewart proceeded here with exceeding care. At last, when the
+canyon opened into a level forest of firs, the sun was setting red in
+the west.
+
+Stewart quickened the gait of his horse. After a mile or so of easy
+travel the ground again began to fall decidedly, sloping in numerous
+ridges, with draws between. Soon night shadowed the deeper gullies.
+Madeline was refreshed by the cooling of the air.
+
+Stewart traveled slowly now. The barks of coyotes seemed to startle
+him. Often he stopped to listen. And during one of those intervals the
+silence was broken by sharp rifle-shots. Madeline could not tell whether
+they were near or far, to right or left, behind or before. Evidently
+Stewart was both alarmed and baffled. He dismounted. He went cautiously
+forward to listen. Madeline fancied she heard a cry, low and far away.
+It was only that of a coyote, she convinced herself, yet it was so
+wailing, so human, that she shuddered. Stewart came back. He slipped the
+bridles of both horses, and he led them. Every few paces he stopped to
+listen. He changed his direction several times, and the last time he got
+among rough, rocky ridges. The iron shoes of the horses cracked on the
+rocks. That sound must have penetrated far into the forest. It perturbed
+Stewart, for he searched for softer ground. Meanwhile the shadows merged
+into darkness. The stars shone. The wind rose. Madeline believed hours
+passed.
+
+Stewart halted again. In the gloom Madeline discerned a log cabin, and
+beyond it pear-pointed dark trees piercing the sky-line. She could just
+make out Stewart’s tall form as he leaned against his horse. Either he
+was listening or debating what to do—perhaps both. Presently he went
+inside the cabin. Madeline heard the scratching of a match; then she saw
+a faint light. The cabin appeared to be deserted. Probably it was one of
+the many habitations belonging to prospectors and foresters who lived in
+the mountains. Stewart came out again. He walked around the horses, out
+into the gloom, then back to Madeline. For a long moment he stood as
+still as a statue and listened. Then she heard him mutter, “If we have
+to start quick I can ride bareback.” With that he took the saddle and
+blanket off his horse and carried them into the cabin.
+
+“Get off,” he said, in a low voice, as he stepped out of the door.
+
+He helped her down and led her inside, where again he struck a match.
+Madeline caught a glimpse of a rude fireplace and rough-hewn logs.
+Stewart’s blanket and saddle lay on the hard-packed earthen floor.
+
+“Rest a little,” he said. “I’m going into the woods a piece to listen.
+Gone only a minute or so.”
+
+Madeline had to feel round in the dark to locate the saddle and blanket.
+When she lay down it was with a grateful sense of ease and relief. As
+her body rested, however, her mind became the old thronging maze for
+sensation and thought. All day she had attended to the alert business
+of helping her horse. Now, what had already happened, the night, the
+silence, the proximity of Stewart and his strange, stern caution, the
+possible happenings to her friends—all claimed their due share of her
+feeling. She went over them all with lightning swiftness of thought. She
+believed, and she was sure Stewart believed, that her friends, owing to
+their quicker start down the mountain, had not been headed off in their
+travel by any of the things which had delayed Stewart. This conviction
+lifted the suddenly returning dread from her breast; and as for herself,
+somehow she had no fear. But she could not sleep; she did not try to.
+
+Stewart’s soft steps sounded outside. His dark form loomed in the door.
+As he sat down Madeline heard the thump of a gun that he laid beside
+him on the sill; then the thump of another as he put that down, too.
+The sounds thrilled her. Stewart’s wide shoulders filled the door; his
+finely shaped head and strong, stern profile showed clearly in outline
+against the sky; the wind waved his hair. He turned his ear to that wind
+and listened. Motionless he sat for what to her seemed hours.
+
+Then the stirring memory of the day’s adventure, the feeling of
+the beauty of the night, and a strange, deep-seated, sweetly vague
+consciousness of happiness portending, were all burned out in hot,
+pressing pain at the remembrance of Stewart’s disgrace in her eyes.
+Something had changed within her so that what had been anger at herself
+was sorrow for him. He was such a splendid man. She could not feel the
+same; she knew her debt to him, yet she could not thank him, could not
+speak to him. She fought an unintelligible bitterness.
+
+Then she rested with closed eyes, and time seemed neither short nor
+long. When Stewart called her she opened her eyes to see the gray of
+dawn. She rose and stepped outside. The horses whinnied. In a moment she
+was in the saddle, aware of cramped muscles and a weariness of limbs.
+Stewart led off at a sharp trot into the fir forest. They came to a
+trail into which he turned. The horses traveled steadily; the descent
+grew less steep; the firs thinned out; the gray gloom brightened.
+
+When Madeline rode out of the firs the sun had arisen and the foothills
+rolled beneath her; and at their edge, where the gray of valley began,
+she saw a dark patch that she knew was the ranch-house.
+
+
+
+
+XX. The Sheriff of El Cajon
+
+
+About the middle of the forenoon of that day Madeline reached the ranch.
+Her guests had all arrived there late the night before, and wanted only
+her presence and the assurance of her well-being to consider the last of
+the camping trip a rare adventure. Likewise, they voted it the cowboys’
+masterpiece of a trick. Madeline’s delay, they averred, had been only
+a clever coup to give a final effect. She did not correct their
+impression, nor think it needful to state that she had been escorted
+home by only one cowboy.
+
+Her guests reported an arduous ride down the mountain, with only one
+incident to lend excitement. On the descent they had fallen in with
+Sheriff Hawe and several of his deputies, who were considerably under
+the influence of drink and very greatly enraged by the escape of the
+Mexican girl Bonita. Hawe had used insulting language to the ladies
+and, according to Ambrose, would have inconvenienced the party on some
+pretext or other if he had not been sharply silenced by the cowboys.
+
+Madeline’s guests were two days in recovering from the hard ride. On the
+third day they leisurely began to prepare for departure. This period was
+doubly trying for Madeline. She had her own physical need of rest, and,
+moreover, had to face a mental conflict that could scarcely be postponed
+further. Her sister and friends were kindly and earnestly persistent in
+their entreaties that she go back East with them. She desired to go.
+It was not going that mattered; it was how and when and under what
+circumstances she was to return that roused in her disturbing emotion.
+Before she went East she wanted to have fixed in mind her future
+relation to the ranch and the West. When the crucial hour arrived she
+found that the West had not claimed her yet. These old friends had
+warmed cold ties.
+
+It turned out, however, that there need be no hurry about making the
+decision. Madeline would have welcomed any excuse to procrastinate;
+but, as it happened, a letter from Alfred made her departure out of the
+question for the present. He wrote that his trip to California had been
+very profitable, that he had a proposition for Madeline from a large
+cattle company, and, particularly, that he wanted to marry Florence soon
+after his arrival home and would bring a minister from Douglas for that
+purpose.
+
+Madeline went so far, however, as to promise Helen and her friends that
+she would go East soon, at the very latest by Thanksgiving. With that
+promise they were reluctantly content to say good-by to the ranch and
+to her. At the last moment there seemed a great likelihood of a hitch
+in plans for the first stage of that homeward journey. All of Madeline’s
+guests held up their hands, Western fashion, when Link Stevens appeared
+with the big white car. Link protested innocently, solemnly, that he
+would drive slowly and safely; but it was necessary for Madeline to
+guarantee Link’s word and to accompany them before they would enter the
+car. At the station good-bys were spoken and repeated, and Madeline’s
+promise was exacted for the hundredth time.
+
+Dorothy Coombs’s last words were: “Give my love to Monty Price. Tell him
+I’m—I’m glad he kissed me!”
+
+Helen’s eyes had a sweet, grave, yet mocking light as she said:
+
+“Majesty, bring Stewart with you when you come. He’ll be the rage.”
+
+Madeline treated the remark with the same merry lightness with which it
+was received by the others; but after the train had pulled out and
+she was on her way home she remembered Helen’s words and looks with
+something almost amounting to a shock. Any mention of Stewart, any
+thought of him, displeased her.
+
+“What did Helen mean?” mused Madeline. And she pondered. That mocking
+light in Helen’s eyes had been simply an ironical glint, a cynical gleam
+from that worldly experience so suspicious and tolerant in its wisdom.
+The sweet gravity of Helen’s look had been a deeper and more subtle
+thing. Madeline wanted to understand it, to divine in it a new relation
+between Helen and herself, something fine and sisterly that might lead
+to love. The thought, however, revolving around a strange suggestion of
+Stewart, was poisoned at its inception, and she dismissed it.
+
+Upon the drive in to the ranch, as she was passing the lower lake, she
+saw Stewart walking listlessly along the shore. When he became aware of
+the approach of the car he suddenly awakened from his aimless sauntering
+and disappeared quickly in the shade of the shrubbery. This was not by
+any means the first time Madeline had seen him avoid a possible meeting
+with her. Somehow the act had pained her, though affording her a relief.
+She did not want to meet him face to face.
+
+It was annoying for her to guess that Stillwell had something to say in
+Stewart’s defense. The old cattleman was evidently distressed. Several
+times he had tried to open a conversation with Madeline relating to
+Stewart; she had evaded him until the last time, when his persistence
+had brought a cold and final refusal to hear another word about the
+foreman. Stillwell had been crushed.
+
+As days passed Stewart remained at the ranch without his old
+faithfulness to his work. Madeline was not moved to a kinder frame of
+mind to see him wandering dejectedly around. It hurt her, and because
+it hurt her she grew all the harder. Then she could not help hearing
+snatches of conversation which strengthened her suspicions that Stewart
+was losing his grip on himself, that he would soon take the downward
+course again. Verification of her own suspicion made it a belief, and
+belief brought about a sharp conflict between her generosity and some
+feeling that she could not name. It was not a question of justice
+or mercy or sympathy. If a single word could have saved Stewart from
+sinking his splendid manhood into the brute she had recoiled from at
+Chiricahua, she would not have spoken it. She could not restore him to
+his former place in her regard; she really did not want him at the
+ranch at all. Once, considering in wonder her knowledge of men, she
+interrogated herself to see just why she could not overlook Stewart’s
+transgression. She never wanted to speak to him again, or see him, or
+think of him. In some way, through her interest in Stewart, she had come
+to feel for herself an inexplicable thing close to scorn.
+
+A telegram from Douglas, heralding the coming of Alfred and a minister,
+put an end to Madeline’s brooding, and she shared something of Florence
+Kingsley’s excitement. The cowboys were as eager and gossipy as girls.
+It was arranged to have the wedding ceremony performed in Madeline’s
+great hall-chamber, and the dinner in the cool, flower-scented patio.
+
+Alfred and his minister arrived at the ranch in the big white car. They
+appeared considerably wind-blown. In fact, the minister was breathless,
+almost sightless, and certainly hatless. Alfred, used as he was to wind
+and speed, remarked that he did not wonder at Nels’s aversion to riding
+a fleeting cannon-ball. The imperturbable Link took off his cap and
+goggles and, consulting his watch, made his usual apologetic report to
+Madeline, deploring the fact that a teamster and a few stray cattle on
+the road had held him down to the manana time of only a mile a minute.
+
+Arrangements for the wedding brought Alfred’s delighted approval. When
+he had learned all Florence and Madeline would tell him he expressed
+a desire to have the cowboys attend; and then he went on to talk about
+California, where he was going take Florence on a short trip. He was
+curiously interested to find out all about Madeline’s guests and what
+had happened to them. His keen glance at Madeline grew softer as she
+talked.
+
+“I breathe again,” he said, and laughed. “I was afraid. Well, I must
+have missed some sport. I can just fancy what Monty and Nels did to that
+Englishman. So you went up to the crags. That’s a wild place. I’m not
+surprised at guerrillas falling in with you up there. The crags were
+a famous rendezvous for Apaches—it’s near the border—almost
+inaccessible—good water and grass. I wonder what the U. S. cavalry
+would think if they knew these guerrillas crossed the border right under
+their noses. Well, it’s practically impossible to patrol some of that
+border-line. It’s desert, mountain, and canyon, exceedingly wild and
+broken. I’m sorry to say that there seems to be more trouble in sight
+with these guerrillas than at any time heretofore. Orozco, the rebel
+leader, has failed to withstand Madero’s army. The Federals are
+occupying Chihuahua now, and are driving the rebels north. Orozco has
+broken up his army into guerrilla bands. They are moving north and west,
+intending to carry on guerrilla warfare in Sonora. I can’t say just how
+this will affect us here. But we’re too close to the border for comfort.
+These guerrillas are night-riding hawks; they can cross the border, raid
+us here, and get back the same night. Fighting, I imagine, will not
+be restricted to northern Mexico. With the revolution a failure the
+guerrillas will be more numerous, bolder, and hungrier. Unfortunately,
+we happen to be favorably situated for them down here in this wilderness
+corner of the state.”
+
+On the following day Alfred and Florence were married. Florence’s
+sister and several friends from El Cajon were present, besides Madeline,
+Stillwell, and his men. It was Alfred’s express wish that Stewart
+attend the ceremony. Madeline was amused when she noticed the painfully
+suppressed excitement of the cowboys. For them a wedding must have
+been an unusual and impressive event. She began to have a better
+understanding of the nature of it when they cast off restraint and
+pressed forward to kiss the bride. In all her life Madeline had never
+seen a bride kissed so much and so heartily, nor one so flushed and
+disheveled and happy. This indeed was a joyful occasion. There was
+nothing of the “effete East” about Alfred Hammond; he might have been a
+Westerner all his days. When Madeline managed to get through the press
+of cowboys to offer her congratulations Alfred gave her a bear hug and
+a kiss. This appeared to fascinate the cowboys. With shining eyes
+and faces aglow, with smiling, boyish boldness, they made a rush at
+Madeline. For one instant her heart leaped to her throat. They looked
+as if they could most shamelessly kiss and maul her. That little,
+ugly-faced, soft-eyed, rude, tender-hearted ruffian, Monty Price, was
+in the lead. He resembled a dragon actuated by sentiment. All at once
+Madeline’s instinctive antagonism to being touched by strange hands or
+lips battled with a real, warm, and fun-loving desire to let the cowboys
+work their will with her. But she saw Stewart hanging at the back of the
+crowd, and something—some fierce, dark expression of pain—amazed her,
+while it froze her desire to be kind. Then she did not know what change
+must have come to her face and bearing; but she saw Monty fall back
+sheepishly and the other cowboys draw aside to let her lead the way into
+the patio.
+
+The dinner began quietly enough with the cowboys divided between
+embarrassment and voracious appetites that they evidently feared to
+indulge. Wine, however, loosened their tongues, and when Stillwell got
+up to make the speech everybody seemed to expect of him they greeted him
+with a roar.
+
+Stillwell was now one huge, mountainous smile. He was so happy that he
+appeared on the verge of tears. He rambled on ecstatically till he came
+to raise his glass.
+
+“An’ now, girls an’ boys, let’s all drink to the bride an’ groom; to
+their sincere an’ lastin’ love; to their happiness an’ prosperity; to
+their good health an’ long life. Let’s drink to the unitin’ of the East
+with the West. No man full of red blood an’ the real breath of life
+could resist a Western girl an’ a good hoss an’ God’s free hand—that
+open country out there. So we claim Al Hammond, an’ may we be true to
+him. An’, friends, I think it fittin’ that we drink to his sister an’ to
+our hopes. Heah’s to the lady we hope to make our Majesty! Heah’s to the
+man who’ll come ridin’ out of the West, a fine, big-hearted man with a
+fast hoss an’ a strong rope, an’ may he win an’ hold her! Come, friends,
+drink.”
+
+A heavy pound of horses’ hoofs and a yell outside arrested Stillwell’s
+voice and halted his hand in midair.
+
+The patio became as silent as an unoccupied room.
+
+Through the open doors and windows of Madeline’s chamber burst the
+sounds of horses stamping to a halt, then harsh speech of men, and a low
+cry of a woman in pain.
+
+Rapid steps crossed the porch, entered Madeline’s room. Nels appeared in
+the doorway. Madeline was surprised to see that he had not been at the
+dinner-table. She was disturbed at sight of his face.
+
+“Stewart, you’re wanted outdoors,” called Nels, bluntly. “Monty, you
+slope out here with me. You, Nick, an’ Stillwell—I reckon the rest of
+you hed better shut the doors an’ stay inside.”
+
+Nels disappeared. Quick as a cat Monty glided out. Madeline heard his
+soft, swift steps pass from her room into her office. He had left
+his guns there. Madeline trembled. She saw Stewart get up quietly and
+without any change of expression on his dark, sad face leave the patio.
+Nick Steele followed him. Stillwell dropped his wine-glass. As it broke,
+shivering the silence, his huge smile vanished. His face set into the
+old cragginess and the red slowly thickened into black. Stillwell went
+out and closed the door behind him.
+
+Then there was a blank silence. The enjoyment of the moment had been
+rudely disrupted. Madeline glanced down the lines of brown faces to see
+the pleasure fade into the old familiar hardness.
+
+“What’s wrong?” asked Alfred, rather stupidly. The change of mood had
+been too rapid for him. Suddenly he awakened, thoroughly aroused at
+the interruption. “I’m going to see who’s butted in here to spoil our
+dinner,” he said, and strode out.
+
+He returned before any one at the table had spoken or moved, and now the
+dull red of anger mottled his forehead.
+
+“It’s the sheriff of El Cajon!” he exclaimed, contemptuously. “Pat Hawe
+with some of his tough deputies come to arrest Gene Stewart. They’ve got
+that poor little Mexican girl out there tied on a horse. Confound that
+sheriff!”
+
+Madeline calmly rose from the table, eluding Florence’s entreating
+hand, and started for the door. The cowboys jumped up. Alfred barred her
+progress.
+
+“Alfred, I am going out,” she said.
+
+“No, I guess not,” he replied. “That’s no place for you.”
+
+“I am going.” She looked straight at him.
+
+“Madeline! Why, what is it? You look—Dear, there’s pretty sure to be
+trouble outside. Maybe there’ll be a fight. You can do nothing. You must
+not go.”
+
+“Perhaps I can prevent trouble,” she replied.
+
+As she left the patio she was aware that Alfred, with Florence at his
+side and the cowboys behind, were starting to follow her. When she got
+out of her room upon the porch she heard several men in loud, angry
+discussion. Then, at sight of Bonita helplessly and cruelly bound upon
+a horse, pale and disheveled and suffering, Madeline experienced the
+thrill that sight or mention of this girl always gave her. It yielded to
+a hot pang in her breast—that live pain which so shamed her. But almost
+instantly, as a second glance showed an agony in Bonita’s face, her
+bruised arms where the rope bit deep into the flesh, her little
+brown hands stained with blood, Madeline was overcome by pity for the
+unfortunate girl and a woman’s righteous passion at such barbarous
+treatment of one of her own sex.
+
+The man holding the bridle of the horse on which Bonita had been bound
+was at once recognized by Madeline as the big-bodied, bullet-headed
+guerrilla who had found the basket of wine in the spring at camp.
+Redder of face, blacker of beard, coarser of aspect, evidently under
+the influence of liquor, he was as fierce-looking as a gorilla and as
+repulsive. Besides him there were three other men present, all mounted
+on weary horses. The one in the foreground, gaunt, sharp-featured,
+red-eyed, with a pointed beard, she recognized as the sheriff of El
+Cajon.
+
+Madeline hesitated, then stopped in the middle of the porch. Alfred,
+Florence, and several others followed her out; the rest of the cowboys
+and guests crowded the windows and doors. Stillwell saw Madeline,
+and, throwing up his hands, roared to be heard. This quieted the
+gesticulating, quarreling men.
+
+“Wal now, Pat Hawe, what’s drivin’ you like a locoed steer on the
+rampage?” demanded Stillwell.
+
+“Keep in the traces, Bill,” replied Hawe. “You savvy what I come fer.
+I’ve been bidin’ my time. But I’m ready now. I’m hyar to arrest a
+criminal.”
+
+The huge frame of the old cattleman jerked as if he had been stabbed.
+His face turned purple.
+
+“What criminal?” he shouted, hoarsely.
+
+The sheriff flicked his quirt against his dirty boot, and he twisted his
+thin lips into a leer. The situation was agreeable to him.
+
+“Why, Bill, I knowed you hed a no-good outfit ridin’ this range; but I
+wasn’t wise thet you hed more ’n one criminal.”
+
+“Cut that talk! Which cowboy are you wantin’ to arrest?”
+
+Hawe’s manner altered.
+
+“Gene Stewart,” he replied, curtly.
+
+“On what charge?”
+
+“Fer killin’ a Greaser one night last fall.”
+
+“So you’re still harpin’ on that? Pat, you’re on the wrong trail. You
+can’t lay that killin’ onto Stewart. The thing’s ancient by now. But
+if you insist on bringin’ him to court, let the arrest go to-day—we’re
+hevin’ some fiesta hyar—an’ I’ll fetch Gene in to El Cajon.”
+
+“Nope. I reckon I’ll take him when I got the chance, before he slopes.”
+
+“I’m givin’ you my word,” thundered Stillwell.
+
+“I reckon I don’t hev to take your word, Bill, or anybody else’s.”
+
+Stillwell’s great bulk quivered with his rage, yet he made a successful
+effort to control it.
+
+“See hyar, Pat Hawe, I know what’s reasonable. Law is law. But in this
+country there always has been an’ is now a safe an’ sane way to proceed
+with the law. Mebbe you’ve forgot that. The law as invested in one
+man in a wild country is liable, owin’ to that man’s weaknesses an’
+onlimited authority, to be disputed even by a decent ole cattleman like
+myself. I’m a-goin’ to give you a hunch. Pat, you’re not overliked in
+these parts. You’ve rid too much with a high hand. Some of your deals
+hev been shady, an’ don’t you overlook what I’m sayin’. But you’re the
+sheriff, an’ I’m respectin’ your office. I’m respectin’ it this much. If
+the milk of human decency is so soured in your breast that you can’t hev
+a kind feelin’, then try to avoid the onpleasantness that’ll result from
+any contrary move on your part to-day. Do you get that hunch?”
+
+“Stillwell, you’re threatenin’ an officer,” replied Hawe, angrily.
+
+“Will you hit the trail quick out of hyar?” queried Stillwell, in
+strained voice. “I guarantee Stewart’s appearance in El Cajon any day
+you say.”
+
+“No. I come to arrest him, an’ I’m goin’ to.”
+
+“So that’s your game!” shouted Stillwell. “We-all are glad to get you
+straight, Pat. Now listen, you cheap, red-eyed coyote of a sheriff! You
+don’t care how many enemies you make. You know you’ll never get office
+again in this county. What do you care now? It’s amazin’ strange how
+earnest you are to hunt down the man who killed that particular Greaser.
+I reckon there’s been some dozen or more killin’s of Greasers in the
+last year. Why don’t you take to trailin’ some of them killin’s? I’ll
+tell you why. You’re afraid to go near the border. An’ your hate of Gene
+Stewart makes you want to hound him an’ put him where he’s never
+been yet—in jail. You want to spite his friends. Wal, listen, you
+lean-jawed, skunk-bitten coyote! Go ahead an’ try to arrest him!”
+
+Stillwell took one mighty stride off the porch. His last words had been
+cold. His rage appeared to have been transferred to Hawe. The sheriff
+had begun to stutter and shake a lanky red hand at the cattleman when
+Stewart stepped out.
+
+“Here, you fellows, give me a chance to say a word.”
+
+As Stewart appeared the Mexican girl suddenly seemed vitalized out
+of her stupor. She strained at her bonds, as if to lift her hands
+beseechingly. A flush animated her haggard face, and her big dark eyes
+lighted.
+
+“Senor Gene!” she moaned. “Help me! I so seek. They beat me, rope me,
+‘mos’ keel me. Oh, help me, Senor Gene!”
+
+“Shut up, er I’ll gag you,” said the man who held Bonita’s horse.
+
+“Muzzle her, Sneed, if she blabs again,” called Hawe. Madeline felt
+something tense and strained working in the short silence. Was it only a
+phase of her thrilling excitement? Her swift glance showed the faces of
+Nels and Monty and Nick to be brooding, cold, watchful. She wondered why
+Stewart did not look toward Bonita. He, too, was now dark-faced, cool,
+quiet, with something ominous about him.
+
+“Hawe, I’ll submit to arrest without any fuss,” he said, slowly, “if
+you’ll take the ropes off that girl.”
+
+“Nope,” replied the sheriff. “She got away from me onct. She’s hawg-tied
+now, an’ she’ll stay hawg-tied.”
+
+Madeline thought she saw Stewart give a slight start. But an
+unaccountable dimness came over her eyes, at brief intervals obscuring
+her keen sight. Vaguely she was conscious of a clogged and beating
+tumult in her breast.
+
+“All right, let’s hurry out of here,” said Stewart. “You’ve made
+annoyance enough. Ride down to the corral with me. I’ll get my horse and
+go with you.”
+
+“Hold on!” yelled Hawe, as Stewart turned away. “Not so fast. Who’s
+doin’ this? You don’t come no El Capitan stunts on me. You’ll ride one
+of my pack-horses, an’ you’ll go in irons.”
+
+“You want to handcuff me?” queried Stewart, with sudden swift start of
+passion.
+
+“Want to? Haw, haw! Nope, Stewart, thet’s jest my way with hoss-thieves,
+raiders, Greasers, murderers, an’ sich. See hyar, you Sneed, git off an’
+put the irons on this man.”
+
+The guerrilla called Sneed slid off his horse and began to fumble in his
+saddle-bags.
+
+“You see, Bill,” went on Hawe, “I swore in a new depooty fer this
+particular job. Sneed is some handy. He rounded up thet little Mexican
+cat fer me.”
+
+Stillwell did not hear the sheriff; he was gazing at Stewart in a kind
+of imploring amaze.
+
+“Gene, you ain’t goin’ to stand fer them handcuffs?” he pleaded.
+
+“Yes,” replied the cowboy. “Bill, old friend, I’m an outsider here.
+There’s no call for Miss Hammond and—and her brother and Florence to be
+worried further about me. Their happy day has already been spoiled on my
+account. I want to get out quick.”
+
+“Wal, you might be too damn considerate of Miss Hammond’s sensitive
+feelin’s.” There was now no trace of the courteous, kindly old rancher.
+He looked harder than stone. “How about my feelin’s? I want to know
+if you’re goin’ to let this sneakin’ coyote, this last gasp of the old
+rum-guzzlin’ frontier sheriffs, put you in irons an’ hawg-tie you an’
+drive you off to jail?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Stewart, steadily.
+
+“Wal, by Gawd! You, Gene Stewart! What’s come over you? Why, man, go in
+the house, an’ I’ll ’tend to this feller. Then to-morrow you can ride in
+an’ give yourself up like a gentleman.”
+
+“No. I’ll go. Thanks, Bill, for the way you and the boys would stick to
+me. Hurry, Hawe, before my mind changes.”
+
+His voice broke at the last, betraying the wonderful control he had kept
+over his passions. As he ceased speaking he seemed suddenly to become
+spiritless. He dropped his head.
+
+Madeline saw in him then a semblance to the hopeless, shamed Stewart of
+earlier days. The vague riot in her breast leaped into conscious fury—a
+woman’s passionate repudiation of Stewart’s broken spirit. It was not
+that she would have him be a lawbreaker; it was that she could not bear
+to see him deny his manhood. Once she had entreated him to become her
+kind of a cowboy—a man in whom reason tempered passion. She had let him
+see how painful and shocking any violence was to her. And the idea had
+obsessed him, softened him, had grown like a stultifying lichen upon his
+will, had shorn him of a wild, bold spirit she now strangely longed
+to see him feel. When the man Sneed came forward, jingling the iron
+fetters, Madeline’s blood turned to fire. She would have forgiven
+Stewart then for lapsing into the kind of cowboy it had been her blind
+and sickly sentiment to abhor. This was a man’s West—a man’s game.
+What right had a woman reared in a softer mold to use her beauty and
+her influence to change a man who was bold and free and strong? At that
+moment, with her blood hot and racing, she would have gloried in the
+violence which she had so deplored: she would have welcomed the action
+that had characterized Stewart’s treatment of Don Carlos; she had in her
+the sudden dawning temper of a woman who had been assimilating the life
+and nature around her and who would not have turned her eyes away from a
+harsh and bloody deed.
+
+But Stewart held forth his hands to be manacled. Then Madeline heard her
+own voice burst out in a ringing, imperious “Wait!”
+
+In the time it took her to make the few steps to the edge of the porch,
+facing the men, she not only felt her anger and justice and pride
+summoning forces to her command, but there was something else calling—a
+deep, passionate, mysterious thing not born of the moment.
+
+Sneed dropped the manacles. Stewart’s face took on a chalky whiteness.
+Hawe, in a slow, stupid embarrassment beyond his control, removed his
+sombrero in a respect that seemed wrenched from him.
+
+“Mr. Hawe, I can prove to you that Stewart was not concerned in any way
+whatever with the crime for which you want to arrest him.”
+
+The sheriff’s stare underwent a blinking change. He coughed, stammered,
+and tried to speak. Manifestly, he had been thrown completely off his
+balance. Astonishment slowly merged into discomfiture.
+
+“It was absolutely impossible for Stewart to have been connected with
+that assault,” went on Madeline, swiftly, “for he was with me in the
+waiting-room of the station at the moment the assault was made outside.
+I assure you I have a distinct and vivid recollection. The door was
+open. I heard the voices of quarreling men. They grew louder. The
+language was Spanish. Evidently these men had left the dance-hall
+opposite and were approaching the station. I heard a woman’s voice
+mingling with the others. It, too, was Spanish, and I could not
+understand. But the tone was beseeching. Then I heard footsteps on
+the gravel. I knew Stewart heard them. I could see from his face that
+something dreadful was about to happen. Just outside the door then there
+were hoarse, furious voices, a scuffle, a muffled shot, a woman’s cry,
+the thud of a falling body, and rapid footsteps of a man running away.
+Next, the girl Bonita staggered into the door. She was white, trembling,
+terror-stricken. She recognized Stewart, appealed to him. Stewart
+supported her and endeavored to calm her. He was excited. He asked her
+if Danny Mains had been shot, or if he had done the shooting. The girl
+said no. She told Stewart that she had danced a little, flirted a little
+with vaqueros, and they had quarreled over her. Then Stewart took her
+outside and put her upon his horse. I saw the girl ride that horse down
+the street to disappear in the darkness.”
+
+While Madeline spoke another change appeared to be working in the man
+Hawe. He was not long disconcerted, but his discomfiture wore to a
+sullen fury, and his sharp features fixed in an expression of craft.
+
+“Thet’s mighty interestin’, Miss Hammond, ‘most as interestin’ as a
+story-book,” he said. “Now, since you’re so obligin’ a witness, I’d sure
+like to put a question or two. What time did you arrive at El Cajon thet
+night?”
+
+“It was after eleven o’clock,” replied Madeline.
+
+“Nobody there to meet you?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“The station agent an’ operator both gone?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Wal, how soon did this feller Stewart show up?” Hawe continued, with a
+wry smile.
+
+“Very soon after my arrival. I think—perhaps fifteen minutes, possibly
+a little more.”
+
+“Some dark an’ lonesome around thet station, wasn’t it?”
+
+“Indeed yes.”
+
+“An’ what time was the Greaser shot?” queried Hawe, with his little eyes
+gleaming like coals.
+
+“Probably close to half past one. It was two o’clock when I looked at my
+watch at Florence Kingsley’s house. Directly after Stewart sent Bonita
+away he took me to Miss Kingsley’s. So, allowing for the walk and a few
+minutes’ conversation with her, I can pretty definitely say the shooting
+took place at about half past one.”
+
+Stillwell heaved his big frame a step closer to the sheriff. “What ‘re
+you drivin’ at?” he roared, his face black again.
+
+“Evidence,” snapped Hawe.
+
+Madeline marveled at this interruption; and as Stewart irresistibly drew
+her glance she saw him gray-faced as ashes, shaking, utterly unnerved.
+
+“I thank you, Miss Hammond,” he said, huskily. “But you needn’t answer
+any more of Hawe’s questions. He’s—he’s—It’s not necessary. I’ll go
+with him now, under arrest. Bonita will corroborate your testimony in
+court, and that will save me from this—this man’s spite.”
+
+Madeline, looking at Stewart, seeing a humility she at first took for
+cowardice, suddenly divined that it was not fear for himself which made
+him dread further disclosures of that night, but fear for her—fear of
+shame she might suffer through him.
+
+Pat Hawe cocked his head to one side, like a vulture about to strike
+with his beak, and cunningly eyed Madeline.
+
+“Considered as testimony, what you’ve said is sure important an’
+conclusive. But I’m calculatin’ thet the court will want to hev
+explained why you stayed from eleven-thirty till one-thirty in thet
+waitin’-room alone with Stewart.”
+
+His deliberate speech met with what Madeline imagined a remarkable
+reception from Stewart, who gave a tigerish start; from Stillwell, whose
+big hands tore at the neck of his shirt, as if he was choking; from
+Alfred, who now strode hotly forward, to be stopped by the cold and
+silent Nels; from Monty Price, who uttered a violent “Aw!” which was
+both a hiss and a roar.
+
+In the rush of her thought Madeline could not interpret the meaning
+of these things which seemed so strange at that moment. But they were
+portentous. Even as she was forming a reply to Hawe’s speech she felt a
+chill creep over her.
+
+“Stewart detained me in the waiting-room,” she said, clear-voiced as a
+bell. “But we were not alone—all the time.”
+
+For a moment the only sound following her words was a gasp from Stewart.
+Hawe’s face became transformed with a hideous amaze and joy.
+
+“Detained?” he whispered, craning his lean and corded neck. “How’s
+thet?”
+
+“Stewart was drunk. He—”
+
+With sudden passionate gesture of despair Stewart appealed to her:
+
+“Oh, Miss Hammond, don’t! don’t! DON’T!...”
+
+Then he seemed to sink down, head lowered upon his breast, in utter
+shame. Stillwell’s great hand swept to the bowed shoulder, and he turned
+to Madeline.
+
+“Miss Majesty, I reckon you’d be wise to tell all,” said the old
+cattleman, gravely. “There ain’t one of us who could misunderstand any
+motive or act of yours. Mebbe a stroke of lightnin’ might clear this
+murky air. Whatever Gene Stewart did that onlucky night—you tell it.”
+
+Madeline’s dignity and self-possession had been disturbed by Stewart’s
+importunity. She broke into swift, disconnected speech:
+
+“He came into the station—a few minutes after I got there. I asked-to
+be shown to a hotel. He said there wasn’t any that would accommodate
+married women. He grasped my hand—looked for a wedding-ring. Then I saw
+he was—he was intoxicated. He told me he would go for a hotel
+porter. But he came back with a padre—Padre Marcos. The poor priest
+was—terribly frightened. So was I. Stewart had turned into a devil. He
+fired his gun at the padre’s feet. He pushed me into a bench. Again he
+shot—right before my face. I—I nearly fainted. But I heard him cursing
+the padre—heard the padre praying or chanting—I didn’t know what.
+Stewart tried to make me say things in Spanish. All at once he asked my
+name. I told him. He jerked at my veil. I took it off. Then he threw
+his gun down—pushed the padre out of the door. That was just before the
+vaqueros approached with Bonita. Padre Marcos must have seen them—must
+have heard them. After that Stewart grew quickly sober. He was
+mortified—distressed—stricken with shame. He told me he had been
+drinking at a wedding—I remember, it was Ed Linton’s wedding. Then he
+explained—the boys were always gambling—he wagered he would marry the
+first girl who arrived at El Cajon. I happened to be the first one. He
+tried to force me to marry him. The rest—relating to the assault on the
+vaquero—I have already told you.”
+
+Madeline ended, out of breath and panting, with her hands pressed upon
+her heaving bosom. Revelation of that secret liberated emotion; those
+hurried outspoken words had made her throb and tremble and burn.
+Strangely then she thought of Alfred and his wrath. But he stood
+motionless, as if dazed. Stillwell was trying to holster up the crushed
+Stewart.
+
+Hawe rolled his red eyes and threw back his head.
+
+“Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho, ho! Say, Sneed, you didn’t miss any of it, did ye?
+Haw, haw! Best I ever heerd in all my born days. Ho, ho!”
+
+Then he ceased laughing, and with glinting gaze upon Madeline, insolent
+and vicious and savage, he began to drawl:
+
+“Wal now, my lady, I reckon your story, if it tallies with Bonita’s an’
+Padre Marcos’s, will clear Gene Stewart in the eyes of the court.”
+ Here he grew slower, more biting, sharper and harder of face. “But
+you needn’t expect Pat Hawe or the court to swaller thet part of your
+story—about bein’ detained unwillin’!”
+
+Madeline had not time to grasp the sense of his last words. Stewart
+had convulsively sprung upward, white as chalk. As he leaped at Hawe
+Stillwell interposed his huge bulk and wrapped his arms around Stewart.
+There was a brief, whirling, wrestling struggle. Stewart appeared to be
+besting the old cattleman.
+
+“Help, boys, help!” yelled Stillwell. “I can’t hold him. Hurry, or
+there’s goin’ to be blood spilled!”
+
+Nick Steele and several cowboys leaped to Stillwell’s assistance.
+Stewart, getting free, tossed one aside and then another. They closed
+in on him. For an instant a furious straining wrestle of powerful bodies
+made rasp and shock and blow. Once Stewart heaved them from him. But
+they plunged back upon him—conquered him.
+
+“Gene! Why, Gene!” panted the old cattleman. “Sure you’re locoed—to
+act this way. Cool down! Cool down! Why, boy, it’s all right. Jest
+stand still—give us a chance to talk to you. It’s only ole Bill, you
+know—your ole pal who’s tried to be a daddy to you. He’s only wantin’
+you to hev sense—to be cool—to wait.”
+
+“Let me go! Let me go!” cried Stewart; and the poignancy of that cry
+pierced Madeline’s heart. “Let me go, Bill, if you’re my friend. I saved
+your life once—over in the desert. You swore you’d never forget. Boys,
+make him let me go! Oh, I don’t care what Hawe’s said or done to me! It
+was that about her! Are you all a lot of Greasers? How can you stand it?
+Damn you for a lot of cowards! There’s a limit, I tell you.” Then his
+voice broke, fell to a whisper. “Bill, dear old Bill, let me go. I’ll
+kill him! You know I’ll kill him!”
+
+“Gene, I know you’d kill him if you hed an even break,” replied
+Stillwell, soothingly. “But, Gene, why, you ain’t even packin’ a gun!
+An’ there’s Pat lookin’ nasty, with his hand nervous-like. He seen you
+hed no gun. He’d jump at the chance to plug you now, an’ then holler
+about opposition to the law. Cool down, son; it’ll all come right.”
+
+Suddenly Madeline was transfixed by a terrible sound.
+
+Her startled glance shifted from the anxious group round Stewart to see
+that Monty Price had leaped off the porch. He crouched down with his
+bands below his hips, where the big guns swung. From his distorted lips
+issued that which was combined roar and bellow and Indian war-whoop,
+and, more than all, a horrible warning cry. He resembled a hunchback
+about to make the leap of a demon. He was quivering, vibrating. His
+eyes, black and hot, were fastened with most piercing intentness upon
+Hawe and Sneed.
+
+“Git back, Bill, git back!” he roared. “Git ’em back!” With one lunge
+Stillwell shoved Stewart and Nick and the other cowboys up on the porch.
+Then he crowded Madeline and Alfred and Florence to the wall, tried to
+force them farther. His motions were rapid and stern. But failing to get
+them through door and windows, he planted his wide person between
+the women and danger. Madeline grasped his arm, held on, and peered
+fearfully from behind his broad shoulder.
+
+“You, Hawe! You, Sneed!” called Monty, in that same wild voice. “Don’t
+you move a finger or an eyelash!”
+
+Madeline’s faculties nerved to keen, thrilling divination. She grasped
+the relation between Monty’s terrible cry and the strange hunched
+posture he had assumed. Stillwell’s haste and silence, too, were
+pregnant of catastrophe.
+
+“Nels, git in this!” yelled Monty; and all the time he never shifted his
+intent gaze as much as a hair’s-breadth from Hawe and his deputy. “Nels,
+chase away them two fellers hangin’ back there. Chase ’em, quick!”
+
+These men, the two deputies who had remained in the background with the
+pack-horses, did not wait for Nels. They spurred their mounts, wheeled,
+and galloped away.
+
+“Now, Nels, cut the gurl loose,” ordered Monty.
+
+Nels ran forward, jerked the halter out of Sneed’s hand, and pulled
+Bonita’s horse in close to the porch. As he slit the rope which bound
+her she fell into his arms.
+
+“Hawe, git down!” went on Monty. “Face front an’ stiff!”
+
+The sheriff swung his leg, and, never moving his hands, with his face
+now a deathly, sickening white, he slid to the ground.
+
+“Line up there beside your guerrilla pard. There! You two make a damn
+fine pictoor, a damn fine team of pizened coyote an’ a cross between a
+wild mule an’ a Greaser. Now listen!”
+
+Monty made a long pause, in which his breathing was plainly audible.
+
+Madeline’s eyes were riveted upon Monty. Her mind, swift as lightning,
+had gathered the subtleties in action and word succeeding his domination
+of the men. Violence, terrible violence, the thing she had felt, the
+thing she had feared, the thing she had sought to eliminate from among
+her cowboys, was, after many months, about to be enacted before
+her eyes. It had come at last. She had softened Stillwell, she had
+influenced Nels, she had changed Stewart; but this little black-faced,
+terrible Monty Price now rose, as it were, out of his past wild years,
+and no power on earth or in heaven could stay his hand. It was the hard
+life of wild men in a wild country that was about to strike this blow at
+her. She did not shudder; she did not wish to blot out from sight this
+little man, terrible in his mood of wild justice. She suffered a flash
+of horror that Monty, blind and dead to her authority, cold as steel
+toward her presence, understood the deeps of a woman’s soul. For in
+this moment of strife, of insult to her, of torture to the man she
+had uplifted and then broken, the passion of her reached deep toward
+primitive hate. With eyes slowly hazing red, she watched Monty Price;
+she listened with thrumming ears; she waited, slowly sagging against
+Stillwell.
+
+“Hawe, if you an’ your dirty pard hev loved the sound of human voice,
+then listen an’ listen hard,” said Monty. “Fer I’ve been goin’ contrary
+to my ole style jest to hev a talk with you. You all but got away on
+your nerve, didn’t you? ‘Cause why? You roll in here like a mad steer
+an’ flash yer badge an’ talk mean, then almost bluff away with it.
+You heerd all about Miss Hammond’s cowboy outfit stoppin’ drinkin’ an’
+cussin’ an’ packin’ guns. They’ve took on religion an’ decent livin’,
+an’ sure they’ll be easy to hobble an’ drive to jail. Hawe, listen.
+There was a good an’ noble an be-ootiful woman come out of the East
+somewheres, an’ she brought a lot of sunshine an’ happiness an’ new
+idees into the tough lives of cowboys. I reckon it’s beyond you to know
+what she come to mean to them. Wal, I’ll tell you. They-all went clean
+out of their heads. They-all got soft an’ easy an’ sweet-tempered. They
+got so they couldn’t kill a coyote, a crippled calf in a mud-hole. They
+took to books, an’ writin’ home to mother an’ sister, an’ to savin’
+money, an’ to gittin’ married. Onct they was only a lot of poor cowboys,
+an’ then sudden-like they was human bein’s, livin’ in a big world
+thet hed somethin’ sweet even fer them. Even fer me—an ole, worn-out,
+hobble-legged, burned-up cowman like me! Do you git thet? An’ you,
+Mister Hawe, you come along, not satisfied with ropin’ an’ beatin’, an’
+Gaw knows what else, of thet friendless little Bonita; you come
+along an’ face the lady we fellers honor an’ love an’ reverence, an’
+you—you—Hell’s fire!”
+
+With whistling breath, foaming at the mouth, Monty Price crouched lower,
+hands at his hips, and he edged inch by inch farther out from the porch,
+closer to Hawe and Sneed. Madeline saw them only in the blurred fringe
+of her sight. They resembled specters. She heard the shrill whistle of a
+horse and recognized Majesty calling her from the corral.
+
+“Thet’s all!” roared Monty, in a voice now strangling. Lower and lower
+he bent, a terrible figure of ferocity. “Now, both you armed ocifers of
+the law, come on! Flash your guns! Throw ’em, an’ be quick! Monty Price
+is done! There’ll be daylight through you both before you fan a hammer!
+But I’m givin’ you a chanst to sting me. You holler law, an’ my way is
+the ole law.”
+
+His breath came quicker, his voice grew hoarser, and he crouched lower.
+All his body except his rigid arms quivered with a wonderful muscular
+convulsion.
+
+“Dogs! Skunks! Buzzards! Flash them guns, er I’ll flash mine! Aha!”
+
+To Madeline it seemed the three stiff, crouching men leaped into instant
+and united action. She saw streaks of fire—streaks of smoke. Then a
+crashing volley deafened her. It ceased as quickly. Smoke veiled the
+scene. Slowly it drifted away to disclose three fallen men, one of whom,
+Monty, leaned on his left hand, a smoking gun in his right. He watched
+for a movement from the other two. It did not come. Then, with a
+terrible smile, he slid back and stretched out.
+
+
+
+
+XXI. Unbridled
+
+
+In waking and sleeping hours Madeline Hammond could not release herself
+from the thralling memory of that tragedy. She was haunted by Monty
+Price’s terrible smile. Only in action of some kind could she escape;
+and to that end she worked, she walked and rode. She even overcame
+a strong feeling, which she feared was unreasonable disgust, for the
+Mexican girl Bonita, who lay ill at the ranch, bruised and feverish, in
+need of skilful nursing.
+
+Madeline felt there was something inscrutable changing her soul. That
+strife—the struggle to decide her destiny for East or West—held still
+further aloof. She was never spiritually alone. There was a step on her
+trail. Indoors she was oppressed. She required the open—the light and
+wind, the sight of endless slope, the sounds of corral and pond and
+field, physical things, natural things.
+
+One afternoon she rode down to the alfalfa-fields, round them, and back
+up to the spillway of the lower lake, where a group of mesquite-trees,
+owing to the water that seeped through the sand to their roots, had
+taken on bloom and beauty of renewed life. Under these trees there was
+shade enough to make a pleasant place to linger. Madeline dismounted,
+desiring to rest a little. She liked this quiet, lonely spot. It was
+really the only secluded nook near the house. If she rode down into the
+valley or out to the mesa or up on the foothills she could not go alone.
+Probably now Stillwell or Nels knew her whereabouts. But as she was
+comparatively hidden here, she imagined a solitude that was not actually
+hers.
+
+Her horse, Majesty, tossed his head and flung his mane and switched his
+tail at the flies. He would rather have been cutting the wind down the
+valley slope. Madeline sat with her back against a tree, and took off
+her sombrero. The soft breeze, fanning her hot face, blowing strands
+of her hair, was refreshingly cool. She heard the slow tramp of cattle
+going in to drink. That sound ceased, and the grove of mesquites
+appeared to be lifeless, except for her and her horse. It was, however,
+only after moments of attention that she found the place was far from
+being dead. Keen eyes and ears brought reward. Desert quail, as gray as
+the bare earth, were dusting themselves in a shady spot. A bee, swift as
+light, hummed by. She saw a horned toad, the color of stone, squatting
+low, hiding fearfully in the sand within reach of her whip. She extended
+the point of the whip, and the toad quivered and swelled and hissed. It
+was instinct with fight. The wind faintly stirred the thin foliage of
+the mesquites, making a mournful sigh. From far up in the foothills,
+barely distinguishable, came the scream of an eagle. The bray of a burro
+brought a brief, discordant break. Then a brown bird darted down from
+an unseen perch and made a swift, irregular flight after a fluttering
+winged insect. Madeline heard the sharp snapping of a merciless beak.
+Indeed, there was more than life in the shade of the mesquites.
+
+Suddenly Majesty picked up his long ears and snorted. Then Madeline
+heard a slow pad of hoofs. A horse was approaching from the direction
+of the lake. Madeline had learned to be wary, and, mounting Majesty, she
+turned him toward the open. A moment later she felt glad of her caution,
+for, looking back between the trees, she saw Stewart leading a horse
+into the grove. She would as lief have met a guerrilla as this cowboy.
+
+Majesty had broken into a trot when a shrill whistle rent the air. The
+horse leaped and, wheeling so swiftly that he nearly unseated Madeline,
+he charged back straight for the mesquites. Madeline spoke to him, cried
+angrily at him, pulled with all her strength upon the bridle, but was
+helplessly unable to stop him. He whistled a piercing blast. Madeline
+realized then that Stewart, his old master, had called him and that
+nothing could turn him. She gave up trying, and attended to the urgent
+need of intercepting mesquite boughs that Majesty thrashed into motion.
+The horse thumped into an aisle between the trees and, stopping before
+Stewart, whinnied eagerly.
+
+Madeline, not knowing what to expect, had not time for any feeling but
+amaze. A quick glance showed her Stewart in rough garb, dressed for
+the trail, and leading a wiry horse, saddled and packed. When Stewart,
+without looking at her, put his arm around Majesty’s neck and laid his
+face against the flowing mane Madeline’s heart suddenly began to beat
+with unwonted quickness. Stewart seemed oblivious to her presence.
+His eyes were closed. His dark face softened, lost its hardness and
+fierceness and sadness, and for an instant became beautiful.
+
+Madeline instantly divined what his action meant. He was leaving the
+ranch; this was his good-by to his horse. How strange, sad, fine was
+this love between man and beast! A dimness confused Madeline’s eyes;
+she hurriedly brushed it away, and it came back wet and blurring. She
+averted her face, ashamed of the tears Stewart might see. She was sorry
+for him. He was going away, and this time, judging from the nature of
+his farewell to his horse, it was to be forever. Like a stab from a
+cold blade a pain shot through Madeline’s heart. The wonder of it, the
+incomprehensibility of it, the utter newness and strangeness of this
+sharp pain that now left behind a dull pang, made her forget Stewart,
+her surroundings, everything except to search her heart. Maybe here was
+the secret that had eluded her. She trembled on the brink of something
+unknown. In some strange way the emotion brought back her girlhood.
+Her mind revolved swift queries and replies; she was living, feeling,
+learning; happiness mocked at her from behind a barred door, and the
+bar of that door seemed to be an inexplicable pain. Then like lightning
+strokes shot the questions: Why should pain hide her happiness? What
+was her happiness? What relation had it to this man? Why should she feel
+strangely about his departure? And the voices within her were silenced,
+stunned, unanswered.
+
+“I want to talk to you,” said Stewart.
+
+Madeline started, turned to him, and now she saw the earlier Stewart,
+the man who reminded her of their first meeting at El Cajon, of that
+memorable meeting at Chiricahua.
+
+“I want to ask you something,” he went on. “I’ve been wanting to know
+something. That’s why I’ve hung on here. You never spoke to me, never
+noticed me, never gave me a chance to ask you. But now I’m going
+over—over the border. And I want to know. Why did you refuse to listen
+to me?”
+
+At his last words that hot shame, tenfold more stifling than when it had
+before humiliated Madeline, rushed over her, sending the scarlet in a
+wave to her temples. It seemed that his words made her realize she was
+actually face to face with him, that somehow a shame she would rather
+have died than revealed was being liberated. Biting her lips to hold
+back speech, she jerked on Majesty’s bridle, struck him with her whip,
+spurred him. Stewart’s iron arm held the horse. Then Madeline, in a
+flash of passion, struck at Stewart’s face, missed it, struck again, and
+hit. With one pull, almost drawing her from the saddle, he tore the whip
+from her hands. It was not that action on his part, or the sudden strong
+masterfulness of his look, so much as the livid mark on his face where
+the whip had lashed that quieted, if it did not check, her fury.
+
+“That’s nothing,” he said, with something of his old audacity. “That’s
+nothing to how you’ve hurt me.”
+
+Madeline battled with herself for control. This man would not be denied.
+Never before had the hardness of his face, the flinty hardness of these
+desert-bred men, so struck her with its revelation of the unbridled
+spirit. He looked stern, haggard, bitter. The dark shade was changing to
+gray—the gray to ash-color of passion. About him now there was only the
+ghost of that finer, gentler man she had helped to bring into being. The
+piercing dark eyes he bent upon her burned her, went through her as
+if he were looking into her soul. Then Madeline’s quick sight caught a
+fleeting doubt, a wistfulness, a surprised and saddened certainty in his
+eyes, saw it shade and pass away. Her woman’s intuition, as keen as her
+sight, told her Stewart in that moment had sustained a shock of bitter,
+final truth.
+
+For the third time he repeated his question to her. Madeline did not
+answer; she could not speak.
+
+“You don’t know I love you, do you?” he continued, passionately. “That
+ever since you stood before me in that hole at Chiricahua I’ve loved
+you? You can’t see I’ve been another man, loving you, working for you,
+living for you? You won’t believe I’ve turned my back on the old wild
+life, that I’ve been decent and honorable and happy and useful—your
+kind of a cowboy? You couldn’t tell, though I loved you, that I never
+wanted you to know it, that I never dared to think of you except as my
+angel, my holy Virgin? What do you know of a man’s heart and soul? How
+could you tell of the love, the salvation of a man who’s lived his
+life in the silence and loneliness? Who could teach you the actual
+truth—that a wild cowboy, faithless to mother and sister, except in
+memory, riding a hard, drunken trail straight to hell; had looked into
+the face, the eyes of a beautiful woman infinitely beyond him, above
+him, and had so loved her that he was saved—that he became faithful
+again—that he saw her face in every flower and her eyes in the blue
+heaven? Who could tell you, when at night I stood alone under these
+Western stars, how deep in my soul I was glad just to be alive, to be
+able to do something for you, to be near you, to stand between you and
+worry, trouble, danger, to feel somehow that I was a part, just a little
+part of the West you had come to love?”
+
+Madeline was mute. She heard her heart thundering in her ears.
+
+Stewart leaped at her. His powerful hand closed on her arm. She
+trembled. His action presaged the old instinctive violence.
+
+“No; but you think I kept Bonita up in the mountains, that I went
+secretly to meet her, that all the while I served you I was—Oh, I know
+what you think! I know now. I never knew till I made you look at me.
+Now, say it! Speak!”
+
+White-hot, blinded, utterly in the fiery grasp of passion, powerless to
+stem the rush of a word both shameful and revealing and fatal, Madeline
+cried:
+
+“YES!”
+
+He had wrenched that word from her, but he was not subtle enough, not
+versed in the mystery of woman’s motive enough, to divine the deep
+significance of her reply.
+
+For him the word had only literal meaning confirming the dishonor in
+which she held him. Dropping her arm, he shrank back, a strange action
+for the savage and crude man she judged him to be.
+
+“But that day at Chiricahua you spoke of faith,” he burst out. “You said
+the greatest thing in the world was faith in human nature. You said the
+finest men had been those who had fallen low and had risen. You said you
+had faith in me! You made me have faith in myself!”
+
+His reproach, without bitterness or scorn, was a lash to her old
+egoistic belief in her fairness. She had preached a beautiful principle
+that she had failed to live up to. She understood his rebuke, she
+wondered and wavered, but the affront to her pride had been too great,
+the tumult within her breast had been too startlingly fierce; she could
+not speak, the moment passed, and with it his brief, rugged splendor of
+simplicity.
+
+“You think I am vile,” he said. “You think that about Bonita! And all
+the time I’ve been... I could make you ashamed—I could tell you—”
+
+His passionate utterance ceased with a snap of his teeth. His lips set
+in a thin, bitter line. The agitation of his face preceded a convulsive
+wrestling of his shoulders. All this swift action denoted an inner
+combat, and it nearly overwhelmed him.
+
+“No, no!” he panted. Was it his answer to some mighty temptation? Then,
+like a bent sapling released, he sprang erect. “But I’ll be the man—the
+dog—you think me!”
+
+He laid hold of her arm with rude, powerful clutch. One pull drew her
+sliding half out of the saddle into his arms. She fell with her breast
+against his, not wholly free of stirrups or horse, and there she hung,
+utterly powerless. Maddened, writhing, she tore to release herself. All
+she could accomplish was to twist herself, raise herself high enough to
+see his face. That almost paralyzed her. Did he mean to kill her? Then
+he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her tighter, closer to him.
+She felt the pound of his heart; her own seemed to have frozen. Then he
+pressed his burning lips to hers. It was a long, terrible kiss. She felt
+him shake.
+
+“Oh, Stewart! I—implore—you—let—me—go!” she whispered.
+
+His white face loomed over hers. She closed her eyes. He rained kisses
+upon her face, but no more upon her mouth. On her closed eyes, her hair,
+her cheeks, her neck he pressed swift lips—lips that lost their fire
+and grew cold. Then he released her, and, lifting and righting her in
+the saddle, he still held her arm to keep her from falling.
+
+For a moment Madeline sat on her horse with shut eyes. She dreaded the
+light.
+
+“Now you can’t say you’ve never been kissed,” Stewart said. His voice
+seemed a long way off. “But that was coming to you, so be game. Here!”
+
+She felt something hard and cold and metallic thrust into her hand. He
+made her fingers close over it, hold it. The feel of the thing revived
+her. She opened her eyes. Stewart had given her his gun. He stood with
+his broad breast against her knee, and she looked up to see that old
+mocking smile on his face.
+
+“Go ahead! Throw my gun on me! Be a thoroughbred!”
+
+Madeline did not yet grasp his meaning.
+
+“You can put me down in that quiet place on the hill—beside Monty
+Price.”
+
+Madeline dropped the gun with a shuddering cry of horror. The sense
+of his words, the memory of Monty, the certainty that she would
+kill Stewart if she held the gun an instant longer, tortured the
+self-accusing cry from her.
+
+Stewart stooped to pick up the weapon.
+
+“You might have saved me a hell of a lot of trouble,” he said, with
+another flash of the mocking smile. “You’re beautiful and sweet and
+proud, but you’re no thoroughbred! Majesty Hammond, adios!”
+
+Stewart leaped for the saddle of his horse, and with the flying mount
+crashed through the mesquites to disappear.
+
+
+
+
+XXII. The Secret Told
+
+
+In the shaded seclusion of her room, buried face down deep among the
+soft cushions on her couch, Madeline Hammond lay prostrate and quivering
+under the outrage she had suffered.
+
+The afternoon wore away; twilight fell; night came; and then Madeline
+rose to sit by the window to let the cool wind blow upon her hot face.
+She passed through hours of unintelligible shame and impotent rage and
+futile striving to reason away her defilement.
+
+The train of brightening stars seemed to mock her with their
+unattainable passionless serenity. She had loved them, and now she
+imagined she hated them and everything connected with this wild,
+fateful, and abrupt West.
+
+She would go home.
+
+Edith Wayne had been right; the West was no place for Madeline Hammond.
+The decision to go home came easily, naturally, she thought, as the
+result of events. It caused her no mental strife. Indeed, she fancied
+she felt relief. The great stars, blinking white and cold over the dark
+crags, looked down upon her, and, as always, after she had watched
+them for a while they enthralled her. “Under Western stars,” she mused,
+thinking a little scornfully of the romantic destiny they had blazed for
+her idle sentiment. But they were beautiful; they were speaking; they
+were mocking; they drew her. “Ah!” she sighed. “It will not be so very
+easy to leave them, after all.”
+
+Madeline closed and darkened the window. She struck a light. It was
+necessary to tell the anxious servants who knocked that she was well and
+required nothing. A soft step on the walk outside arrested her. Who was
+there—Nels or Nick Steele or Stillwell? Who shared the guardianship
+over her, now that Monty Price was dead and that other—that savage—?
+It was monstrous and unfathomable that she regretted him.
+
+The light annoyed her. Complete darkness fitted her strange mood. She
+retired and tried to compose herself to sleep. Sleep for her was not a
+matter of will. Her cheeks burned so hotly that she rose to bathe
+them. Cold water would not alleviate this burn, and then, despairing
+of forgetfulness, she lay down again with a shameful gratitude for the
+cloak of night. Stewart’s kisses were there, scorching her lips, her
+closed eyes, her swelling neck. They penetrated deeper and deeper into
+her blood, into her heart, into her soul—the terrible farewell kisses
+of a passionate, hardened man. Despite his baseness, he had loved her.
+
+Late in the night Madeline fell asleep. In the morning she was pale and
+languid, but in a mental condition that promised composure.
+
+It was considerably after her regular hour that Madeline repaired to her
+office. The door was open, and just outside, tipped back in a chair, sat
+Stillwell.
+
+“Mawnin’, Miss Majesty,” he said, as he rose to greet her with his usual
+courtesy. There were signs of trouble in his lined face. Madeline shrank
+inwardly, fearing his old lamentations about Stewart. Then she saw a
+dusty, ragged pony in the yard and a little burro drooping under a heavy
+pack. Both animals bore evidence of long, arduous travel.
+
+“To whom do they belong?” asked Madeline.
+
+“Them critters? Why, Danny Mains,” replied Stillwell, with a cough that
+betrayed embarrassment.
+
+“Danny Mains?” echoed Madeline, wonderingly.
+
+“Wal, I said so.”
+
+Stillwell was indeed not himself.
+
+“Is Danny Mains here?” she asked, in sudden curiosity.
+
+The old cattleman nodded gloomily.
+
+“Yep, he’s hyar, all right. Sloped in from the hills, an’ he hollered to
+see Bonita. He’s locoed, too, about that little black-eyed hussy. Why,
+he hardly said, ‘Howdy, Bill,’ before he begun to ask wild an’ eager
+questions. I took him in to see Bonita. He’s been there more ’n a
+half-hour now.”
+
+Evidently Stillwell’s sensitive feelings had been ruffled. Madeline’s
+curiosity changed to blank astonishment, which left her with a thrilling
+premonition. She caught her breath. A thousand thoughts seemed thronging
+for clear conception in her mind.
+
+Rapid footsteps with an accompaniment of clinking spurs sounded in the
+hallway. Then a young man ran out upon the porch. He resembled a cowboy
+in his lithe build, his garb and action, in the way he wore his gun, but
+his face, instead of being red, was clear brown tan. His eyes were blue;
+his hair was light and curly. He was a handsome, frank-faced boy. At
+sight of Madeline he slammed down his sombrero and, leaping at her, he
+possessed himself of her hands. His swift violence not only alarmed her,
+but painfully reminded her of something she wished to forget.
+
+This cowboy bent his head and kissed her hands and wrung them, and when
+he straightened up he was crying.
+
+“Miss Hammond, she’s safe an’ almost well, an’ what I feared most ain’t
+so, thank God,” he cried. “Sure I’ll never be able to pay you for all
+you’ve done for her. She’s told me how she was dragged down here, how
+Gene tried to save her, how you spoke up for Gene an’ her, too, how
+Monty at the last throwed his guns. Poor Monty! We were good friends,
+Monty an’ I. But it wasn’t friendship for me that made Monty stand in
+there. He would have saved her, anyway. Monty Price was the whitest man
+I ever knew. There’s Nels an’ Nick an’ Gene, he’s been some friend to
+me; but Monty Price was—he was grand. He never knew, any more than you
+or Bill, here, or the boys, what Bonita was to me.”
+
+Stillwell’s kind and heavy hand fell upon the cowboy’s shoulder.
+
+“Danny, what’s all this queer gab?” he asked. “An’ you’re takin’ some
+liberty with Miss Hammond, who never seen you before. Sure I’m makin’
+allowance fer amazin’ strange talk. I see you’re not drinkin’. Mebbe
+you’re plumb locoed. Come, ease up now an’ talk sense.”
+
+The cowboy’s fine, frank face broke into a smile. He dashed the tears
+from his eyes. Then he laughed. His laugh had a pleasant, boyish ring—a
+happy ring.
+
+“Bill, old pal, stand bridle down a minute, will you?” Then he bowed to
+Madeline. “I beg your pardon, Miss Hammond, for seemin’ rudeness. I’m
+Danny Mains. An’ Bonita is my wife. I’m so crazy glad she’s safe an’
+unharmed—so grateful to you that—why, sure it’s a wonder I didn’t kiss
+you outright.”
+
+“Bonita’s your wife!” ejaculated Stillwell.
+
+“Sure. We’ve been married for months,” replied Danny, happily. “Gene
+Stewart did it. Good old Gene, he’s hell on marryin’. I guess maybe I
+haven’t come to pay him up for all he’s done for me! You see, I’ve been
+in love with Bonita for two years. An’ Gene—you know, Bill, what a way
+Gene has with girls—he was—well, he was tryin’ to get Bonita to have
+me.”
+
+Madeline’s quick, varying emotions were swallowed up in a boundless
+gladness. Something dark, deep, heavy, and somber was flooded from her
+heart. She had a sudden rich sense of gratitude toward this smiling,
+clean-faced cowboy whose blue eyes flashed through tears.
+
+“Danny Mains!” she said, tremulously and smilingly. “If you are as glad
+as your news has made me—if you really think I merit such a reward—you
+may kiss me outright.”
+
+With a bashful wonder, but with right hearty will, Danny Mains availed
+himself of this gracious privilege. Stillwell snorted. The signs of his
+phenomenal smile were manifest, otherwise Madeline would have thought
+that snort an indication of furious disapproval.
+
+“Bill, straddle a chair,” said Danny. “You’ve gone back a heap these
+last few months, frettin’ over your bad boys, Danny an’ Gene. You’ll
+need support under you while I’m throwin’ my yarn. Story of my life,
+Bill.” He placed a chair for Madeline. “Miss Hammond, beggin’ your
+pardon again, I want you to listen, also. You’ve the face an’ eyes of a
+woman who loves to hear of other people’s happiness. Besides, somehow,
+it’s easy for me to talk lookin’ at you.”
+
+His manner subtly changed then. Possibly it took on a little swagger;
+certainly he lost the dignity that he had shown under stress of feeling;
+he was now more like a cowboy about to boast or affect some stunning
+maneuver. Walking off the porch, he stood before the weary horse and
+burro.
+
+“Played out!” he exclaimed.
+
+Then with the swift violence so characteristic of men of his class he
+slipped the pack from the burro and threw saddle and bridle from the
+horse.
+
+“There! See ’em! Take a look at the last dog-gone weight you ever
+packed! You’ve been some faithful to Danny Mains. An’ Danny Mains pays!
+Never a saddle again or a strap or a halter or a hobble so long as you
+live! So long as you live nothin’ but grass an’ clover, an’ cool water
+in shady places, an’ dusty swales to roll in an’ rest an’ sleep!”
+
+Then he untied the pack and, taking a small, heavy sack from it, he came
+back upon the porch. Deliberately he dumped the contents of the sack at
+Stillwell’s feet. Piece after piece of rock thumped upon the floor. The
+pieces were sharp, ragged, evidently broken from a ledge; the body
+of them was white in color, with yellow veins and bars and streaks.
+Stillwell grasped up one rock after another, stared and stuttered, put
+the rocks to his lips, dug into them with his shaking fingers; then he
+lay back in his chair, head against the wall, and as he gaped at Danny
+the old smile began to transform his face.
+
+“Lord, Danny if you hevn’t been an’ gone an’ struck it rich!”
+
+Danny regarded Stillwell with lofty condescension.
+
+“Some rich,” he said. “Now, Bill, what’ve we got here, say, offhand?”
+
+“Oh, Lord, Danny! I’m afraid to say. Look, Miss Majesty, jest look at
+the gold. I’ve lived among prospectors an’ gold-mines fer thirty years,
+an’ I never seen the beat of this.”
+
+“The Lost Mine of the Padres!” cried Danny, in stentorian voice. “An’ it
+belongs to me!”
+
+Stillwell made some incoherent sound as he sat up fascinated, quite
+beside himself.
+
+“Bill, it was some long time ago since you saw me,” said Danny. “Fact
+is, I know how you felt, because Gene kept me posted. I happened to run
+across Bonita, an’ I wasn’t goin’ to let her ride away alone, when she
+told me she was in trouble. We hit the trail for the Peloncillos. Bonita
+had Gene’s horse, an’ she was to meet him up on the trail. We got to the
+mountains all right, an’ nearly starved for a few days till Gene found
+us. He had got in trouble himself an’ couldn’t fetch much with him.
+
+“We made for the crags an’ built a cabin. I come down that day Gene sent
+his horse Majesty to you. Never saw Gene so broken-hearted. Well, after
+he sloped for the border Bonita an’ I were hard put to it to keep alive.
+But we got along, an’ I think it was then she began to care a little for
+me. Because I was decent. I killed cougars an’ went down to Rodeo to get
+bounties for the skins, an’ bought grub an’ supplies I needed. Once
+I went to El Cajon an’ run plumb into Gene. He was back from the
+revolution an’ cuttin’ up some. But I got away from him after doin’ all
+I could to drag him out of town. A long time after that Gene trailed
+up to the crags an’ found us. Gene had stopped drinkin’, he’d changed
+wonderful, was fine an’ dandy. It was then he began to pester the life
+out of me to make me marry Bonita. I was happy, so was she, an’ I was
+some scared of spoilin’ it. Bonita had been a little flirt, an’ I was
+afraid she’d get shy of a halter, so I bucked against Gene. But I was
+all locoed, as it turned out. Gene would come up occasionally, packin’
+supplies for us, an’ always he’d get after me to do the right thing by
+Bonita. Gene’s so dog-gone hard to buck against! I had to give in, an’
+I asked Bonita to marry me. Well, she wouldn’t at first—said she wasn’t
+good enough for me. But I saw the marriage idea was workin’ deep, an’
+I just kept on bein’ as decent as I knew how. So it was my wantin’ to
+marry Bonita—my bein’ glad to marry her—that made her grow soft an’
+sweet an’ pretty as—as a mountain quail. Gene fetched up Padre Marcos,
+an’ he married us.”
+
+Danny paused in his narrative, breathing hard, as if the memory of the
+incident described had stirred strong and thrilling feeling in him.
+Stillwell’s smile was rapturous. Madeline leaned toward Danny with her
+eyes shining.
+
+“Miss Hammond, an’ you, Bill Stillwell, now listen, for this is strange
+I’ve got to tell you. The afternoon Bonita an’ I were married, when Gene
+an’ the padre had gone, I was happy one minute an’ low-hearted the next.
+I was miserable because I had a bad name. I couldn’t buy even a decent
+dress for my pretty wife. Bonita heard me, an’ she was some mysterious.
+She told me the story of the lost mine of the padres, an’ she kissed
+me an made joyful over me in the strangest way. I knew marriage went to
+women’s heads, an’ I thought even Bonita had a spell.
+
+“Well, she left me for a little, an’ when she came back she wore some
+pretty yellow flowers in her hair. Her eyes were big an’ black an’
+beautiful. She said some queer things about spirits rollin’ rocks down
+the canyon. Then she said she wanted to show me where she always sat an’
+waited an’ watched for me when I was away.
+
+“She led me around under the crags to a long slope. It was some pretty
+there—clear an’ open, with a long sweep, an’ the desert yawnin’ deep
+an’ red. There were yellow flowers on that slope, the same kind she had
+in her hair—the same kind that Apache girl wore hundreds of years ago
+when she led the padre to the gold-mine.
+
+“When I thought of that, an’ saw Bonita’s eyes, an’ then heard the
+strange crack of rollin’ rocks—heard them rattle down an’ roll an’
+grow faint—I was some out of my head. But not for long. Them rocks were
+rollin’ all right, only it was the weatherin’ of the cliffs.
+
+“An’ there under the crags was a gold pocket.
+
+“Then I was worse than locoed. I went gold-crazy. I worked like
+seventeen burros. Bill, I dug a lot of goldbearin’ quartz. Bonita
+watched the trails for me, brought me water. That was how she come to
+get caught by Pat Hawe an’ his guerrillas. Sure! Pat Hawe was so set on
+doin’ Gene dirt that he mixed up with Don Carlos. Bonita will tell you
+some staggerin’ news about that outfit. Just now my story is all gold.”
+
+Danny Mains got up and kicked back his chair. Blue lightning gleamed
+from his eyes as he thrust a hand toward Stillwell.
+
+“Bill, old pal, put her there—give me your hand,” he said. “You were
+always my friend. You had faith in me. Well, Danny Mains owes you,
+an’ he owes Gene Stewart a good deal, an’ Danny Mains pays. I want two
+pardners to help me work my gold-mine. You an’ Gene. If there’s any
+ranch hereabouts that takes your fancy I’ll buy it. If Miss Hammond ever
+gets tired of her range an stock an’ home I’ll buy them for Gene. If
+there’s any railroad or town round here that she likes I’ll buy it. If
+I see anythin’ myself that I like I’ll buy it. Go out; find Gene for me.
+I’m achin’ to see him, to tell him. Go fetch him; an’ right here in
+this house, with my wife an’ Miss Hammond as witnesses, we’ll draw up a
+pardnership. Go find him, Bill. I want to show him this gold, show him
+how Danny Mains pays! An’ the only bitter drop in my cup to-day is that
+I can’t ever pay Monty Price.”
+
+          *****
+
+Madeline’s lips tremblingly formed to tell Danny Mains and Stillwell
+that the cowboy they wanted so much had left the ranch; but the flame
+of fine loyalty that burned in Danny’s eyes, the happiness that made the
+old cattleman’s face at once amazing and beautiful, stiffened her lips.
+She watched the huge Stillwell and the little cowboy, both talking
+wildly, as they walked off arm in arm to find Stewart. She imagined
+something of what Danny’s disappointment would be, of the elder man’s
+consternation and grief, when he learned Stewart had left for the
+border. At this juncture she looked up to see a strange, yet familiar
+figure approaching. Padre Marcos! Certain it was that Madeline felt
+herself trembling. What did his presence mean on this day? He had always
+avoided meeting her whenever possible. He had been exceedingly grateful
+for all she had done for his people, his church, and himself; but he had
+never thanked her in person. Perhaps he had come for that purpose now.
+But Madeline did not believe so.
+
+Mention of Padre Marcos, sight of him, had always occasioned Madeline
+a little indefinable shock; and now, as he stepped to the porch, a
+shrunken, stooped, and sad-faced man, she was startled.
+
+The padre bowed low to her.
+
+“Senora, will you grant me audience?” he asked, in perfect English, and
+his voice was low-toned and grave.
+
+“Certainly, Padre Marcos,” replied Madeline; and she led him into her
+office.
+
+“May I beg to close the doors?” he asked. “It is a matter of great
+moment, which you might not care to have any one hear.”
+
+Wonderingly Madeline inclined her head. The padre gently closed one door
+and then the others.
+
+“Senora, I have come to disclose a secret—my own sinfulness in keeping
+it—and to implore your pardon. Do you remember that night Senor Stewart
+dragged me before you in the waiting-room at El Cajon?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Madeline.
+
+“Senora, since that night you have been Senor Stewart’s wife!”
+
+Madeline became as motionless as stone. She seemed to feel nothing, only
+to hear.
+
+“You are Senor Stewart’s wife. I have kept the secret under fear of
+death. But I could keep it no longer. Senor Stewart may kill me now. Ah,
+Senora, it is very strange to you. You were so frightened that night,
+you knew not what happened. Senor Stewart threatened me. He forced you.
+He made me speak the service. He made you speak the Spanish yes. And I,
+Senora, knowing the deeds of these sinful cowboys, fearing worse than
+disgrace to one so beautiful and so good as you, I could not do less
+than marry you truly. At least you should be his wife. So I married you,
+truly, in the service of my church.”
+
+“My God!” cried Madeline, rising.
+
+“Hear me! I implore you, Senora, hear me out! Do not leave me! Do not
+look so—so—Ah, Senora, let me speak a word for Senor Stewart. He was
+drunk that night. He did not know what he was about. In the morning
+he came to me, made me swear by my cross that I would not reveal the
+disgrace he had put upon you. If I did he would kill me. Life is nothing
+to the American vaquero, Senora. I promised to respect his command.
+But I did not tell him you were his wife. He did not dream I had truly
+married you. He went to fight for the freedom of my country—Senora, he
+is one splendid soldier—and I brooded over the sin of my secret. If he
+were killed I need never tell you. But if he lived I knew that I must
+some day.
+
+“Strange indeed that Senor Stewart and Padre Marcos should both come
+to this ranch together. The great change your goodness wrought in my
+beloved people was no greater than the change in Senor Stewart. Senora,
+I feared you would go away one day, go back to your Eastern home,
+ignorant of the truth. The time came when I confessed to Stewart—said
+I must tell you. Senor, the man went mad with joy. I have never seen
+so supreme a joy. He threatened no more to kill me. That strong,
+cruel vaquero begged me not to tell the secret—never to reveal it. He
+confessed his love for you—a love something like the desert storm. He
+swore by all that was once sacred to him, and by my cross and my
+church, that he would be a good man, that he would be worthy to have you
+secretly his wife for the little time life left him to worship at your
+shrine. You needed never to know. So I held my tongue, half pitying him,
+half fearing him, and praying for some God-sent light.
+
+“Senora, it was a fool’s paradise that Stewart lived in. I saw him,
+often. When he took me up into the mountains to have me marry that
+wayward Bonita and her lover I came to have respect for a man whose
+ideas about nature and life and God were at a variance with mine. But
+the man is a worshiper of God in all material things. He is a part of
+the wind and sun and desert and mountain that have made him. I have
+never heard more beautiful words than those in which he persuaded Bonita
+to accept Senor Mains, to forget her old lovers, and henceforth to be
+happy. He is their friend. I wish I could tell you what that means.
+It sounds so simple. It is really simple. All great things are so. For
+Senor Stewart it was natural to be loyal to his friend, to have a fine
+sense of the honor due to a woman who had loved and given, to bring
+about their marriage, to succor them in their need and loneliness. It
+was natural for him never to speak of them. It would have been natural
+for him to give his life in their defense if peril menaced them. Senora,
+I want you to understand that to me the man has the same stability, the
+same strength, the same elements which I am in the habit of attributing
+to the physical life around me in this wild and rugged desert.”
+
+Madeline listened as one under a spell. It was not only that this
+soft-voiced, eloquent priest knew how to move the heart, stir the soul;
+but his defense, his praise of Stewart, if they had been couched in the
+crude speech of cowboys, would have been a glory to her.
+
+“Senora, I pray you, do not misunderstand my mission. Beyond my
+confession to you I have only a duty to tell you of the man whose wife
+you are. But I am a priest and I can read the soul. The ways of God are
+inscrutable. I am only a humble instrument. You are a noble woman, and
+Senor Stewart is a man of desert iron forged anew in the crucible of
+love. Quien sabe? Senor Stewart swore he would kill me if I betrayed
+him. But he will not lift his hand against me. For the man bears you a
+very great and pure love, and it has changed him. I no longer fear his
+threat, but I do fear his anger, should he ever know I spoke of his
+love, of his fool’s paradise. I have watched his dark face turned to the
+sun setting over the desert. I have watched him lift it to the light
+of the stars. Think, my gracious and noble lady, think what is his
+paradise? To love you above the spirit of the flesh; to know you are his
+wife, his, never to be another’s except by his sacrifice; to watch you
+with a secret glory of joy and pride; to stand, while he might, between
+you and evil; to find his happiness in service; to wait, with never a
+dream of telling you, for the hour to come when to leave you free he
+must go out and get himself shot! Senora, that is beautiful, it is
+sublime, it is terrible. It has brought me to you with my confession. I
+repeat, Senora, the ways of God are inscrutable. What is the meaning of
+your influence upon Senor Stewart? Once he was merely an animal, brutal,
+unquickened; now he is a man—I have not seen his like! So I beseech you
+in my humble office as priest, as a lover of mankind, before you
+send Stewart to his death, to be sure there is here no mysterious
+dispensation of God. Love, that mighty and blessed and unknown thing,
+might be at work. Senora, I have heard that somewhere in the rich
+Eastern cities you are a very great lady. I know you are good and noble.
+That is all I want to know. To me you are only a woman, the same as
+Senor Stewart is only a man. So I pray you, Senora, before you let
+Stewart give you freedom at such cost be sure you do not want his love,
+lest you cast away something sweet and ennobling which you yourself have
+created.”
+
+
+
+
+XXIII. The Light of Western Stars
+
+
+Blinded, like a wild creature, Madeline Hammond ran to her room. She
+felt as if a stroke of lightning had shattered the shadowy substance of
+the dream she had made of real life. The wonder of Danny Mains’s story,
+the strange regret with which she had realized her injustice to Stewart,
+the astounding secret as revealed by Padre Marcos—these were forgotten
+in the sudden consciousness of her own love.
+
+Madeline fled as if pursued. With trembling hands she locked the doors,
+drew the blinds of the windows that opened on the porch, pushed chairs
+aside so that she could pace the length of her room. She was now alone,
+and she walked with soft, hurried, uneven steps. She could be herself
+here; she needed no mask; the long habit of serenely hiding the truth
+from the world and from herself could be broken. The seclusion of her
+darkened chamber made possible that betrayal of herself to which she was
+impelled.
+
+She paused in her swift pacing to and fro. She liberated the thought
+that knocked at the gates of her mind. With quivering lips she whispered
+it. Then she spoke aloud:
+
+“I will say it—hear it. I—I love him!”
+
+“I love him!” she repeated the astounding truth, but she doubted her
+identity.
+
+“Am I still Madeline Hammond? What has happened? Who am I?” She stood
+where the light from one unclosed window fell upon her image in the
+mirror. “Who is this woman?”
+
+She expected to see a familiar, dignified person, a quiet, unruffled
+figure, a tranquil face with dark, proud eyes and calm, proud lips. No,
+she did not see Madeline Hammond. She did not see any one she knew. Were
+her eyes, like her heart, playing her false? The figure before her
+was instinct with pulsating life. The hands she saw, clasped together,
+pressed deep into a swelling bosom that heaved with each panting breath.
+The face she saw—white, rapt, strangely glowing, with parted, quivering
+lips, with great, staring, tragic eyes—this could not be Madeline
+Hammond’s face.
+
+Yet as she looked she knew no fancy could really deceive her, that she
+was only Madeline Hammond come at last to the end of brooding dreams.
+She swiftly realized the change in her, divined its cause and meaning,
+accepted it as inevitable, and straightway fell back again into the mood
+of bewildering amaze.
+
+Calmness was unattainable. The surprise absorbed her. She could not go
+back to count the innumerable, imperceptible steps of her undoing. Her
+old power of reflecting, analyzing, even thinking at all, seemed to have
+vanished in a pulse-stirring sense of one new emotion. She only felt
+all her instinctive outward action that was a physical relief, all her
+involuntary inner strife that was maddening, yet unutterably sweet; and
+they seemed to be just one bewildering effect of surprise.
+
+In a nature like hers, where strength of feeling had long been inhibited
+as a matter of training, such a transforming surprise as sudden
+consciousness of passionate love required time for its awakening, time
+for its sway.
+
+By and by that last enlightening moment came, and Madeline Hammond faced
+not only the love in her heart, but the thought of the man she loved.
+
+Suddenly, as she raged, something in her—this dauntless new
+personality—took arms against indictment of Gene Stewart. Her mind
+whirled about him and his life. She saw him drunk, brutal; she saw him
+abandoned, lost. Then out of the picture she had of him thus slowly grew
+one of a different man—weak, sick, changed by shock, growing strong,
+strangely, spiritually altered, silent, lonely like an eagle, secretive,
+tireless, faithful, soft as a woman, hard as iron to endure, and at the
+last noble.
+
+She softened. In a flash her complex mood changed to one wherein she
+thought of the truth, the beauty, the wonder of Stewart’s uplifting.
+Humbly she trusted that she had helped him to climb. That influence
+had been the best she had ever exerted. It had wrought magic in her own
+character. By it she had reached some higher, nobler plane of trust in
+man. She had received infinitely more than she had given.
+
+Her swiftly flying memory seemed to assort a vast mine of treasures
+of the past. Of that letter Stewart had written to her brother she
+saw vivid words. But ah! she had known, and if it had not made any
+difference then, now it made all in the world. She recalled how her
+loosened hair had blown across his lips that night he had ridden down
+from the mountains carrying her in his arms. She recalled the strange
+joy of pride in Stewart’s eyes when he had suddenly come upon her
+dressed to receive her Eastern guests in the white gown with the red
+roses at her breast.
+
+Swiftly as they had come these dreamful memories departed. There was
+to be no rest for her mind. All she had thought and felt seemed only to
+presage a tumult.
+
+Heedless, desperate, she cast off the last remnant of self-control,
+turned from the old proud, pale, cold, self-contained ghost of herself
+to face this strange, strong, passionate woman. Then, with hands pressed
+to her beating heart, with eyes shut, she listened to the ringing
+trip-hammer voice of circumstance, of truth, of fatality. The whole
+story was revealed, simple enough in the sum of its complicated details,
+strange and beautiful in part, remorseless in its proof of great love
+on Stewart’s side, in dreaming blindness on her own, and, from the first
+fatal moment to the last, prophetic of tragedy.
+
+Madeline, like a prisoner in a cell, began again to pace to and fro.
+
+“Oh, it is all terrible!” she cried. “I am his wife. His wife! That
+meeting with him—the marriage—then his fall, his love, his rise,
+his silence, his pride! And I can never be anything to him. Could I be
+anything to him? I, Madeline Hammond? But I am his wife, and I love him!
+His wife! I am the wife of a cowboy! That might be undone. Can my love
+be undone? Ah, do I want anything undone? He is gone. Gone! Could he
+have meant—I will not, dare not think of that. He will come back. No,
+he never will come back. Oh, what shall I do?”
+
+          *****
+
+For Madeline Hammond the days following that storm of feeling were
+leaden-footed, endless, hopeless—a long succession of weary hours,
+sleepless hours, passionate hours, all haunted by a fear slowly growing
+into torture, a fear that Stewart had crossed the border to invite the
+bullet which would give her freedom. The day came when she knew this
+to be true. The spiritual tidings reached her, not subtly as so many
+divinations had come, but in a clear, vital flash of certainty. Then she
+suffered. She burned inwardly, and the nature of that deep fire showed
+through her eyes. She kept to herself, waiting, waiting for her fears to
+be confirmed.
+
+At times she broke out in wrath at the circumstances she had failed to
+control, at herself, at Stewart.
+
+“He might have learned from Ambrose!” she exclaimed, sick with a
+bitterness she knew was not consistent with her pride. She recalled
+Christine’s trenchant exposition of Ambrose’s wooing: “He tell me he
+love me; he kees me; he hug me; he put me on his horse; he ride away
+with me; he marry me.”
+
+Then in the next breath Madeline denied this insistent clamoring of
+a love that was gradually breaking her spirit. Like a somber shadow
+remorse followed her, shading blacker. She had been blind to a man’s
+honesty, manliness, uprightness, faith, and striving. She had been dead
+to love, to nobility that she had herself created. Padre Marcos’s grave,
+wise words returned to haunt her. She fought her bitterness, scorned her
+intelligence, hated her pride, and, weakening, gave up more and more to
+a yearning, hopeless hope.
+
+She had shunned the light of the stars as she had violently dismissed
+every hinting suggestive memory of Stewart’s kisses. But one night she
+went deliberately to her window. There they shone. Her stars! Beautiful,
+passionless as always, but strangely closer, warmer, speaking a kinder
+language, helpful as they had never been, teaching her now that regret
+was futile, revealing to her in their one grand, blazing task the
+supreme duty of life—to be true.
+
+Those shining stars made her yield. She whispered to them that they had
+claimed her—the West claimed her—Stewart claimed her forever, whether
+he lived or died. She gave up to her love. And it was as if he was there
+in person, dark-faced, fire-eyed, violent in his action, crushing her to
+his breast in that farewell moment, kissing her with one burning kiss of
+passion, then with cold, terrible lips of renunciation.
+
+“I am your wife!” she whispered to him. In that moment, throbbing,
+exalted, quivering in her first sweet, tumultuous surrender to love, she
+would have given her all, her life, to be in his arms again, to meet his
+lips, to put forever out of his power any thought of wild sacrifice.
+
+          *****
+
+And on the morning of the next day, when Madeline went out upon the
+porch, Stillwell, haggard and stern, with a husky, incoherent word,
+handed her a message from El Cajon. She read:
+
+
+El Capitan Stewart captured by rebel soldiers in fight at Agua Prieta
+yesterday. He was a sharpshooter in the Federal ranks. Sentenced to
+death Thursday at sunset.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV. The Ride
+
+
+“Stillwell!”
+
+Madeline’s cry was more than the utterance of a breaking heart. It was
+full of agony. But also it uttered the shattering of a structure built
+of false pride, of old beliefs, of bloodless standards, of ignorance
+of self. It betrayed the final conquest of her doubts, and out of
+their darkness blazed the unquenchable spirit of a woman who had found
+herself, her love, her salvation, her duty to a man, and who would not
+be cheated.
+
+The old cattleman stood mute before her, staring at her white face, at
+her eyes of flame.
+
+“Stillwell! I am Stewart’s wife!”
+
+“My Gawd, Miss Majesty!” he burst out. “I knowed somethin’ turrible was
+wrong. Aw, sure it’s a pity—”
+
+“Do you think I’ll let him be shot when I know him now, when I’m no
+longer blind, when I love him?” she asked, with passionate swiftness.
+“I will save him. This is Wednesday morning. I have thirty-six hours to
+save his life. Stillwell, send for Link and the car!”
+
+She went into her office. Her mind worked with extraordinary rapidity
+and clearness. Her plan, born in one lightning-like flash of thought,
+necessitated the careful wording of telegrams to Washington, to New
+York, to San Antonio. These were to Senators, Representatives, men high
+in public and private life, men who would remember her and who would
+serve her to their utmost. Never before had her position meant anything
+to her comparable with what it meant now. Never in all her life had
+money seemed the power that it was then. If she had been poor! A
+shuddering chill froze the thought at its inception. She dispelled
+heartbreaking thoughts. She had power. She had wealth. She would set
+into operation all the unlimited means these gave her—the wires
+and pulleys and strings underneath the surface of political and
+international life, the open, free, purchasing value of money or the
+deep, underground, mysterious, incalculably powerful influence moved
+by gold. She could save Stewart. She must await results—deadlocked in
+feeling, strained perhaps almost beyond endurance, because the suspense
+would be great; but she would allow no possibility of failure to enter
+her mind.
+
+When she went outside the car was there with Link, helmet in hand, a
+cool, bright gleam in his eyes, and with Stillwell, losing his haggard
+misery, beginning to respond to Madeline’s spirit.
+
+“Link, drive Stillwell to El Cajon in time for him to catch the El Paso
+train,” she said. “Wait there for his return, and if any message comes
+from him, telephone it at once to me.”
+
+Then she gave Stillwell the telegrams to send from El Cajon and drafts
+to cash in El Paso. She instructed him to go before the rebel junta,
+then stationed at Juarez, to explain the situation, to bid them expect
+communications from Washington officials requesting and advising
+Stewart’s exchange as a prisoner of war, to offer to buy his release
+from the rebel authorities.
+
+When Stillwell had heard her through his huge, bowed form straightened,
+a ghost of his old smile just moved his lips. He was no longer young,
+and hope could not at once drive away stern and grim realities. As he
+bent over her hand his manner appeared courtly and reverent. But either
+he was speechless or felt the moment not one for him to break silence.
+
+He climbed to a seat beside Link, who pocketed the watch he had been
+studying and leaned over the wheel. There was a crack, a muffled sound
+bursting into a roar, and the big car jerked forward to bound over the
+edge of the slope, to leap down the long incline, to shoot out upon the
+level valley floor and disappear in moving dust.
+
+For the first time in days Madeline visited the gardens, the corrals,
+the lakes, the quarters of the cowboys. Though imagining she was calm,
+she feared she looked strange to Nels, to Nick, to Frankie Slade, to
+those boys best known to her. The situation for them must have been one
+of tormenting pain and bewilderment. They acted as if they wanted to
+say something to her, but found themselves spellbound. She wondered—did
+they know she was Stewart’s wife? Stillwell had not had time to tell
+them; besides, he would not have mentioned the fact. These cowboys only
+knew that Stewart was sentenced to be shot; they knew if Madeline had
+not been angry with him he would not have gone in desperate fighting
+mood across the border. She spoke of the weather, of the horses and
+cattle, asked Nels when he was to go on duty, and turned away from the
+wide, sunlit, adobe-arched porch where the cowboys stood silent and
+bareheaded. Then one of her subtle impulses checked her.
+
+“Nels, you and Nick need not go on duty to-day,” she said. “I may want
+you. I—I—”
+
+She hesitated, paused, and stood lingering there. Her glance had fallen
+upon Stewart’s big black horse prancing in a near-by corral.
+
+“I have sent Stillwell to El Paso,” she went on, in a low voice she
+failed to hold steady. “He will save Stewart. I have to tell you—I am
+Stewart’s wife!”
+
+She felt the stricken amaze that made these men silent and immovable.
+With level gaze averted she left them. Returning to the house and her
+room, she prepared for something—for what? To wait!
+
+Then a great invisible shadow seemed to hover behind her. She essayed
+many tasks, to fail of attention, to find that her mind held only
+Stewart and his fortunes. Why had he become a Federal? She reflected
+that he had won his title, El Capitan, fighting for Madero, the rebel.
+But Madero was now a Federal, and Stewart was true to him. In crossing
+the border had Stewart any other motive than the one he had implied to
+Madeline in his mocking smile and scornful words, “You might have saved
+me a hell of a lot of trouble!” What trouble? She felt again the cold
+shock of contact with the gun she had dropped in horror. He meant the
+trouble of getting himself shot in the only way a man could seek death
+without cowardice. But had he any other motive? She recalled Don Carlos
+and his guerrillas. Then the thought leaped up in her mind with gripping
+power that Stewart meant to hunt Don Carlos, to meet him, to kill him.
+It would be the deed of a silent, vengeful, implacable man driven by
+wild justice such as had been the deadly leaven in Monty Price. It was
+a deed to expect of Nels or Nick Steel—and, aye, of Gene Stewart.
+Madeline felt regret that Stewart, as he had climbed so high, had not
+risen above deliberate seeking to kill his enemy, however evil that
+enemy.
+
+The local newspapers, which came regularly a day late from El Paso
+and Douglas, had never won any particular interest from Madeline;
+now, however, she took up any copies she could find and read all the
+information pertaining to the revolution. Every word seemed vital to
+her, of moving significant force.
+
+
+AMERICANS ROBBED BY MEXICAN REBELS
+
+MADERA, STATE OF CHIHUAHUA, MEXICO, July 17.—Having looted the Madera
+Lumber Company’s storehouses of $25,000 worth of goods and robbed scores
+of foreigners of horses and saddles, the rebel command of Gen. Antonio
+Rojas, comprising a thousand men, started westward to-day through the
+state of Sonora for Agnaymas and Pacific coast points.
+
+The troops are headed for Dolores, where a mountain pass leads into
+the state of Sonora. Their entrance will be opposed by 1,000 Maderista
+volunteers, who are reported to be waiting the rebel invasion.
+
+The railroad south of Madera is being destroyed and many Americans who
+were traveling to Chihuahua from Juarez are marooned here.
+
+General Rojas executed five men while here for alleged offenses of a
+trivial character. Gen. Rosalio y Hernandez, Lieut. Cipriano Amador, and
+three soldiers were the unfortunates.
+
+WASHINGTON, July 17.—Somewhere in Mexico Patrick Dunne, an American
+citizen, is in prison under sentence of death. This much and no more
+the State Department learned through Representative Kinkaid of Nebraska.
+Consular officers in various sections of Mexico have been directed to
+make every effort to locate Dunne and save his life.
+
+JUAREZ, MEXICO, July 31.—General Orozco, chief of the rebels, declared
+to-day:
+
+“If the United States will throw down the barriers and let us have
+all the ammunition we can buy, I promise in sixty days to have peace
+restored in Mexico and a stable government in charge.”
+
+CASAS GRANDES, CHIHUAHUA, July 31.—Rebel soldiers looted many homes
+of Mormons near here yesterday. All the Mormon families have fled to
+El Paso. Although General Salazar had two of his soldiers executed
+yesterday for robbing Mormons, he has not made any attempt to stop his
+men looting the unprotected homes of Americans.
+
+Last night’s and to-day’s trains carried many Americans from Pearson,
+Madera, and other localities outside the Mormon settlements. Refugees
+from Mexico continued to pour into El Paso. About one hundred came last
+night, the majority of whom were men. Heretofore few men came.
+
+
+Madeline read on in feverish absorption. It was not a real war, but a
+starving, robbing, burning, hopeless revolution. Five men executed for
+alleged offenses of a trivial nature! What chance had, then, a Federal
+prisoner, an enemy to be feared, an American cowboy in the clutches of
+those crazed rebels?
+
+Madeline endured patiently, endured for long interminable hours while
+holding to her hope with indomitable will.
+
+No message came. At sunset she went outdoors, suffering a torment
+of accumulating suspense. She faced the desert, hoping, praying for
+strength. The desert did not influence her as did the passionless,
+unchangeable stars that had soothed her spirit. It was red, mutable,
+shrouded in shadows, terrible like her mood. A dust-veiled sunset
+colored the vast, brooding, naked waste of rock and sand. The grim
+Chiricahua frowned black and sinister. The dim blue domes of the
+Guadalupes seemed to whisper, to beckon to her. Beyond them somewhere
+was Stewart, awaiting the end of a few brief hours—hours that to her
+were boundless, endless, insupportable.
+
+Night fell. But now the white, pitiless stars failed her. Then she
+sought the seclusion and darkness of her room, there to lie with wide
+eyes, waiting, waiting. She had always been susceptible to the somber,
+mystic unrealities of the night, and now her mind slowly revolved round
+a vague and monstrous gloom. Nevertheless, she was acutely sensitive to
+outside impressions. She heard the measured tread of a guard, the rustle
+of wind stirring the window-curtain, the remote, mournful wail of a
+coyote. By and by the dead silence of the night insulated her with
+leaden oppression. There was silent darkness for so long that when the
+window casements showed gray she believed it was only fancy and that
+dawn would never come. She prayed for the sun not to rise, not to begin
+its short twelve-hour journey toward what might be a fatal setting for
+Stewart. But the dawn did lighten, swiftly she thought, remorselessly.
+Daylight had broken, and this was Thursday!
+
+Sharp ringing of the telephone bell startled her, roused her into
+action. She ran to answer the call.
+
+“Hello—hello—Miss Majesty!” came the hurried reply. “This is Link
+talkin’. Messages for you. Favorable, the operator said. I’m to ride out
+with them. I’ll come a-hummin’.”
+
+That was all. Madeline heard the bang of the receiver as Stevens threw
+it down. She passionately wanted to know more, but was immeasurably
+grateful for so much! Favorable! Then Stillwell had been successful.
+Her heart leaped. Suddenly she became weak and her hands failed of their
+accustomed morning deftness. It took her what seemed a thousand years to
+dress. Breakfast meant nothing to her except that it helped her to pass
+dragging minutes.
+
+Finally a low hum, mounting swiftly to a roar and ending with a sharp
+report, announced the arrival of the car. If her feet had kept pace with
+her heart she would have raced out to meet Link. She saw him, helmet
+thrown back, watch in hand, and he looked up at her with his cool,
+bright smile, with his familiar apologetic manner.
+
+“Fifty-three minutes, Miss Majesty,” he said, “but I hed to ride round a
+herd of steers an’ bump a couple off the trail.”
+
+He gave her a packet of telegrams. Madeline tore them open with shaking
+fingers, began to read with swift, dim eyes. Some were from Washington,
+assuring her of every possible service; some were from New York; others
+written in Spanish were from El Paso, and these she could not wholly
+translate in a brief glance. Would she never find Stillwell’s message?
+It was the last. It was lengthy. It read:
+
+
+Bought Stewart’s release. Also arranged for his transfer as prisoner
+of war. Both matters official. He’s safe if we can get notice to his
+captors. Not sure I’ve reached them by wire. Afraid to trust it. You go
+with Link to Agua Prieta. Take the messages sent you in Spanish. They
+will protect you and secure Stewart’s freedom. Take Nels with you. Stop
+for nothing. Tell Link all—trust him—let him drive that car.
+
+STILLWELL.
+
+          *****
+
+The first few lines of Stillwell’s message lifted Madeline to the
+heights of thanksgiving and happiness. Then, reading on, she experienced
+a check, a numb, icy, sickening pang. At the last line she flung off
+doubt and dread, and in white, cold passion faced the issue.
+
+“Read,” she said, briefly, handing the telegram to Link. He scanned it
+and then looked blankly up at her.
+
+“Link, do you know the roads, the trails—the desert between here and
+Agua Prieta?” she asked.
+
+“Thet’s sure my old stampin’-ground. An’ I know Sonora, too.”
+
+“We must reach Agua Prieta before sunset—long before, so if Stewart is
+in some near-by camp we can get to it in—in time.”
+
+“Miss Majesty, it ain’t possible!” he exclaimed. “Stillwell’s crazy to
+say thet.”
+
+“Link, can an automobile be driven from here into northern Mexico?”
+
+“Sure. But it ’d take time.”
+
+“We must do it in little time,” she went on, in swift eagerness.
+“Otherwise Stewart may be—probably will be—be shot.”
+
+Link Stevens appeared suddenly to grow lax, shriveled, to lose all his
+peculiar pert brightness, to weaken and age.
+
+“I’m only a—a cowboy, Miss Majesty.” He almost faltered. It was a
+singular change in him. “Thet’s an awful ride—down over the border. If
+by some luck I didn’t smash the car I’d turn your hair gray. You’d never
+be no good after thet ride!”
+
+“I am Stewart’s wife,” she answered him and she looked at him, not
+conscious of any motive to persuade or allure, but just to let him know
+the greatness of her dependence upon him.
+
+He started violently—the old action of Stewart, the memorable action of
+Monty Price. This man was of the same wild breed.
+
+Then Madeline’s words flowed in a torrent. “I am Stewart’s wife. I love
+him; I have been unjust to him; I must save him. Link, I have faith in
+you. I beseech you to do your best for Stewart’s sake—for my sake. I’ll
+risk the ride gladly—bravely. I’ll not care where or how you drive. I’d
+far rather plunge into a canyon—go to my death on the rocks—than not
+try to save Stewart.”
+
+How beautiful the response of this rude cowboy—to realize his absolute
+unconsciousness of self, to see the haggard shade burn out of his face,
+the old, cool, devil-may-care spirit return to his eyes, and to feel
+something wonderful about him then! It was more than will or daring or
+sacrifice. A blood-tie might have existed between him and Madeline. She
+sensed again that indefinable brother-like quality, so fine, so almost
+invisible, which seemed to be an inalienable trait in these wild
+cowboys.
+
+“Miss Majesty, thet ride figgers impossible, but I’ll do it!” he
+replied. His cool, bright glance thrilled her. “I’ll need mebbe half an
+hour to go over the car an’ to pack on what I’ll want.”
+
+She could not thank him, and her reply was merely a request that he tell
+Nels and other cowboys off duty to come up to the house. When Link had
+gone Madeline gave a moment’s thought to preparations for the ride. She
+placed what money she had and the telegrams in a satchel. The gown she
+had on was thin and white, not suitable for travel, but she would not
+risk the losing of one moment in changing it. She put on a long coat
+and wound veils round her head and neck, arranging them in a hood so
+she could cover her face when necessary. She remembered to take an extra
+pair of goggles for Nels’s use, and then, drawing on her gloves, she
+went out ready for the ride.
+
+A number of cowboys were waiting. She explained the situation and left
+them in charge of her home. With that she asked Nels to accompany her
+down into the desert. He turned white to his lips, and this occasioned
+Madeline to remember his mortal dread of the car and Link’s driving.
+
+“Nels, I’m sorry to ask you,” she added. “I know you hate the car. But I
+need you—may need you, oh! so much.”
+
+“Why, Miss Majesty, thet’s shore all a mistaken idee of yours about me
+hatin’ the car,” he said, in his slow, soft drawl. “I was only jealous
+of Link; an’ the boys, they made thet joke up on me about bein’ scared
+of ridin’ fast. Shore I’m powerful proud to go. An’ I reckon if you
+hedn’t asked me my feelin’s might hev been some hurt. Because if you’re
+goin’ down among the Greasers you want me.”
+
+His cool, easy speech, his familiar swagger, the smile with which he
+regarded her did not in the least deceive Madeline. The gray was still
+in his face. Incomprehensible as it seemed, Nels had a dread, an uncanny
+fear, and it was of that huge white automobile. But he lied about it.
+Here again was that strange quality of faithfulness.
+
+Madeline heard the buzz of the car. Link appeared driving up the slope.
+He made a short, sliding turn and stopped before the porch. Link had
+tied two long, heavy planks upon the car, one on each side, and in every
+available space he had strapped extra tires. A huge cask occupied one
+back seat, and another seat was full of tools and ropes. There was
+just room in this rear part of the car for Nels to squeeze in. Link put
+Madeline in front beside him, then bent over the wheel. Madeline waved
+her hand at the silent cowboys on the porch. Not an audible good-by was
+spoken.
+
+The car glided out of the yard, leaped from level to slope, and started
+swiftly down the road, out into the open valley. Each stronger rush of
+dry wind in Madeline’s face marked the increase of speed. She took one
+glance at the winding cattle-road, smooth, unobstructed, disappearing
+in the gray of distance. She took another at the leather-garbed,
+leather-helmeted driver beside her, and then she drew the hood of veils
+over her face and fastened it round her neck so there was no possibility
+of its blowing loose.
+
+Harder and stronger pressed the wind till it was like sheeted
+lead forcing her back in her seat. There was a ceaseless, intense,
+inconceivably rapid vibration under her; occasionally she felt a long
+swing, as if she were to be propelled aloft; but no jars disturbed the
+easy celerity of the car. The buzz, the roar of wheels, of heavy body
+in flight, increased to a continuous droning hum. The wind became an
+insupportable body moving toward her, crushing her breast, making the
+task of breathing most difficult. To Madeline the time seemed to
+fly with the speed of miles. A moment came when she detected a faint
+difference in hum and rush and vibration, in the ceaseless sweeping of
+the invisible weight against her. This difference became marked. Link
+was reducing speed. Then came swift change of all sensation, and she
+realized the car had slowed to normal travel.
+
+Madeline removed her hood and goggles. It was a relief to breathe
+freely, to be able to use her eyes. To her right, not far distant, lay
+the little town of Chiricahua. Sight of it made her remember Stewart in
+a way strange to her constant thought of him. To the left inclined the
+gray valley. The red desert was hidden from view, but the Guadalupe
+Mountains loomed close in the southwest.
+
+Opposite Chiricahua, where the road forked, Link Stevens headed the car
+straight south and gradually increased speed. Madeline faced another
+endless gray incline. It was the San Bernardino Valley. The singing of
+the car, the stinging of the wind warned her to draw the hood securely
+down over her face again, and then it was as if she was riding at night.
+The car lurched ahead, settled into that driving speed which wedged
+Madeline back as in a vise. Again the moments went by fleet as the
+miles. Seemingly, there was an acceleration of the car till it reached a
+certain swiftness—a period of time in which it held that pace, and then
+a diminishing of all motion and sound which contributed to Madeline’s
+acute sensation. Uncovering her face, she saw Link was passing another
+village. Could it be Bernardino? She asked Link—repeated the question.
+
+“Sure,” he replied. “Eighty miles.”
+
+Link did not this time apologize for the work of his machine. Madeline
+marked the omission with her first thrill of the ride. Leaning over, she
+glanced at Link’s watch, which he had fastened upon the wheel in front
+of his eyes. A quarter to ten! Link had indeed made short work of the
+valley miles.
+
+Beyond Bernardino Link sheered off the road and put the car to a long,
+low-rising slope. Here the valley appeared to run south under the dark
+brows of the Guadalupes. Link was heading southwest. Madeline observed
+that the grass began to fail as they climbed the ridge; bare, white,
+dusty spots appeared; there were patches of mesquite and cactus and
+scattering areas of broken rock.
+
+She might have been prepared for what she saw from the ridge-top.
+Beneath them the desert blazed. Seen from afar, it was striking enough,
+but riding down into its red jaws gave Madeline the first affront to her
+imperious confidence. All about her ranch had been desert, the valleys
+were desert; but this was different. Here began the red desert,
+extending far into Mexico, far across Arizona and California to the
+Pacific. She saw a bare, hummocky ridge, down which the car was
+gliding, bounding, swinging, and this long slant seemed to merge into a
+corrugated world of rock and sand, patched by flats and basins, streaked
+with canyons and ranges of ragged, saw-toothed stone. The distant Sierra
+Madres were clearer, bluer, less smoky and suggestive of mirage than she
+had ever seen them. Madeline’s sustaining faith upheld her in the
+face of this appalling obstacle. Then the desert that had rolled its
+immensity beneath her gradually began to rise, to lose its distant
+margins, to condense its varying lights and shades, at last to hide its
+yawning depths and looming heights behind red ridges, which were only
+little steps, little outposts, little landmarks at its gates.
+
+The bouncing of the huge car, throwing Madeline up, directed her
+attention and fastened it upon the way Link Stevens was driving and upon
+the immediate foreground. Then she discovered that he was following an
+old wagon-road. At the foot of that long slope they struck into rougher
+ground, and here Link took to a cautious zigzag course. The wagon-road
+disappeared and then presently reappeared. But Link did not always hold
+to it. He made cuts, detours, crosses, and all the time seemed to be
+getting deeper into a maze of low, red dunes, of flat canyon-beds lined
+by banks of gravel, of ridges mounting higher. Yet Link Stevens kept on
+and never turned back. He never headed into a place that he could not
+pass. Up to this point of travel he had not been compelled to back the
+car, and Madeline began to realize that it was the cowboy’s wonderful
+judgment of ground that made advance possible. He knew the country;
+he was never at a loss; after making a choice of direction, he never
+hesitated.
+
+Then at the bottom of a wide canyon he entered a wash where the wheels
+just barely turned in dragging sand. The sun beat down white-hot, the
+dust arose, there was not a breath of wind; and no sound save the
+slide of a rock now and then down the weathered slopes and the labored
+chugging of the machine. The snail pace, like the sand at the wheels,
+began to drag at Madeline’s faith. Link gave over the wheel to Madeline,
+and, leaping out, he called Nels. When they untied the long planks and
+laid them straight in front for the wheels to pass over Madeline saw
+how wise had been Link’s forethought. With the aid of those planks they
+worked the car through sand and gravel otherwise impossible to pass.
+
+This canyon widened and opened into space affording an unobstructed view
+for miles. The desert sloped up in steps, and in the morning light, with
+the sun bright on the mesas and escarpments, it was gray, drab, stone,
+slate, yellow, pink, and, dominating all, a dull rust-red. There was
+level ground ahead, a wind-swept floor as hard as rock. Link rushed the
+car over this free distance. Madeline’s ears filled with a droning hum
+like the sound of a monstrous, hungry bee and with a strange, incessant
+crinkle which she at length guessed to be the spreading of sheets of
+gravel from under the wheels. The giant car attained such a speed that
+Madeline could only distinguish the colored landmarks to the fore, and
+these faded as the wind stung her eyes.
+
+Then Link began the ascent of the first step, a long, sweeping, barren
+waste with dunes of wonderful violet and heliotrope hues. Here were
+well-defined marks of an old wagon-road lately traversed by cattle. The
+car climbed steadily, surmounted the height, faced another long bench
+that had been cleaned smooth by desert winds. The sky was an intense,
+light, steely blue, hard on the eyes. Madeline veiled her face, and did
+not uncover it until Link had reduced the racing speed. From the summit
+of the next ridge she saw more red ruin of desert.
+
+A deep wash crossing the road caused Link Stevens to turn due south.
+There was a narrow space along the wash just wide enough for the
+car. Link seemed oblivious to the fact that the outside wheels were
+perilously close to the edge. Madeline heard the rattle of loosened
+gravel and earth sliding into the gully. The wash widened and opened out
+into a sandy flat. Link crossed this and turned up on the opposite side.
+Rocks impeded the progress of the car, and these had to be rolled out
+of the way. The shelves of silt, apparently ready to slide with the
+slightest weight, the little tributary washes, the boulder-strewn
+stretches of slope, the narrow spaces allowing no more than a foot for
+the outside wheels, the spear-pointed cactus that had to be avoided—all
+these obstacles were as nothing to the cowboy driver. He kept on, and
+when he came to the road again he made up for the lost time by speed.
+
+Another height was reached, and here Madeline fancied that Link had
+driven the car to the summit of a high pass between two mountain ranges.
+The western slope of that pass appeared to be exceedingly rough and
+broken. Below it spread out another gray valley, at the extreme end of
+which glistened a white spot that Link grimly called Douglas. Part
+of that white spot was Agua Prieta, the sister town across the line.
+Madeline looked with eyes that would fain have pierced the intervening
+distance.
+
+The descent of the pass began under difficulties. Sharp stones and
+cactus spikes penetrated the front tires, bursting them with ripping
+reports. It took time to replace them. The planks were called into
+requisition to cross soft places. A jagged point of projecting rock had
+to be broken with a sledge. At length a huge stone appeared to hinder
+any further advance. Madeline caught her breath. There was no room to
+turn the car. But Link Stevens had no intention of such a thing. He
+backed the car to a considerable distance, then walked forward. He
+appeared to be busy around the boulder for a moment and returned down
+the road on the run. A heavy explosion, a cloud of dust, and a rattle of
+falling fragments told Madeline that her indomitable driver had cleared
+a passage with dynamite. He seemed to be prepared for every emergency.
+Madeline looked to see what effect the discovery of Link carrying
+dynamite would have upon the silent Nels.
+
+“Shore, now, Miss Majesty, there ain’t nothin’ goin’ to stop Link,” said
+Nels, with a reassuring smile. The significance of the incident had
+not dawned upon Nels, or else he was heedless of it. After all, he was
+afraid only of the car and Link, and that fear was an idiosyncrasy.
+Madeline began to see her cowboy driver with clearer eyes and his spirit
+awoke something in her that made danger of no moment. Nels likewise
+subtly responded, and, though he was gray-faced, tight-lipped, his eyes
+took on the cool, bright gleam of Link’s.
+
+Cactus barred the way, rocks barred the way, gullies barred the way, and
+these Nels addressed in the grim humor with which he was wont to view
+tragic things. A mistake on Link’s part, a slip of a wheel, a bursting
+of a tire at a critical moment, an instant of the bad luck which might
+happen a hundred times on a less perilous ride—any one of these might
+spell disaster for the car, perhaps death to the occupants. Again and
+again Link used the planks to cross washes in sand. Sometimes the wheels
+ran all the length of the planks, sometimes slipped off. Presently
+Link came to a ditch where water had worn deep into the road. Without
+hesitation he placed them, measuring distance carefully, and then
+started across. The danger was in ditching the machine. One of the
+planks split, sagged a little, but Link made the crossing without a
+slip.
+
+The road led round under an overhanging cliff and was narrow, rocky, and
+slightly downhill. Bidding Madeline and Nels walk round this hazardous
+corner, Link drove the car. Madeline expected to hear it crash down
+into the canyon, but presently she saw Link waiting to take them aboard
+again. Then came steeper parts of the road, places that Link could run
+down if he had space below to control the car, and on the other hand
+places where the little inclines ended in abrupt ledges upon one side
+or a declivity upon the other. Here the cowboy, with ropes on the wheels
+and half-hitches upon the spurs of rock, let the car slide down.
+
+Once at a particularly bad spot Madeline exclaimed involuntarily,
+“Oh, time is flying!” Link Stevens looked up at her as if he had been
+reproved for his care. His eyes shone like the glint of steel on
+ice. Perhaps that utterance of Madeline’s was needed to liberate his
+recklessness to its utmost. Certainly he put the car to seemingly
+impossible feats. He rimmed gullies, he hurdled rising ground, he leaped
+little breaks in the even road. He made his machine cling like a goat
+to steep inclines; he rounded corners with the inside wheels higher
+than the outside; he passed over banks of soft earth that caved in the
+instant he crossed weak places. He kept on and on, threading tortuous
+passages through rock-strewn patches, keeping to the old road where it
+was clear, abandoning it for open spaces, and always going down.
+
+At length a mile of clean, brown slope, ridged and grooved like a
+washboard, led gently down to meet the floor of the valley, where the
+scant grama-grass struggled to give a tinge of gray. The road appeared
+to become more clearly defined, and could be seen striking straight
+across the valley.
+
+To Madeline’s dismay, that road led down to a deep, narrow wash. It
+plunged on one side, ascended on the other at a still steeper angle. The
+crossing would have been laborsome for a horse; for an automobile it was
+unpassable. Link turned the car to the right along the rim and drove as
+far along the wash as the ground permitted. The gully widened, deepened
+all the way. Then he took the other direction. When he made this turn
+Madeline observed that the sun had perceptibly begun its slant westward.
+It shone in her face, glaring and wrathful. Link drove back to the road,
+crossed it, and kept on down the line of the wash. It was a deep cut in
+red earth, worn straight down by swift water in the rainy seasons. It
+narrowed. In some places it was only five feet wide. Link studied these
+points and looked up the slope, and seemed to be making deductions. The
+valley was level now, and there were nothing but little breaks in the
+rim of the wash. Link drove mile after mile, looking for a place to
+cross, and there was none. Finally progress to the south was obstructed
+by impassable gullies where the wash plunged into the head of a canyon.
+It was necessary to back the car a distance before there was room to
+turn. Madeline looked at the imperturbable driver. His face revealed no
+more than the same old hard, immutable character. When he reached the
+narrowest points, which had so interested him, he got out of the car and
+walked from place to place. Once with a little jump he cleared the wash.
+Then Madeline noted that the farther rim was somewhat lower. In a flash
+she divined Link’s intention. He was hunting a place to jump the car
+over the crack in the ground.
+
+Soon he found one that seemed to suit him, for he tied his red scarf
+upon a greasewood-bush. Then, returning to the car, he clambered in,
+and, muttering, broke his long silence: “This ain’t no air-ship, but
+I’ve outfiggered thet damn wash.” He backed up the gentle slope and
+halted just short of steeper ground. His red scarf waved in the wind.
+Hunching low over the wheel, he started, slowly at first, then faster,
+and then faster. The great car gave a spring like a huge tiger. The
+impact of suddenly formed wind almost tore Madeline out of her seat. She
+felt Nels’s powerful hands on her shoulders. She closed her eyes. The
+jolting headway of the car gave place to a gliding rush. This was broken
+by a slight jar, and then above the hum and roar rose a cowboy yell.
+Madeline waited with strained nerves for the expected crash. It did not
+come. Opening her eyes, she saw the level valley floor without a break.
+She had not even noticed the instant when the car had shot over the
+wash.
+
+A strange breathlessness attacked her, and she attributed it to the
+celerity with which she was being carried along. Pulling the hood down
+over her face, she sank low in the seat. The whir of the car now seemed
+to be a world-filling sound. Again the feeling of excitement, the
+poignancy of emotional heights, the ever-present impending sense of
+catastrophe became held in abeyance to the sheer intensity of physical
+sensations. There came a time when all her strength seemed to unite in
+an effort to lift her breast against the terrific force of the wind—to
+draw air into her flattened lungs. She became partly dazed. The darkness
+before her eyes was not all occasioned by the blood that pressed like a
+stone mask on her face. She had a sense that she was floating, sailing,
+drifting, reeling, even while being borne swiftly as a thunderbolt. Her
+hands and arms were immovable under the weight of mountains. There was
+a long, blank period from which she awakened to feel an arm supporting
+her. Then she rallied. The velocity of the car had been cut to the speed
+to which she was accustomed. Throwing back the hood, she breathed freely
+again, recovered fully.
+
+The car was bowling along a wide road upon the outskirts of a city.
+Madeline asked what place it could be.
+
+“Douglas,” replied Link. “An’ jest around is Agua Prieta!”
+
+That last name seemed to stun Madeline. She heard no more, and saw
+little until the car stopped. Nels spoke to some one. Then sight of
+khaki-clad soldiers quickened Madeline’s faculties. She was on the
+boundary-line between the United States and Mexico, and Agua Prieta,
+with its white and blue walled houses, its brown-tiled roofs, lay before
+her. A soldier, evidently despatched by Nels, returned and said an
+officer would come at once. Madeline’s attention was centered in the
+foreground, upon the guard over the road, upon the dry, dusty town
+beyond; but she was aware of noise and people in the rear. A cavalry
+officer approached the car, stared, and removed his sombrero.
+
+“Can you tell me anything about Stewart, the American cowboy who was
+captured by rebels a few days ago?” asked Madeline.
+
+“Yes,” replied the officer. “There was a skirmish over the line between
+a company of Federals and a large force of guerrillas and rebels. The
+Federals were driven west along the line. Stewart is reported to have
+done reckless fighting and was captured. He got a Mexican sentence. He
+is known here along the border, and the news of his capture stirred
+up excitement. We did all we could to get his release. The guerrillas
+feared to execute him here, and believed he might be aided to escape. So
+a detachment departed with him for Mezquital.”
+
+“He was sentenced to be shot Thursday at sunset—to-night?”
+
+“Yes. It was rumored there was a personal resentment against Stewart. I
+regret that I can’t give you definite information. If you are friends of
+Stewart—relatives—I might find—”
+
+“I am his wife,” interrupted Madeline. “Will you please read these.” She
+handed him the telegrams. “Advise me—help me, if you can?”
+
+With a wondering glance at her the officer received the telegrams. He
+read several, and whistled low in amaze. His manner became quick, alert,
+serious.
+
+“I can’t read these written in Spanish, but I know the names signed.”
+ Swiftly he ran through the others.
+
+“Why, these mean Stewart’s release has been authorized. They explain
+mysterious rumors we have heard here. Greaser treachery! For some
+strange reason messages from the rebel junta have failed to reach their
+destination. We heard reports of an exchange for Stewart, but nothing
+came of it. No one departed for Mezquital with authority. What an
+outrage! Come, I’ll go with you to General Salazar, the rebel chief in
+command. I know him. Perhaps we can find out something.”
+
+Nels made room for the officer. Link sent the car whirring across
+the line into Mexican territory. Madeline’s sensibilities were now
+exquisitely alive. The white road led into Agua Prieta, a town of
+colored walls and roofs. Goats and pigs and buzzards scattered before
+the roar of the machine. Native women wearing black mantles peeped
+through iron-barred windows. Men wearing huge sombreros, cotton shirts
+and trousers, bright sashes round their waists, and sandals, stood
+motionless, watching the car go by. The road ended in an immense plaza,
+in the center of which was a circular structure that in some measure
+resembled a corral. It was a bull-ring, where the national sport of
+bull-fighting was carried on. Just now it appeared to be quarters for a
+considerable army. Ragged, unkempt rebels were everywhere, and the whole
+square was littered with tents, packs, wagons, arms. There were horses,
+mules, burros, and oxen.
+
+The place was so crowded that Link was compelled to drive slowly up
+to the entrance to the bull-ring. Madeline caught a glimpse of tents
+inside, then her view was obstructed by a curious, pressing throng.
+The cavalry officer leaped from the car and pushed his way into the
+entrance.
+
+“Link, do you know the road to this Mezquital?” asked Madeline.
+
+“Yes. I’ve been there.”
+
+“How far is it?”
+
+“Aw, not so very far,” he mumbled.
+
+“Link! How many miles?” she implored.
+
+“I reckon only a few.”
+
+Madeline knew that he lied. She asked him no more; nor looked at him,
+nor at Nels. How stifling was this crowded, ill-smelling plaza! The sun,
+red and lowering, had sloped far down in the west, but still burned
+with furnace heat. A swarm of flies whirled over the car. The shadows of
+low-sailing buzzards crossed Madeline’s sight. Then she saw a row of the
+huge, uncanny black birds sitting upon the tiled roof of a house. They
+had neither an air of sleeping nor resting. They were waiting. She
+fought off a horrible ghastly idea before its full realization. These
+rebels and guerrillas—what lean, yellow, bearded wretches! They
+curiously watched Link as he went working over the car. No two were
+alike, and all were ragged. They had glittering eyes sunk deep in their
+heads. They wore huge sombreros of brown and black felt, of straw, of
+cloth. Every man wore a belt or sash into which was thrust some kind of
+weapon. Some wore boots, some shoes, some moccasins, some sandals, and
+many were barefooted. They were an excited, jabbering, gesticulating
+mob. Madeline shuddered to think how a frenzy to spill blood could run
+through these poor revolutionists. If it was liberty they fought for,
+they did not show the intelligence in their faces. They were like wolves
+upon a scent. They affronted her, shocked her. She wondered if their
+officers were men of the same class. What struck her at last and stirred
+pity in her was the fact that every man of the horde her swift glance
+roamed over, however dirty and bedraggled he was, wore upon him some
+ornament, some tassel or fringe or lace, some ensign, some band,
+bracelet, badge, or belt, some twist of scarf, something that betrayed
+the vanity which was the poor jewel of their souls. It was in the race.
+
+Suddenly the crowd parted to let the cavalry officer and a rebel of
+striking presence get to the car.
+
+“Madam, it is as I suspected,” said the officer, quickly. “The
+messages directing Stewart’s release never reached Salazar. They were
+intercepted. But even without them we might have secured Stewart’s
+exchange if it had not been for the fact that one of his captors
+wanted him shot. This guerrilla intercepted the orders, and then was
+instrumental in taking Stewart to Mezquital. It is exceedingly sad. Why,
+he should be a free man this instant. I regret—”
+
+“Who did this—this thing?” cried Madeline, cold and sick. “Who is the
+guerrilla?”
+
+“Senor Don Carlos Martinez. He has been a bandit, a man of influence in
+Sonora. He is more of a secret agent in the affairs of the revolution
+than an active participator. But he has seen guerrilla service.”
+
+“Don Carlos! Stewart in his power! O God!” Madeline sank down, almost
+overcome. Then two great hands, powerful, thrilling, clasped her
+shoulders, and Nels bent over her.
+
+“Miss Majesty, shore we’re wastin’ time here,” he said. His voice, like
+his hands, was uplifting. She wheeled to him in trembling importunity.
+How cold, bright, blue the flash of his eyes! They told Madeline she
+must not weaken. But she could not speak her thought to Nels—could only
+look at Link.
+
+“It figgers impossible, but I’ll do it!” said Link Stevens, in answer
+to her voiceless query. The cold, grim, wild something about her cowboys
+blanched Madeline’s face, steeled her nerve, called to the depths of her
+for that last supreme courage of a woman. The spirit of the moment was
+nature with Link and Nels; with her it must be passion.
+
+“Can I get a permit to go into the interior—to Mezquital?” asked
+Madeline of the officer.
+
+“You are going on? Madam, it’s a forlorn hope. Mezquital is a hundred
+miles away. But there’s a chance—the barest chance if your man can
+drive this car. The Mexicans are either murderous or ceremonious in
+their executions. The arrangements for Stewart’s will be elaborate. But,
+barring unusual circumstances, it will take place precisely at the hour
+designated. You need no permit. Your messages are official papers. But
+to save time, perhaps delay, I suggest you take this Mexican, Senor
+Montes, with you. He outranks Don Carlos and knows the captain of the
+Mezquital detachment.”
+
+“Ah! Then Don Carlos is not in command of the forces holding Stewart?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“I thank you, sir. I shall not forget your kindness,” concluded
+Madeline.
+
+She bowed to Senor Montes, and requested him to enter the car. Nels
+stowed some of the paraphernalia away, making room in the rear seat.
+Link bent over the wheel. The start was so sudden, with such crack and
+roar, that the crowd split in wild disorder. Out of the plaza the car
+ran, gathering headway; down a street lined by white and blue walls;
+across a square where rebels were building barricades; along a railroad
+track full of iron flat-cars that carried mounted pieces of artillery;
+through the outlying guards, who waved to the officer, Montes.
+
+Madeline bound her glasses tightly over her eyes, and wound veils round
+the lower part of her face. She was all in a strange glow, she had begun
+to burn, to throb, to thrill, to expand, and she meant to see all that
+was possible. The sullen sun, red as fire, hung over the mountain range
+in the west. How low it had sunk! Before her stretched a narrow, white
+road, dusty, hard as stone—a highway that had been used for centuries.
+If it had been wide enough to permit passing a vehicle it would have
+been a magnificent course for automobiles. But the weeds and the dusty
+flowers and the mesquite boughs and arms of cactus brushed the car as it
+sped by.
+
+Faster, faster, faster! That old resistless weight began to press
+Madeline back; the old incessant bellow of wind filled her ears. Link
+Stevens hunched low over the wheel. His eyes were hidden under leather
+helmet and goggles, but the lower part of his face was unprotected. He
+resembled a demon, so dark and stone-hard and strangely grinning was he.
+All at once Madeline realized how matchless, how wonderful a driver was
+this cowboy. She divined that weakening could not have been possible to
+Link Stevens. He was a cowboy, and he really was riding that car, making
+it answer to his will, as it had been born in him to master a horse. He
+had never driven to suit himself, had never reached an all-satisfying
+speed until now. Beyond that his motive was to save Stewart—to
+make Madeline happy. Life was nothing to him. That fact gave him
+the superhuman nerve to face the peril of this ride. Because of his
+disregard of self he was able to operate the machine, to choose the
+power, the speed, the guidance, the going with the best judgment and
+highest efficiency possible. Madeline knew he would get her to Mezquital
+in time to save Stewart or he would kill her in the attempt.
+
+The white, narrow road flashed out of the foreground, slipped with
+inconceivable rapidity under the car. When she marked a clump of cactus
+far ahead it seemed to shoot at her, to speed behind her even the
+instant she noticed it. Nevertheless, Madeline knew Link was not putting
+the car to its limit. Swiftly as he was flying, he held something in
+reserve. But he took the turns of the road as if he knew the way was
+cleared before him. He trusted to a cowboy’s luck. A wagon in one of
+those curves, a herd of cattle, even a frightened steer, meant a wreck.
+Madeline never closed her eyes at these fateful moments. If Link could
+stake himself, the others, and her upon such chance, what could not she
+stake with her motive? So while the great car hummed and thrummed,
+and darted round the curves on two wheels, and sped on like a bullet,
+Madeline lived that ride, meant to feel it to the uttermost.
+
+But it was not all swift going. A stretch of softer ground delayed
+Link, made the car labor and pant and pound and grind through gravel.
+Moreover, the cactus plants assumed an alarming ability to impede
+progress. Long, slender arms of the ocotillo encroached upon the road;
+broad, round leaves did likewise; fluted columns, fallen like timbers
+in a forest, lay along the narrow margins; the bayonet cactus and the
+bisnagi leaned threateningly; clusters of maguey, shadowed by the huge,
+looming saguaro, infringed upon the highway to Mezquital. And every
+leaf and blade and branch of cactus bore wicked thorns, any one of which
+would be fatal to a tire.
+
+It came at length, the bursting report. The car lurched, went on like
+a crippled thing, and halted, obedient to the master hand at the wheel.
+Swift as Link was in replacing the tire, he lost time. The red sun, more
+sullen, duskier as it neared the black, bold horizon, appeared to mock
+Madeline, to eye her in derision.
+
+Link leaped in, and the car sprang ahead. The road-bed changed, the
+trees changed—all the surroundings changed except the cactus. There
+were miles of rolling ridges, rough in the hollows, and short rocky bits
+of road, and washes to cross, and a low, sandy swale where mesquites
+grouped a forest along a trickling inch-deep sheet of water. Green
+things softened the hard, dry aspect of the desert. There were birds and
+parrots and deer and wild boars. All these Madeline remarked with clear
+eyes, with remarkable susceptibility of attention; but what she strained
+to see, what she yearned for, prayed for, was straight, unobstructed
+road.
+
+But the road began to wind up; it turned and twisted in tantalizing
+lazy curves; it was in no hurry to surmount a hill that began to assume
+proportions of a mountain; it was leisurely, as were all things in
+Mexico except strife. That was quick, fierce, bloody—it was Spanish.
+
+The descent from that elevation was difficult, extremely hazardous, yet
+Link Stevens drove fast. At the base of the hill rocks and sand all but
+halted him for good. Then in taking an abrupt curve a grasping spear
+ruined another tire. This time the car rasped across the road into the
+cactus, bursting the second front-wheel tire. Like demons indeed Link
+and Nels worked. Shuddering, Madeline felt the declining heat of the
+sun, saw with gloomy eyes the shading of the red light over the desert.
+She did not look back to see how near the sun was to the horizon. She
+wanted to ask Nels. Strange as anything on this terrible ride was the
+absence of speech. As yet no word had been spoken. Madeline wanted to
+shriek to Link to hurry. But he was more than humanly swift in all his
+actions. So with mute lips, with the fire in her beginning to chill,
+with a lifelessness menacing her spirit, she watched, hoped against
+hope, prayed for a long, straight, smooth road.
+
+Quite suddenly she saw it, seemingly miles of clear, narrow lane
+disappearing like a thin, white streak in distant green. Perhaps Link
+Stevens’s heart leaped like Madeline’s. The huge car with a roar and a
+jerk seemed to answer Madeline’s call, a cry no less poignant because it
+was silent.
+
+Faster, faster, faster! The roar became a whining hum. Then for Madeline
+sound ceased to be anything—she could not hear. The wind was now heavy,
+imponderable, no longer a swift, plastic thing, but solid, like an
+on-rushing wall. It bore down upon Madeline with such resistless weight
+that she could not move. The green of desert plants along the road
+merged in two shapeless fences, sliding at her from the distance.
+Objects ahead began to blur the white road, to grow streaky, like rays
+of light, the sky to take on more of a reddening haze.
+
+Madeline, realizing her sight was failing her, turned for one more look
+at Link Stevens. It had come to be his ride almost as much as it was
+hers. He hunched lower than ever, rigid, strained to the last degree, a
+terrible, implacable driver. This was his hour, and he was great. If he
+so much as brushed a flying tire against one of the millions of spikes
+clutching out, striking out from the cactus, there would be a shock,
+a splitting wave of air—an end. Madeline thought she saw that Link’s
+bulging cheek and jaw were gray, that his tight-shut lips were white,
+that the smile was gone. Then he really was human—not a demon. She felt
+a strange sense of brotherhood. He understood a woman’s soul as Monty
+Price had understood it. Link was the lightning-forged automaton, the
+driving, relentless, unconquerable instrument of a woman’s will. He was
+a man whose force was directed by a woman’s passion. He reached up to
+her height, felt her love, understood the nature of her agony. These
+made him heroic. But it was the hard life, the wild years of danger on
+the desert, the companionship of ruthless men, the elemental, that made
+possible his physical achievement. Madeline loved his spirit then and
+gloried in the man.
+
+She had pictured upon her heart, never to be forgotten, this little
+hunched, deformed figure of Link’s hanging with dauntless, with
+deathless grip over the wheel, his gray face like a marble mask.
+
+That was Madeline’s last clear sensation upon the ride. Blinded, dazed,
+she succumbed to the demands upon her strength. She reeled, fell back,
+only vaguely aware of a helping hand. Confusion seized her senses.
+All about her was a dark chaos through which she was rushing, rushing,
+rushing under the wrathful red eye of a setting sun. Then, as there was
+no more sound or sight for her, she felt there was no color. But the
+rush never slackened—a rush through opaque, limitless space.
+For moments, hours, ages she was propelled with the velocity of a
+shooting-star. The earth seemed a huge automobile. And it sped with
+her down an endless white track through the universe. Looming, ghostly,
+ghastly, spectral forms of cacti plants, large as pine-trees, stabbed
+her with giant spikes. She became an unstable being in a shapeless,
+colorless, soundless cosmos of unrelated things, but always rushing,
+even to meet the darkness that haunted her and never reached her.
+
+But at an end of infinite time that rush ceased. Madeline lost the queer
+feeling of being disembodied by a frightfully swift careening through
+boundless distance. She distinguished voices, low at first, apparently
+far away. Then she opened her eyes to blurred but conscious sight.
+
+The car had come to a stop. Link was lying face down over the wheel.
+Nels was rubbing her hands, calling to her. She saw a house with clean
+whitewashed wall and brown-tiled roof. Beyond, over a dark mountain
+range, peeped the last red curve, the last beautiful ray of the setting
+sun.
+
+
+
+
+XXV. At the End of the Road
+
+
+Madeline saw that the car was surrounded by armed Mexicans. They
+presented a contrast to the others she had seen that day; she wondered a
+little at their silence, at their respectful front.
+
+Suddenly a sharp spoken order opened up the ranks next to the house.
+Senor Montes appeared in the break, coming swiftly. His dark face wore a
+smile; his manner was courteous, important, authoritative.
+
+“Senora, it is not too late!”
+
+He spoke her language with an accent strange to her, so that it seemed
+to hinder understanding.
+
+“Senora, you got here in time,” he went on. “El Capitan Stewart will be
+free.”
+
+“Free!” she whispered.
+
+She rose, reeling.
+
+“Come,” replied Montes, taking her arm. “Perdoneme, Senora.”
+
+Without his assistance she would have fallen wholly upon Nels, who
+supported her on the other side. They helped her alight from the car.
+For a moment the white walls, the hazy red sky, the dark figures of the
+rebels, whirled before Madeline’s eyes. She took a few steps, swaying
+between her escorts; then the confusion of her sight and mind passed
+away. It was as if she quickened with a thousand vivifying currents,
+as if she could see and hear and feel everything in the world, as if
+nothing could be overlooked, forgotten, neglected.
+
+She turned back, remembering Link. He was lurching from the car, helmet
+and goggles thrust back, the gray shade gone from his face, the cool,
+bright gleam of his eyes disappearing for something warmer.
+
+Senor Montes led Madeline and her cowboys through a hall to a patio,
+and on through a large room with flooring of rough, bare boards that
+rattled, into a smaller room full of armed quiet rebels facing an open
+window.
+
+Madeline scanned the faces of these men, expecting to see Don Carlos.
+But he was not present. A soldier addressed her in Spanish too swiftly
+uttered, too voluble for her to translate. But, like Senor Montes, he
+was gracious and, despite his ragged garb and uncouth appearance, he
+bore the unmistakable stamp of authority.
+
+Montes directed Madeline’s attention to a man by the window. A loose
+scarf of vivid red hung from his hand.
+
+“Senora, they were waiting for the sun to set when we arrived,” said
+Montes. “The signal was about to be given for Senor Stewart’s walk to
+death.”
+
+“Stewart’s walk!” echoed Madeline.
+
+“Ah, Senora, let me tell you his sentence—the sentence I have had the
+honor and happiness to revoke for you.”
+
+Stewart had been court-martialed and sentenced according to a Mexican
+custom observed in cases of brave soldiers to whom honorable and fitting
+executions were due. His hour had been set for Thursday when the sun had
+sunk. Upon signal he was to be liberated and was free to walk out into
+the road, to take any direction he pleased. He knew his sentence; knew
+that death awaited him, that every possible avenue of escape was blocked
+by men with rifles ready. But he had not the slightest idea at what
+moment or from what direction the bullets were to come.
+
+“Senora, we have sent messengers to every squad of waiting soldiers—an
+order that El Capitan is not to be shot. He is ignorant of his release.
+I shall give the signal for his freedom.”
+
+Montes was ceremonious, gallant, emotional. Madeline saw his pride, and
+divined that the situation was one which brought out the vanity, the
+ostentation, as well as the cruelty of his race. He would keep her in
+an agony of suspense, let Stewart start upon that terrible walk in
+ignorance of his freedom. It was the motive of a Spaniard. Suddenly
+Madeline had a horrible quaking fear that Montes lied, that he meant her
+to be a witness of Stewart’s execution. But no, the man was honest;
+he was only barbarous. He would satisfy certain instincts of his
+nature—sentiment, romance, cruelty—by starting Stewart upon that walk,
+by watching Stewart’s actions in the face of seeming death, by seeing
+Madeline’s agony of doubt, fear, pity, love. Almost Madeline felt that
+she could not endure the situation. She was weak and tottering.
+
+“Senora! Ah, it will be one beautiful thing!” Montes caught the scarf
+from the rebel’s hand. He was glowing, passionate; his eyes had a
+strange, soft, cold flash; his voice was low, intense. He was living
+something splendid to him. “I’ll wave the scarf, Senora. That will be
+the signal. It will be seen down at the other end of the road. Senor
+Stewart’s jailer will see the signal, take off Stewart’s irons, release
+him, open the door for his walk. Stewart will be free. But he will not
+know. He will expect death. As he is a brave man, he will face it. He
+will walk this way. Every step of that walk he will expect to be shot
+from some unknown quarter. But he will not be afraid. Senora, I have
+seen El Captain fighting in the field. What is death to him? Ah, will it
+not be magnificent to see him come forth—to walk down? Senora, you will
+see what a man he is. All the way he will expect cold, swift death. Here
+at this end of the road he will meet his beautiful lady!”
+
+“Is there no—no possibility of a mistake?” faltered Madeline.
+
+“None. My order included unloading of rifles.”
+
+“Don Carlos?”
+
+“He is in irons, and must answer to General Salazar,” replied Montes.
+
+Madeline looked down the deserted road. How strange to see the last
+ruddy glow of the sun over the brow of the mountain range! The thought
+of that sunset had been torture for her. Yet it had passed, and now the
+afterlights were luminous, beautiful, prophetic.
+
+With a heart stricken by both joy and agony, she saw Montes wave the
+scarf.
+
+Then she waited. No change manifested itself down the length of that
+lonely road. There was absolute silence in the room behind her. How
+terribly, infinitely long seemed the waiting! Never in all her future
+life would she forget the quaint pink, blue, and white walled houses
+with their colored roofs. That dusty bare road resembled one of the
+uncovered streets of Pompeii with its look of centuries of solitude.
+
+Suddenly a door opened and a tall man stepped out.
+
+Madeline recognized Stewart. She had to place both hands on the
+window-sill for support, while a storm of emotion swayed her. Like
+a retreating wave it rushed away. Stewart lived. He was free. He had
+stepped out into the light. She had saved him. Life changed for her in
+that instant of realization and became sweet, full, strange.
+
+Stewart shook hands with some one in the doorway. Then he looked up
+and down the road. The door closed behind him. Leisurely he rolled a
+cigarette, stood close to the wall while he scratched a match. Even at
+that distance Madeline’s keen eyes caught the small flame, the first
+little puff of smoke.
+
+Stewart then took to the middle of the road and leisurely began his
+walk.
+
+To Madeline he appeared natural, walked as unconcernedly as if he were
+strolling for pleasure; but the absence of any other living thing,
+the silence, the red haze, the surcharged atmosphere—these were all
+unnatural. From time to time Stewart stopped to turn face forward toward
+houses and corners. Only silence greeted these significant moves of his.
+Once he halted to roll and light another cigarette. After that his step
+quickened.
+
+Madeline watched him, with pride, love, pain, glory combating for a
+mastery over her. This walk of his seemingly took longer than all her
+hours of awakening, of strife, of remorse, longer than the ride to
+find him. She felt that it would be impossible for her to wait till he
+reached the end of the road. Yet in the hurry and riot of her feelings
+she had fleeting panics. What could she say to him? How meet him? Well
+she remembered the tall, powerful form now growing close enough to
+distinguish its dress. Stewart’s face was yet only a dark gleam. Soon
+she would see it—long before he could know she was there. She wanted to
+run to meet him. Nevertheless, she stood rooted to her covert behind the
+window, living that terrible walk with him to the uttermost thought of
+home, sister, mother, sweetheart, wife, life itself—every thought that
+could come to a man stalking to meet his executioners. With all
+that tumult in her mind and heart Madeline still fell prey to the
+incomprehensible variations of emotion possible to a woman. Every step
+Stewart took thrilled her. She had some strange, subtle intuition that
+he was not unhappy, and that he believed beyond shadow of doubt that he
+was walking to his death. His steps dragged a little, though they had
+begun to be swift. The old, hard, physical, wild nerve of the cowboy was
+perhaps in conflict with spiritual growth of the finer man, realizing
+too late that life ought not to be sacrificed.
+
+Then the dark gleam that was his face took shape, grew sharper and
+clearer. He was stalking now, and there was a suggestion of impatience
+in his stride. It took these hidden Mexicans a long time to kill him! At
+a point in the middle of the road, even with the corner of a house
+and opposite to Madeline’s position, Stewart halted stock-still. He
+presented a fair, bold mark to his executioners, and he stood there
+motionless a full moment.
+
+Only silence greeted him. Plain it was to Madeline, and she thought to
+all who had eyes to see, that to Stewart, since for some reason he had
+been spared all along his walk, this was the moment when he ought to be
+mercifully shot. But as no shots came a rugged dignity left him for a
+reckless scorn manifest in the way he strolled, across to the corner of
+the house, rolled yet another cigarette, and, presenting a broad breast
+to the window, smoked and waited.
+
+That wait was almost unendurable for Madeline. Perhaps it was only a
+moment, several moments at the longest, but the time seemed a year.
+Stewart’s face was scornful, hard. Did he suspect treachery on the part
+of his captors, that they meant to play with him as a cat with a
+mouse, to murder him at leisure? Madeline was sure she caught the
+old, inscrutable, mocking smile fleeting across his lips. He held that
+position for what must have been a reasonable time to his mind, then
+with a laugh and a shrug he threw the cigarette into the road. He shook
+his head as if at the incomprehensible motives of men who could have no
+fair reasons now for delay.
+
+He made a sudden violent action that was more than a straightening of
+his powerful frame. It was the old instinctive violence. Then he faced
+north. Madeline read his thought, knew he was thinking of her, calling
+her a last silent farewell. He would serve her to his last breath, leave
+her free, keep his secret. That picture of him, dark-browed, fire-eyed,
+strangely sad and strong, sank indelibly into Madeline’s heart of
+hearts.
+
+The next instant he was striding forward, to force by bold and scornful
+presence a speedy fulfilment of his sentence.
+
+Madeline stepped into the door, crossed the threshold. Stewart staggered
+as if indeed the bullets he expected had pierced him in mortal wound.
+His dark face turned white. His eyes had the rapt stare, the wild fear
+of a man who saw an apparition, yet who doubted his sight. Perhaps he
+had called to her as the Mexicans called to their Virgin; perhaps
+he imagined sudden death had come unawares, and this was her image
+appearing to him in some other life.
+
+“Who—are—you?” he whispered, hoarsely.
+
+She tried to lift her hands, failed, tried again, and held them out,
+trembling.
+
+“It is I. Majesty. Your wife!”
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1095 ***
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+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    .pre       { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%; white-space: pre;}
+
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+div.chapter {page-break-before: always;}
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1095 ***</div>
+    <p>
+      <br><br>
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br>
+    </p>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      by Zane Grey
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      <br> <br>
+    </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      <br> <br>
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <span class='big'><b>CONTENTS</b></span>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I. A Gentleman of the Range </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II. A Secret Kept </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III. Sister and Brother </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV. A Ride From Sunrise To Sunset </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V. The Round-Up </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI. A Gift and A Purchase </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII. Her Majesty’s Rancho </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII. El Capitan </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX. The New Foreman </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> X. Don Carlos’s Vaqueros </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XI. A Band of Guerrillas </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XII. Friends from the East </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIII. Cowboy Golf </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIV. Bandits </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XV. The Mountain Trail </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVI. The Crags </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVII. The Lost Mine of the Padres </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVIII. Bonita </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XIX. Don Carlos </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XX. The Sheriff of El Cajon </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XXI. Unbridled </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXII. The Secret Told </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXIII. The Light of Western Stars </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXIV. The Ride </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXV. At the End of the Road </a>
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br> <br>
+    </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      <br> <br> <a id="link2H_4_0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    
+      <div class='ph1'>THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS</div>
+    
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      I. A Gentleman of the Range
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      When Madeline Hammond stepped from the train at El Cajon, New Mexico, it
+      was nearly midnight, and her first impression was of a huge dark space of
+      cool, windy emptiness, strange and silent, stretching away under great
+      blinking white stars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss, there’s no one to meet you,” said the conductor, rather anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I wired my brother,” she replied. “The train being so late—perhaps
+      he grew tired of waiting. He will be here presently. But, if he should not
+      come—surely I can find a hotel?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “There’s lodgings to be had. Get the station agent to show you. If you’ll
+      excuse me—this is no place for a lady like you to be alone at night.
+      It’s a rough little town—mostly Mexicans, miners, cowboys. And they
+      carouse a lot. Besides, the revolution across the border has stirred up
+      some excitement along the line. Miss, I guess it’s safe enough, if you—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thank you. I am not in the least afraid.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As the train started to glide away Miss Hammond walked towards the dimly
+      lighted station. As she was about to enter she encountered a Mexican with
+      sombrero hiding his features and a blanket mantling his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Is there any one here to meet Miss Hammond?” she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No sabe, Senora,” he replied from under the muffling blanket, and he
+      shuffled away into the shadow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She entered the empty waiting-room. An oil-lamp gave out a thick yellow
+      light. The ticket window was open, and through it she saw there was
+      neither agent nor operator in the little compartment. A telegraph
+      instrument clicked faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline Hammond stood tapping a shapely foot on the floor, and with some
+      amusement contrasted her reception in El Cajon with what it was when she
+      left a train at the Grand Central. The only time she could remember ever
+      having been alone like this was once when she had missed her maid and her
+      train at a place outside of Versailles—an adventure that had been a
+      novel and delightful break in the prescribed routine of her
+      much-chaperoned life. She crossed the waiting-room to a window and,
+      holding aside her veil, looked out. At first she could descry only a few
+      dim lights, and these blurred in her sight. As her eyes grew accustomed to
+      the darkness she saw a superbly built horse standing near the window.
+      Beyond was a bare square. Or, if it was a street, it was the widest one
+      Madeline had ever seen. The dim lights shone from low, flat buildings. She
+      made out the dark shapes of many horses, all standing motionless with
+      drooping heads. Through a hole in the window-glass came a cool breeze, and
+      on it breathed a sound that struck coarsely upon her ear—a
+      discordant mingling of laughter and shout, and the tramp of boots to the
+      hard music of a phonograph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Western revelry,” mused Miss Hammond, as she left the window. “Now, what
+      to do? I’ll wait here. Perhaps the station agent will return soon, or
+      Alfred will come for me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she sat down to wait she reviewed the causes which accounted for the
+      remarkable situation in which she found herself. That Madeline Hammond
+      should be alone, at a late hour, in a dingy little Western railroad
+      station, was indeed extraordinary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The close of her debutante year had been marred by the only unhappy
+      experience of her life—the disgrace of her brother and his leaving
+      home. She dated the beginning of a certain thoughtful habit of mind from
+      that time, and a dissatisfaction with the brilliant life society offered
+      her. The change had been so gradual that it was permanent before she
+      realized it. For a while an active outdoor life—golf, tennis,
+      yachting—kept this realization from becoming morbid introspection.
+      There came a time when even these lost charm for her, and then she
+      believed she was indeed ill in mind. Travel did not help her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There had been months of unrest, of curiously painful wonderment that her
+      position, her wealth, her popularity no longer sufficed. She believed she
+      had lived through the dreams and fancies of a girl to become a woman of
+      the world. And she had gone on as before, a part of the glittering show,
+      but no longer blind to the truth—that there was nothing in her
+      luxurious life to make it significant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sometimes from the depths of her there flashed up at odd moments
+      intimations of a future revolt. She remembered one evening at the opera
+      when the curtain had risen upon a particularly well-done piece of stage
+      scenery—a broad space of deep desolateness, reaching away under an
+      infinitude of night sky, illumined by stars. The suggestion it brought of
+      vast wastes of lonely, rugged earth, of a great, blue-arched vault of
+      starry sky, pervaded her soul with a strange, sweet peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the scene was changed she lost this vague new sense of peace, and she
+      turned away from the stage in irritation. She looked at the long, curved
+      tier of glittering boxes that represented her world. It was a
+      distinguished and splendid world—the wealth, fashion, culture,
+      beauty, and blood of a nation. She, Madeline Hammond, was a part of it.
+      She smiled, she listened, she talked to the men who from time to time
+      strolled into the Hammond box, and she felt that there was not a moment
+      when she was natural, true to herself. She wondered why these people could
+      not somehow, some way be different; but she could not tell what she wanted
+      them to be. If they had been different they would not have fitted the
+      place; indeed, they would not have been there at all. Yet she thought
+      wistfully that they lacked something for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And suddenly realizing she would marry one of these men if she did not
+      revolt, she had been assailed by a great weariness, an icy-sickening sense
+      that life had palled upon her. She was tired of fashionable society. She
+      was tired of polished, imperturbable men who sought only to please her.
+      She was tired of being feted, admired, loved, followed, and importuned;
+      tired of people; tired of houses, noise, ostentation, luxury. She was so
+      tired of herself!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the lonely distances and the passionless stars of boldly painted stage
+      scenery she had caught a glimpse of something that stirred her soul. The
+      feeling did not last. She could not call it back. She imagined that the
+      very boldness of the scene had appealed to her; she divined that the man
+      who painted it had found inspiration, joy, strength, serenity in rugged
+      nature. And at last she knew what she needed—to be alone, to brood
+      for long hours, to gaze out on lonely, silent, darkening stretches, to
+      watch the stars, to face her soul, to find her real self.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then it was she had first thought of visiting the brother who had gone
+      West to cast his fortune with the cattlemen. As it happened, she had
+      friends who were on the eve of starting for California, and she made a
+      quick decision to travel with them. When she calmly announced her
+      intention of going out West her mother had exclaimed in consternation; and
+      her father, surprised into pathetic memory of the black sheep of the
+      family, had stared at her with glistening eyes. “Why, Madeline! You want
+      to see that wild boy!” Then he had reverted to the anger he still felt for
+      his wayward son, and he had forbidden Madeline to go. Her mother forgot
+      her haughty poise and dignity. Madeline, however, had exhibited a will she
+      had never before been known to possess. She stood her ground even to
+      reminding them that she was twenty-four and her own mistress. In the end
+      she had prevailed, and that without betraying the real state of her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her decision to visit her brother had been too hurriedly made and acted
+      upon for her to write him about it, and so she had telegraphed him from
+      New York, and also, a day later, from Chicago, where her traveling friends
+      had been delayed by illness. Nothing could have turned her back then.
+      Madeline had planned to arrive in El Cajon on October 3d, her brother’s
+      birthday, and she had succeeded, though her arrival occurred at the
+      twenty-fourth hour. Her train had been several hours late. Whether or not
+      the message had reached Alfred’s hands she had no means of telling, and
+      the thing which concerned her now was the fact that she had arrived and he
+      was not there to meet her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It did not take long for thought of the past to give way wholly to the
+      reality of the present.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I hope nothing has happened to Alfred,” she said to herself. “He was
+      well, doing splendidly, the last time he wrote. To be sure, that was a
+      good while ago; but, then, he never wrote often. He’s all right. Pretty
+      soon he’ll come, and how glad I’ll be! I wonder if he has changed.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As Madeline sat waiting in the yellow gloom she heard the faint,
+      intermittent click of the telegraph instrument, the low hum of wires, the
+      occasional stamp of an iron-shod hoof, and a distant vacant laugh rising
+      above the sounds of the dance. These commonplace things were new to her.
+      She became conscious of a slight quickening of her pulse. Madeline had
+      only a limited knowledge of the West. Like all of her class, she had
+      traveled Europe and had neglected America. A few letters from her brother
+      had confused her already vague ideas of plains and mountains, as well as
+      of cowboys and cattle. She had been astounded at the interminable distance
+      she had traveled, and if there had been anything attractive to look at in
+      all that journey she had passed it in the night. And here she sat in a
+      dingy little station, with telegraph wires moaning a lonely song in the
+      wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A faint sound like the rattling of thin chains diverted Madeline’s
+      attention. At first she imagined it was made by the telegraph wires. Then
+      she heard a step. The door swung wide; a tall man entered, and with him
+      came the clinking rattle. She realized then that the sound came from his
+      spurs. The man was a cowboy, and his entrance recalled vividly to her that
+      of Dustin Farnum in the first act of “The Virginian.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Will you please direct me to a hotel?” asked Madeline, rising.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboy removed his sombrero, and the sweep he made with it and the
+      accompanying bow, despite their exaggeration, had a kind of rude grace. He
+      took two long strides toward her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Lady, are you married?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the past Miss Hammond’s sense of humor had often helped her to overlook
+      critical exactions natural to her breeding. She kept silence, and she
+      imagined it was just as well that her veil hid her face at the moment. She
+      had been prepared to find cowboys rather striking, and she had been warned
+      not to laugh at them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This gentleman of the range deliberately reached down and took up her left
+      hand. Before she recovered from her start of amaze he had stripped off her
+      glove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Fine spark, but no wedding-ring,” he drawled. “Lady, I’m glad to see
+      you’re not married.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He released her hand and returned the glove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You see, the only ho-tel in this here town is against boarding married
+      women.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Indeed?” said Madeline, trying to adjust her wits to the situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It sure is,” he went on. “Bad business for ho-tels to have married women.
+      Keeps the boys away. You see, this isn’t Reno.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he laughed rather boyishly, and from that, and the way he slouched on
+      his sombrero, Madeline realized he was half drunk. As she instinctively
+      recoiled she not only gave him a keener glance, but stepped into a
+      position where a better light shone on his face. It was like red bronze,
+      bold, raw, sharp. He laughed again, as if good-naturedly amused with
+      himself, and the laugh scarcely changed the hard set of his features. Like
+      that of all women whose beauty and charm had brought them much before the
+      world, Miss Hammond’s intuition had been developed until she had a
+      delicate and exquisitely sensitive perception of the nature of men and of
+      her effect upon them. This crude cowboy, under the influence of drink, had
+      affronted her; nevertheless, whatever was in his mind, he meant no insult.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I shall be greatly obliged if you will show me to the hotel,” she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Lady, you wait here,” he replied, slowly, as if his thought did not come
+      swiftly. “I’ll go fetch the porter.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She thanked him, and as he went out, closing the door, she sat down in
+      considerable relief. It occurred to her that she should have mentioned her
+      brother’s name. Then she fell to wondering what living with such uncouth
+      cowboys had done to Alfred. He had been wild enough in college, and she
+      doubted that any cowboy could have taught him much. She alone of her
+      family had ever believed in any latent good in Alfred Hammond, and her
+      faith had scarcely survived the two years of silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Waiting there, she again found herself listening to the moan of the wind
+      through the wires. The horse outside began to pound with heavy hoofs, and
+      once he whinnied. Then Madeline heard a rapid pattering, low at first and
+      growing louder, which presently she recognized as the galloping of horses.
+      She went to the window, thinking, hoping her brother had arrived. But as
+      the clatter increased to a roar, shadows sped by—lean horses, flying
+      manes and tails, sombreroed riders, all strange and wild in her sight.
+      Recalling what the conductor had said, she was at some pains to quell her
+      uneasiness. Dust-clouds shrouded the dim lights in the windows. Then out
+      of the gloom two figures appeared, one tall, the other slight. The cowboy
+      was returning with a porter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Heavy footsteps sounded without, and lighter ones dragging along, and then
+      suddenly the door rasped open, jarring the whole room. The cowboy entered,
+      pulling a disheveled figure—that of a priest, a padre, whose mantle
+      had manifestly been disarranged by the rude grasp of his captor. Plain it
+      was that the padre was extremely terrified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline Hammond gazed in bewilderment at the little man, so pale and
+      shaken, and a protest trembled upon her lips; but it was never uttered,
+      for this half-drunken cowboy now appeared to be a cool, grim-smiling
+      devil; and stretching out a long arm, he grasped her and swung her back to
+      the bench.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You stay there!” he ordered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice, though neither brutal nor harsh nor cruel, had the
+      unaccountable effect of making her feel powerless to move. No man had ever
+      before addressed her in such a tone. It was the woman in her that obeyed—not
+      the personality of proud Madeline Hammond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The padre lifted his clasped hands as if supplicating for his life, and
+      began to speak hurriedly in Spanish. Madeline did not understand the
+      language. The cowboy pulled out a huge gun and brandished it in the
+      priest’s face. Then he lowered it, apparently to point it at the priest’s
+      feet. There was a red flash, and then a thundering report that stunned
+      Madeline. The room filled with smoke and the smell of powder. Madeline did
+      not faint or even shut her eyes, but she felt as if she were fast in a
+      cold vise. When she could see distinctly through the smoke she experienced
+      a sensation of immeasurable relief that the cowboy had not shot the padre.
+      But he was still waving the gun, and now appeared to be dragging his
+      victim toward her. What possibly could be the drunken fool’s intention?
+      This must be, this surely was a cowboy trick. She had a vague, swiftly
+      flashing recollection of Alfred’s first letters descriptive of the
+      extravagant fun of cowboys. Then she vividly remembered a moving picture
+      she had seen—cowboys playing a monstrous joke on a lone
+      school-teacher. Madeline no sooner thought of it than she made certain her
+      brother was introducing her to a little wild West amusement. She could
+      scarcely believe it, yet it must be true. Alfred’s old love of teasing her
+      might have extended even to this outrage. Probably he stood just outside
+      the door or window laughing at her embarrassment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Anger checked her panic. She straightened up with what composure this
+      surprise had left her and started for the door. But the cowboy barred her
+      passage—grasped her arms. Then Madeline divined that her brother
+      could not have any knowledge of this indignity. It was no trick. It was
+      something that was happening, that was real, that threatened she knew not
+      what. She tried to wrench free, feeling hot all over at being handled by
+      this drunken brute. Poise, dignity, culture—all the acquired habits
+      of character—fled before the instinct to fight. She was athletic.
+      She fought. She struggled desperately. But he forced her back with hands
+      of iron. She had never known a man could be so strong. And then it was the
+      man’s coolly smiling face, the paralyzing strangeness of his manner, more
+      than his strength, that weakened Madeline until she sank trembling against
+      the bench.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What—do you—mean?” she panted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Dearie, ease up a little on the bridle,” he replied, gaily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline thought she must be dreaming. She could not think clearly. It had
+      all been too swift, too terrible for her to grasp. Yet she not only saw
+      this man, but also felt his powerful presence. And the shaking priest, the
+      haze of blue smoke, the smell of powder—these were not unreal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then close before her eyes burst another blinding red flash, and close at
+      her ears bellowed another report. Unable to stand, Madeline slipped down
+      onto the bench. Her drifting faculties refused clearly to record what
+      transpired during the next few moments; presently, however, as her mind
+      steadied somewhat, she heard, though as in a dream, the voice of the padre
+      hurrying over strange words. It ceased, and then the cowboy’s voice
+      stirred her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Lady, say Si—Si. Say it—quick! Say it—Si!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From sheer suggestion, a force irresistible at this moment when her will
+      was clamped by panic, she spoke the word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “And now, lady—so we can finish this properly—what’s your
+      name?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still obeying mechanically, she told him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stared for a while, as if the name had awakened associations in a mind
+      somewhat befogged. He leaned back unsteadily. Madeline heard the expulsion
+      of his breath, a kind of hard puff, not unusual in drunken men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What name?” he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Madeline Hammond. I am Alfred Hammond’s sister.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He put his hand up and brushed at an imaginary something before his eyes.
+      Then he loomed over her, and that hand, now shaking a little, reached out
+      for her veil. Before he could touch it, however, she swept it back,
+      revealing her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You’re—not—Majesty Hammond?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      How strange—stranger than anything that had ever happened to her
+      before—was it to hear that name on the lips of this cowboy! It was a
+      name by which she was familiarly known, though only those nearest and
+      dearest to her had the privilege of using it. And now it revived her
+      dulled faculties, and by an effort she regained control of herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You are Majesty Hammond,” he replied; and this time he affirmed
+      wonderingly rather than questioned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline rose and faced him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, I am.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He slammed his gun back into its holster.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, I reckon we won’t go on with it, then.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “With what, sir? And why did you force me to say Si to this priest?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon that was a way I took to show him you’d be willing to get
+      married.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh!... You—you!...” Words failed her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This appeared to galvanize the cowboy into action. He grasped the padre
+      and led him toward the door, cursing and threatening, no doubt enjoining
+      secrecy. Then he pushed him across the threshold and stood there breathing
+      hard and wrestling with himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Here—wait—wait a minute, Miss—Miss Hammond,” he said,
+      huskily. “You could fall into worse company than mine—though I
+      reckon you sure think not. I’m pretty drunk, but I’m—all right
+      otherwise. Just wait—a minute.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood quivering and blazing with wrath, and watched this savage fight
+      his drunkenness. He acted like a man who had been suddenly shocked into a
+      rational state of mind, and he was now battling with himself to hold on to
+      it. Madeline saw the dark, damp hair lift from his brows as he held it up
+      to the cool wind. Above him she saw the white stars in the deep-blue sky,
+      and they seemed as unreal to her as any other thing in this strange night.
+      They were cold, brilliant, aloof, distant; and looking at them, she felt
+      her wrath lessen and die and leave her calm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboy turned and began to talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You see—I was pretty drunk,” he labored. “There was a fiesta—and
+      a wedding. I do fool things when I’m drunk. I made a fool bet I’d marry
+      the first girl who came to town.... If you hadn’t worn that veil—the
+      fellows were joshing me—and Ed Linton was getting married—and
+      everybody always wants to gamble.... I must have been pretty drunk.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After the one look at her when she had first put aside her veil he had not
+      raised his eyes to her face. The cool audacity had vanished in what was
+      either excessive emotion or the maudlin condition peculiar to some men
+      when drunk. He could not stand still; perspiration collected in beads upon
+      his forehead; he kept wiping his face with his scarf, and he breathed like
+      a man after violent exertions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You see—I was pretty—” he began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Explanations are not necessary,” she interrupted. “I am very tired—distressed.
+      The hour is late. Have you the slightest idea what it means to be a
+      gentleman?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His bronzed face burned to a flaming crimson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Is my brother here—in town to-night?” Madeline went on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No. He’s at his ranch.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “But I wired him.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Like as not the message is over in his box at the P.O. He’ll be in town
+      to-morrow. He’s shipping cattle for Stillwell.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Meanwhile I must go to a hotel. Will you please—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      If he heard her last words he showed no evidence of it. A noise outside
+      had attracted his attention. Madeline listened. Low voices of men, the
+      softer liquid tones of a woman, drifted in through the open door. They
+      spoke in Spanish, and the voices grew louder. Evidently the speakers were
+      approaching the station. Footsteps crunching on gravel attested to this,
+      and quicker steps, coming with deep tones of men in anger, told of a
+      quarrel. Then the woman’s voice, hurried and broken, rising higher, was
+      eloquent of vain appeal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboy’s demeanor startled Madeline into anticipation of something
+      dreadful. She was not deceived. From outside came the sound of a scuffle—a
+      muffled shot, a groan, the thud of a falling body, a woman’s low cry, and
+      footsteps padding away in rapid retreat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline Hammond leaned weakly back in her seat, cold and sick, and for a
+      moment her ears throbbed to the tramp of the dancers across the way and
+      the rhythm of the cheap music. Then into the open door-place flashed a
+      girl’s tragic face, lighted by dark eyes and framed by dusky hair. The
+      girl reached a slim brown hand round the side of the door and held on as
+      if to support herself. A long black scarf accentuated her gaudy attire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senor—Gene!” she exclaimed; and breathless glad recognition made a
+      sudden break in her terror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bonita!” The cowboy leaped to her. “Girl! Are you hurt?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No, Senor.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took hold of her. “I heard—somebody got shot. Was it Danny?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No, Senor.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Did Danny do the shooting? Tell me, girl.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No, Senor.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m sure glad. I thought Danny was mixed up in that. He had Stillwell’s
+      money for the boys—I was afraid.... Say, Bonita, but you’ll get in
+      trouble. Who was with you? What did you do?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senor Gene—they Don Carlos vaqueros—they quarrel over me. I
+      only dance a leetle, smile a leetle, and they quarrel. I beg they be good—watch
+      out for Sheriff Hawe... and now Sheriff Hawe put me in jail. I so
+      frighten; he try make leetle love to Bonita once, and now he hate me like
+      he hate Senor Gene.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Pat Hawe won’t put you in jail. Take my horse and hit the Peloncillo
+      trail. Bonita, promise to stay away from El Cajon.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Si, Senor.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He led her outside. Madeline heard the horse snort and champ his bit. The
+      cowboy spoke low; only a few words were intelligible—“stirrups...
+      wait... out of town... mountain... trail ... now ride!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A moment’s silence ensued, and was broken by a pounding of hoofs, a
+      pattering of gravel. Then Madeline saw a big, dark horse run into the wide
+      space. She caught a glimpse of wind-swept scarf and hair, a little form
+      low down in the saddle. The horse was outlined in black against the line
+      of dim lights. There was something wild and splendid in his flight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Directly the cowboy appeared again in the doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, I reckon we want to rustle out of here. Been bad goings-on.
+      And there’s a train due.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hurried into the open air, not daring to look back or to either side.
+      Her guide strode swiftly. She had almost to run to keep up with him. Many
+      conflicting emotions confused her. She had a strange sense of this
+      stalking giant beside her, silent except for his jangling spurs. She had a
+      strange feeling of the cool, sweet wind and the white stars. Was it only
+      her disordered fancy, or did these wonderful stars open and shut? She had
+      a queer, disembodied thought that somewhere in ages back, in another life,
+      she had seen these stars. The night seemed dark, yet there was a pale,
+      luminous light—a light from the stars—and she fancied it would
+      always haunt her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly aware that she had been led beyond the line of houses, she spoke:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Where are you taking me?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “To Florence Kingsley,” he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Who is she?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon she’s your brother’s best friend out here.” Madeline kept pace
+      with the cowboy for a few moments longer, and then she stopped. It was as
+      much from necessity to catch her breath as it was from recurring fear. All
+      at once she realized what little use her training had been for such an
+      experience as this. The cowboy, missing her, came back the few intervening
+      steps. Then he waited, still silent, looming beside her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It’s so dark, so lonely,” she faltered. “How do I know... what warrant
+      can you give me that you—that no harm will befall me if I go
+      farther?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “None, Miss Hammond, except that I’ve seen your face.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      II. A Secret Kept
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      Because of that singular reply Madeline found faith to go farther with the
+      cowboy. But at the moment she really did not think about what he had said.
+      Any answer to her would have served if it had been kind. His silence had
+      augmented her nervousness, compelling her to voice her fear. Still, even
+      if he had not replied at all she would have gone on with him. She
+      shuddered at the idea of returning to the station, where she believed
+      there had been murder; she could hardly have forced herself to go back to
+      those dim lights in the street; she did not want to wander around alone in
+      the dark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And as she walked on into the windy darkness, much relieved that he had
+      answered as he had, reflecting that he had yet to prove his words true,
+      she began to grasp the deeper significance of them. There was a revival of
+      pride that made her feel that she ought to scorn to think at all about
+      such a man. But Madeline Hammond discovered that thought was involuntary,
+      that there were feelings in her never dreamed of before this night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Madeline’s guide turned off the walk and rapped at a door of a
+      low-roofed house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hullo—who’s there?” a deep voice answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene Stewart,” said the cowboy. “Call Florence—quick!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thump of footsteps followed, a tap on a door, and voices. Madeline heard a
+      woman exclaim: “Gene! here when there’s a dance in town! Something wrong
+      out on the range.” A light flared up and shone bright through a window. In
+      another moment there came a patter of soft steps, and the door opened to
+      disclose a woman holding a lamp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene! Al’s not—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Al is all right,” interrupted the cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had two sensations then—one of wonder at the note of alarm
+      and love in the woman’s voice, and the other of unutterable relief to be
+      safe with a friend of her brother’s.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It’s Al’s sister—came on to-night’s train,” the cowboy was saying.
+      “I happened to be at the station, and I’ve fetched her up to you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline came forward out of the shadow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Not—not really Majesty Hammond!” exclaimed Florence Kingsley. She
+      nearly dropped the lamp, and she looked and looked, astounded beyond
+      belief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, I am really she,” replied Madeline. “My train was late, and for some
+      reason Alfred did not meet me. Mr.—Mr. Stewart saw fit to bring me
+      to you instead of taking me to a hotel.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, I’m so glad to meet you,” replied Florence, warmly. “Do come in. I’m
+      so surprised, I forget my manners. Why, Al never mentioned your coming.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “He surely could not have received my messages,” said Madeline, as she
+      entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboy, who came in with her satchel, had to stoop to enter the door,
+      and, once in, he seemed to fill the room. Florence set the lamp down upon
+      the table. Madeline saw a young woman with a smiling, friendly face, and a
+      profusion of fair hair hanging down over her dressing-gown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, but Al will be glad!” cried Florence. “Why, you are white as a sheet.
+      You must be tired. What a long wait you had at the station! I heard the
+      train come in hours ago as I was going to bed. That station is lonely at
+      night. If I had known you were coming! Indeed, you are very pale. Are you
+      ill?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No. Only I am very tired. Traveling so far by rail is harder than I
+      imagined. I did have rather a long wait after arriving at the station, but
+      I can’t say that it was lonely.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence Kingsley searched Madeline’s face with keen eyes, and then took a
+      long, significant look at the silent Stewart. With that she deliberately
+      and quietly closed a door leading into another room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, what has happened?” She had lowered her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I do not wish to recall all that has happened,” replied Madeline. “I
+      shall tell Alfred, however, that I would rather have met a hostile Apache
+      than a cowboy.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Please don’t tell Al that!” cried Florence. Then she grasped Stewart and
+      pulled him close to the light. “Gene, you’re drunk!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I was pretty drunk,” he replied, hanging his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, what have you done?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Now, see here, Flo, I only—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I don’t want to know. I’d tell it. Gene, aren’t you ever going to learn
+      decency? Aren’t you ever going to stop drinking? You’ll lose all your
+      friends. Stillwell has stuck to you. Al’s been your best friend. Molly and
+      I have pleaded with you, and now you’ve gone and done—God knows
+      what!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “What do women want to wear veils for?” he growled. “I’d have known her
+      but for that veil.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “And you wouldn’t have insulted her. But you would the next girl who came
+      along. Gene, you are hopeless. Now, you get out of here and don’t ever
+      come back.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Flo!” he entreated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I mean it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon then I’ll come back to-morrow and take my medicine,” he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Don’t you dare!” she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart went out and closed the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, you—you don’t know how this hurts me,” said Florence.
+      “What you must think of us! It’s so unlucky that you should have had this
+      happen right at first. Now, maybe you won’t have the heart to stay. Oh,
+      I’ve known more than one Eastern girl to go home without ever learning
+      what we really are cut here. Miss Hammond, Gene Stewart is a fiend when
+      he’s drunk. All the same I know, whatever he did, he meant no shame to
+      you. Come now, don’t think about it again to-night.” She took up the lamp
+      and led Madeline into a little room. “This is out West,” she went on,
+      smiling, as she indicated the few furnishings; “but you can rest. You’re
+      perfectly safe. Won’t you let me help you undress—can’t I do
+      anything for you?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You are very kind, thank you, but I can manage,” replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, then, good night. The sooner I go the sooner you’ll rest. Just
+      forget what happened and think how fine a surprise you’re to give your
+      brother to-morrow.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that she slipped out and softly shut the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Madeline laid her watch on the bureau she noticed that the time was
+      past two o’clock. It seemed long since she had gotten off the train. When
+      she had turned out the lamp and crept wearily into bed she knew what it
+      was to be utterly spent. She was too tired to move a finger. But her brain
+      whirled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had at first no control over it, and a thousand thronging sensations
+      came and went and recurred with little logical relation. There were the
+      roar of the train; the feeling of being lost; the sound of pounding hoofs;
+      a picture of her brother’s face as she had last seen it five years before;
+      a long, dim line of lights; the jingle of silver spurs; night, wind,
+      darkness, stars. Then the gloomy station, the shadowy blanketed Mexican,
+      the empty room, the dim lights across the square, the tramp of the dancers
+      and vacant laughs and discordant music, the door flung wide and the
+      entrance of the cowboy. She did not recall how he had looked or what he
+      had done. And the next instant she saw him cool, smiling, devilish—saw
+      him in violence; the next his bigness, his apparel, his physical being
+      were vague as outlines in a dream. The white face of the padre flashed
+      along in the train of thought, and it brought the same dull, half-blind,
+      indefinable state of mind subsequent to that last nerve-breaking
+      pistol-shot. That passed, and then clear and vivid rose memories of the
+      rest that had happened—strange voices betraying fury of men, a
+      deadened report, a moan of mortal pain, a woman’s poignant cry. And
+      Madeline saw the girl’s great tragic eyes and the wild flight of the big
+      horse into the blackness, and the dark, stalking figure of the silent
+      cowboy, and the white stars that seemed to look down remorselessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This tide of memory rolled over Madeline again and again, and gradually
+      lost its power and faded. All distress left her, and she felt herself
+      drifting. How black the room was—as black with her eyes open as it
+      was when they were shut! And the silence—it was like a cloak. There
+      was absolutely no sound. She was in another world from that which she
+      knew. She thought of this fair-haired Florence and of Alfred; and,
+      wondering about them, she dropped to sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she awakened the room was bright with sunlight. A cool wind blowing
+      across the bed caused her to put her hands under the blanket. She was
+      lazily and dreamily contemplating the mud walls of this little room when
+      she remembered where she was and how she had come there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How great a shock she had been subjected to was manifest in a sensation of
+      disgust that overwhelmed her. She even shut her eyes to try and blot out
+      the recollection. She felt that she had been contaminated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Madeline Hammond again awoke to the fact she had learned the
+      preceding night—that there were emotions to which she had heretofore
+      been a stranger. She did not try to analyze them, but she exercised her
+      self-control to such good purpose that by the time she had dressed she was
+      outwardly her usual self. She scarcely remembered when she had found it
+      necessary to control her emotions. There had been no trouble, no
+      excitement, no unpleasantness in her life. It had been ordered for her—tranquil,
+      luxurious, brilliant, varied, yet always the same.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was not surprised to find the hour late, and was going to make inquiry
+      about her brother when a voice arrested her. She recognized Miss
+      Kingsley’s voice addressing some one outside, and it had a sharpness she
+      had not noted before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “So you came back, did you? Well, you don’t look very proud of yourself
+      this mawnin’. Gene Stewart, you look like a coyote.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Say, Flo if I am a coyote I’m not going to sneak,” he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What ’d you come for?” she demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I said I was coming round to take my medicine.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Meaning you’ll not run from Al Hammond? Gene, your skull is as thick as
+      an old cow’s. Al will never know anything about what you did to his sister
+      unless you tell him. And if you do that he’ll shoot you. She won’t give
+      you away. She’s a thoroughbred. Why, she was so white last night I thought
+      she’d drop at my feet, but she never blinked an eyelash. I’m a woman, Gene
+      Stewart and if I couldn’t feel like Miss Hammond I know how awful an
+      ordeal she must have had. Why, she’s one of the most beautiful, the most
+      sought after, the most exclusive women in New York City. There’s a crowd
+      of millionaires and lords and dukes after her. How terrible it’d be for a
+      woman like her to be kissed by a drunken cowpuncher! I say it—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Flo, I never insulted her that way,” broke out Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It was worse, then?” she queried, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I made a bet that I’d marry the first girl who came to town. I was on the
+      watch and pretty drunk. When she came—well, I got Padre Marcos and
+      tried to bully her into marrying me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, Lord!” Florence gasped. “It’s worse than I feared.... Gene, Al will
+      kill you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “That’ll be a good thing,” replied the cowboy, dejectedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene Stewart, it certainly would, unless you turn over a new leaf,”
+       retorted Florence. “But don’t be a fool.” And here she became earnest and
+      appealing. “Go away, Gene. Go join the rebels across the border—you’re
+      always threatening that. Anyhow, don’t stay here and ruin any chance of
+      stirring Al up. He’d kill you just the same as you would kill another man
+      for insulting your sister. Don’t make trouble for Al. That’d only make
+      sorrow for her, Gene.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The subtle import was not lost upon Madeline. She was distressed because
+      she could not avoid hearing what was not meant for her ears. She made an
+      effort not to listen, and it was futile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Flo, you can’t see this a man’s way,” he replied, quietly. “I’ll stay and
+      take my medicine.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene, I could sure swear at you or any other pig-head of a cowboy.
+      Listen. My brother-in-law, Jack, heard something of what I said to you
+      last night. He doesn’t like you. I’m afraid he’ll tell Al. For Heaven’s
+      sake, man, go down-town and shut him up and yourself, too.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Madeline heard her come into the house and presently rap on the door
+      and call softly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond. Are you awake?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Awake and dressed, Miss Kingsley. Come in.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh! You’ve rested. You look so—so different. I’m sure glad. Come
+      out now. We’ll have breakfast, and then you may expect to meet your
+      brother any moment.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wait, please. I heard you speaking to Mr. Stewart. It was unavoidable.
+      But I am glad. I must see him. Will you please ask him to come into the
+      parlor a moment?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” replied Florence, quickly; and as she turned at the door she
+      flashed at Madeline a woman’s meaning glance. “Make him keep his mouth
+      shut!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently there were slow, reluctant steps outside the front door, then a
+      pause, and the door opened. Stewart stood bareheaded in the sunlight.
+      Madeline remembered with a kind of shudder the tall form, the embroidered
+      buckskin vest, the red scarf, the bright leather wristbands, the wide
+      silver-buckled belt and chaps. Her glance seemed to run over him swift as
+      lightning. But as she saw his face now she did not recognize it. The man’s
+      presence roused in her a revolt. Yet something in her, the
+      incomprehensible side of her nature, thrilled in the look of this splendid
+      dark-faced barbarian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mr. Stewart, will you please come in?” she asked, after that long pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon not,” he said. The hopelessness of his tone meant that he knew
+      he was not fit to enter a room with her, and did not care or cared too
+      much.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline went to the door. The man’s face was hard, yet it was sad, too.
+      And it touched her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I shall not tell my brother of your—your rudeness to me,” she
+      began. It was impossible for her to keep the chill out of her voice, to
+      speak with other than the pride and aloofness of her class. Nevertheless,
+      despite her loathing, when she had spoken so far it seemed that kindness
+      and pity followed involuntarily. “I choose to overlook what you did
+      because you were not wholly accountable, and because there must be no
+      trouble between Alfred and you. May I rely on you to keep silence and to
+      seal the lips of that priest? And you know there was a man killed or
+      injured there last night. I want to forget that dreadful thing. I don’t
+      want it known that I heard—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “The Greaser didn’t die,” interrupted Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ah! then that’s not so bad, after all. I am glad for the sake of your
+      friend—the little Mexican girl.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A slow scarlet wave overspread his face, and his shame was painful to see.
+      That fixed in Madeline’s mind a conviction that if he was a heathen he was
+      not wholly bad. And it made so much difference that she smiled down at
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You will spare me further distress, will you not, please?” His hoarse
+      reply was incoherent, but she needed only to see his working face to know
+      his remorse and gratitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline went back to her room; and presently Florence came for her, and
+      directly they were sitting at breakfast. Madeline Hammond’s impression of
+      her brother’s friend had to be reconstructed in the morning light. She
+      felt a wholesome, frank, sweet nature. She liked the slow Southern drawl.
+      And she was puzzled to know whether Florence Kingsley was pretty or
+      striking or unusual. She had a youthful glow and flush, the clear tan of
+      outdoors, a face that lacked the soft curves and lines of Eastern women,
+      and her eyes were light gray, like crystal, steady, almost piercing, and
+      her hair was a beautiful bright, waving mass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence’s sister was the elder of the two, a stout woman with a strong
+      face and quiet eyes. It was a simple fare and service they gave to their
+      guest; but they made no apologies for that. Indeed, Madeline felt their
+      simplicity to be restful. She was sated with respect, sick of admiration,
+      tired of adulation; and it was good to see that these Western women
+      treated her as very likely they would have treated any other visitor. They
+      were sweet, kind; and what Madeline had at first thought was a lack of
+      expression or vitality she soon discovered to be the natural reserve of
+      women who did not live superficial lives. Florence was breezy and frank,
+      her sister quaint and not given much to speech. Madeline thought she would
+      like to have these women near her if she were ill or in trouble. And she
+      reproached herself for a fastidiousness, a hypercritical sense of
+      refinement that could not help distinguishing what these women lacked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Can you ride?” Florence was asking. “That’s what a Westerner always asks
+      any one from the East. Can you ride like a man—astride, I mean? Oh,
+      that’s fine. You look strong enough to hold a horse. We have some fine
+      horses out here. I reckon when Al comes we’ll go out to Bill Stillwell’s
+      ranch. We’ll have to go, whether we want to or not, for when Bill learns
+      you are here he’ll just pack us all off. You’ll love old Bill. His ranch
+      is run down, but the range and the rides up in the mountains—they
+      are beautiful. We’ll hunt and climb, and most of all we’ll ride. I love a
+      horse—I love the wind in my face, and a wide stretch with the
+      mountains beckoning. You must have the best horse on the ranges. And that
+      means a scrap between Al and Bill and all the cowboys. We don’t all agree
+      about horses, except in case of Gene Stewart’s iron-gray.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Does Mr. Stewart own the best horse in the country?” asked Madeline.
+      Again she had an inexplicable thrill as she remembered the wild flight of
+      Stewart’s big dark steed and rider.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, and that’s all he does own,” replied Florence. “Gene can’t keep even
+      a quirt. But he sure loves that horse and calls him—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this juncture a sharp knock on the parlor door interrupted the
+      conversation. Florence’s sister went to open it. She returned presently
+      and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It’s Gene. He’s been dawdlin’ out there on the front porch, and he
+      knocked to let us know Miss Hammond’s brother is comin’.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence hurried into the parlor, followed by Madeline. The door stood
+      open, and disclosed Stewart sitting on the porch steps. From down the road
+      came a clatter of hoofs. Madeline looked out over Florence’s shoulder and
+      saw a cloud of dust approaching, and in it she distinguished outlines of
+      horses and riders. A warmth spread over her, a little tingle of gladness,
+      and the feeling recalled her girlish love for her brother. What would he
+      be like after long years?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene, has Jack kept his mouth shut?” queried Florence; and again Madeline
+      was aware of a sharp ring in the girl’s voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No,” replied Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene! You won’t let it come to a fight? Al can be managed. But Jack hates
+      you and he’ll have his friends with him.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “There won’t be any fight.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Use your brains now,” added Florence; and then she turned to push
+      Madeline gently back into the parlor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s glow of warmth changed to a blank dismay. Was she to see her
+      brother act with the violence she now associated with cowboys? The clatter
+      of hoofs stopped before the door. Looking out, Madeline saw a bunch of
+      dusty, wiry horses pawing the gravel and tossing lean heads. Her swift
+      glance ran over the lithe horsemen, trying to pick out the one who was her
+      brother. But she could not. Her glance, however, caught the same rough
+      dress and hard aspect that characterized the cowboy Stewart. Then one
+      rider threw his bridle, leaped from the saddle, and came bounding up the
+      porch steps. Florence met him at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hello, Flo. Where is she?” he called, eagerly. With that he looked over
+      her shoulder to espy Madeline. He actually jumped at her. She hardly knew
+      the tall form and the bronzed face, but the warm flash of blue eyes was
+      familiar. As for him, he had no doubt of his sister, it appeared, for with
+      broken welcome he threw his arms around her, then held her off and looked
+      searchingly at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, sister,” he began, when Florence turned hurriedly from the door and
+      interrupted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Al, I think you’d better stop the wrangling out there.” He stared at her,
+      appeared suddenly to hear the loud voices from the street, and then,
+      releasing Madeline, he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “By George! I forgot, Flo. There is a little business to see to. Keep my
+      sister in here, please, and don’t be fussed up now.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went out on the porch and called to his men:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shut off your wind, Jack! And you, too, Blaze! I didn’t want you fellows
+      to come here. But as you would come, you’ve got to shut up. This is my
+      business.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whereupon he turned to Stewart, who was sitting on the fence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hello, Stewart!” he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a greeting; but there was that in the voice which alarmed Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart leisurely got up and leisurely advanced to the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hello, Hammond!” he drawled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Drunk again last night?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, if you want to know, and if it’s any of your mix, yes, I was-pretty
+      drunk,” replied Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a kind of cool speech that showed the cowboy in control of himself
+      and master of the situation—not an easy speech to follow up with
+      undue inquisitiveness. There was a short silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Damn it, Stewart,” said the speaker, presently, “here’s the situation:
+      It’s all over town that you met my sister last night at the station and—and
+      insulted her. Jack’s got it in for you, so have these other boys. But it’s
+      my affair. Understand, I didn’t fetch them here. They can see you square
+      yourself, or else—Gene, you’ve been on the wrong trail for some
+      time, drinking and all that. You’re going to the bad. But Bill thinks, and
+      I think, you’re still a man. We never knew you to lie. Now what have you
+      to say for yourself?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nobody is insinuating that I am a liar?” drawled Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, I’m glad to hear that. You see, Al, I was pretty drunk last night,
+      but not drunk enough to forget the least thing I did. I told Pat Hawe so
+      this morning when he was curious. And that’s polite for me to be to Pat.
+      Well, I found Miss Hammond waiting alone at the station. She wore a veil,
+      but I knew she was a lady, of course. I imagine, now that I think of it,
+      that Miss Hammond found my gallantry rather startling, and—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this point Madeline, answering to unconsidered impulse, eluded Florence
+      and walked out upon the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sombreros flashed down and the lean horses jumped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gentlemen,” said Madeline, rather breathlessly; and it did not add to her
+      calmness to feel a hot flush in her cheeks, “I am very new to Western
+      ways, but I think you are laboring under a mistake, which, in justice to
+      Mr. Stewart, I want to correct. Indeed, he was rather—rather abrupt
+      and strange when he came up to me last night; but as I understand him now,
+      I can attribute that to his gallantry. He was somewhat wild and sudden and—sentimental
+      in his demand to protect me—and it was not clear whether he meant
+      his protection for last night or forever; but I am happy to say be offered
+      me no word that was not honorable. And he saw me safely here to Miss
+      Kingsley’s home.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      III. Sister and Brother
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      Then Madeline returned to the little parlor with the brother whom she had
+      hardly recognized.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty!” he exclaimed. “To think of your being here!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The warmth stole back along her veins. She remembered how that pet name
+      had sounded from the lips of this brother who had given it to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Alfred!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then his words of gladness at sight of her, his chagrin at not being at
+      the train to welcome her, were not so memorable of him as the way he
+      clasped her, for he had held her that way the day he left home, and she
+      had not forgotten. But now he was so much taller and bigger, so dusty and
+      strange and different and forceful, that she could scarcely think him the
+      same man. She even had a humorous thought that here was another cowboy
+      bullying her, and this time it was her brother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Dear old girl,” he said, more calmly, as he let her go, “you haven’t
+      changed at all, except to grow lovelier. Only you’re a woman now, and
+      you’ve fulfilled the name I gave you. God! how sight of you brings back
+      home! It seems a hundred years since I left. I missed you more than all
+      the rest.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline seemed to feel with his every word that she was remembering him.
+      She was so amazed at the change in him that she could not believe her
+      eyes. She saw a bronzed, strong-jawed, eagle-eyed man, stalwart, superb of
+      height, and, like the cowboys, belted, booted, spurred. And there was
+      something hard as iron in his face that quivered with his words. It seemed
+      that only in those moments when the hard lines broke and softened could
+      she see resemblance to the face she remembered. It was his manner, the
+      tone of his voice, and the tricks of speech that proved to her he was
+      really Alfred. She had bidden good-by to a disgraced, disinherited,
+      dissolute boy. Well she remembered the handsome pale face with its
+      weakness and shadows and careless smile, with the ever-present cigarette
+      hanging between the lips. The years had passed, and now she saw him a man—the
+      West had made him a man. And Madeline Hammond felt a strong, passionate
+      gladness and gratefulness, and a direct check to her suddenly inspired
+      hatred of the West.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty, it was good of you to come. I’m all broken up. How did you ever
+      do it? But never mind that now. Tell me about that brother of mine.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Madeline told him, and then about their sister Helen. Question after
+      question he fired at her; and she told him of her mother; of Aunt Grace,
+      who had died a year ago; of his old friends, married, scattered, vanished.
+      But she did not tell him of his father, for he did not ask.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Quite suddenly the rapid-fire questioning ceased; he choked, was silent a
+      moment, and then burst into tears. It seemed to her that a long, stored-up
+      bitterness was flooding away. It hurt her to see him—hurt her more
+      to hear him. And in the succeeding few moments she grew closer to him than
+      she had ever been in the past. Had her father and mother done right by
+      him? Her pulse stirred with unwonted quickness. She did not speak, but she
+      kissed him, which, for her, was an indication of unusual feeling. And when
+      he recovered command over his emotions he made no reference to his
+      breakdown, nor did she. But that scene struck deep into Madeline Hammond’s
+      heart. Through it she saw what he had lost and gained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Alfred, why did you not answer my last letters?” asked Madeline. “I had
+      not heard from you for two years.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “So long? How time flies! Well, things went bad with me about the last
+      time I heard from you. I always intended to write some day, but I never
+      did.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Things went wrong? Tell me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty, you mustn’t worry yourself with my troubles. I want you to enjoy
+      your stay and not be bothered with my difficulties.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Please tell me. I suspected something had gone wrong. That is partly why
+      I decided to come out.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “All right; if you must know,” he began; and it seemed to Madeline that
+      there was a gladness in his decision to unburden himself. “You remember
+      all about my little ranch, and that for a while I did well raising stock?
+      I wrote you all that. Majesty, a man makes enemies anywhere. Perhaps an
+      Eastern man in the West can make, if not so many, certainly more bitter
+      ones. At any rate, I made several. There was a cattleman, Ward by name—he’s
+      gone now—and he and I had trouble over cattle. That gave me a
+      back-set. Pat Hawe, the sheriff here, has been instrumental in hurting my
+      business. He’s not so much of a rancher, but he has influence at Santa Fe
+      and El Paso and Douglas. I made an enemy of him. I never did anything to
+      him. He hates Gene Stewart, and upon one occasion I spoiled a little plot
+      of his to get Gene in his clutches. The real reason for his animosity
+      toward me is that he loves Florence, and Florence is going to marry me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Alfred!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “What’s the matter, Majesty? Didn’t Florence impress you favorably?” he
+      asked, with a keen glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why—yes, indeed. I like her. But I did not think of her in relation
+      to you—that way. I am greatly surprised. Alfred, is she well born?
+      What connections?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Florence is just a girl of ordinary people. She was born in Kentucky, was
+      brought up in Texas. My aristocratic and wealthy family would scorn—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Alfred, you are still a Hammond,” said Madeline, with uplifted head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred laughed. “We won’t quarrel, Majesty. I remember you, and in spite
+      of your pride you’ve got a heart. If you stay here a month you’ll love
+      Florence Kingsley. I want you to know she’s had a great deal to do with
+      straightening me up.... Well, to go on with my story. There’s Don Carlos,
+      a Mexican rancher, and he’s my worst enemy. For that matter, he’s as bad
+      an enemy of Bill Stillwell and other ranchers. Stillwell, by the way, is
+      my friend and one of the finest men on earth. I got in debt to Don Carlos
+      before I knew he was so mean. In the first place I lost money at faro—I
+      gambled some when I came West—and then I made unwise cattle deals.
+      Don Carlos is a wily Greaser, he knows the ranges, he has the water, and
+      he is dishonest. So he outfigured me. And now I am practically ruined. He
+      has not gotten possession of my ranch, but that’s only a matter of time,
+      pending lawsuits at Santa Fe. At present I have a few hundred cattle
+      running on Stillwell’s range, and I am his foreman.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Foreman?” queried Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am simply boss of Stillwell’s cowboys, and right glad of my job.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was conscious of an inward burning. It required an effort for her
+      to retain her outward tranquillity. Annoying consciousness she had also of
+      the returning sense of new disturbing emotions. She began to see just how
+      walled in from unusual thought-provoking incident and sensation had been
+      her exclusive life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Cannot your property be reclaimed?” she asked. “How much do you owe?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ten thousand dollars would clear me and give me another start. But,
+      Majesty, in this country that’s a good deal of money, and I haven’t been
+      able to raise it. Stillwell’s in worse shape than I am.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline went over to Alfred and put her hands on his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “We must not be in debt.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stared at her as if her words had recalled something long forgotten.
+      Then he smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “How imperious you are! I’d forgotten just who my beautiful sister really
+      is. Majesty, you’re not going to ask me to take money from you?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, I’ll not do it. I never did, even when I was in college, and then
+      there wasn’t much beyond me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Listen, Alfred,” she went on, earnestly, “this is entirely different. I
+      had only an allowance then. You had no way to know that since I last wrote
+      you I had come into my inheritance from Aunt Grace. It was—well,
+      that doesn’t matter. Only, I haven’t been able to spend half the income.
+      It’s mine. It’s not father’s money. You will make me very happy if you’ll
+      consent. Alfred, I’m so—so amazed at the change in you. I’m so
+      happy. You must never take a backward step from now on. What is ten
+      thousand dollars to me? Sometimes I spend that in a month. I throw money
+      away. If you let me help you it will be doing me good as well as you.
+      Please, Alfred.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He kissed her, evidently surprised at her earnestness. And indeed Madeline
+      was surprised herself. Once started, her speech had flowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You always were the best of fellows, Majesty. And if you really care—if
+      you really want to help me I’ll be only too glad to accept. It will be
+      fine. Florence will go wild. And that Greaser won’t harass me any more.
+      Majesty, pretty soon some titled fellow will be spending your money; I may
+      as well take a little before he gets it all,” he finished, jokingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What do you know about me?” she asked, lightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “More than you think. Even if we are lost out here in the woolly West we
+      get news. Everybody knows about Anglesbury. And that Dago duke who chased
+      you all over Europe, that Lord Castleton has the running now and seems
+      about to win. How about it, Majesty?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline detected a hint that suggested scorn in his gay speech. And deep
+      in his searching glance she saw a flame. She became thoughtful. She had
+      forgotten Castleton, New York, society.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Alfred,” she began, seriously, “I don’t believe any titled gentleman will
+      ever spend my money, as you elegantly express it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I don’t care for that. It’s you!” he cried, passionately, and he grasped
+      her with a violence that startled her. He was white; his eyes were now
+      like fire. “You are so splendid—so wonderful. People called you the
+      American Beauty, but you’re more than that. You’re the American Girl!
+      Majesty, marry no man unless you love him, and love an American. Stay away
+      from Europe long enough to learn to know the men—the real men of
+      your own country.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Alfred, I’m afraid there are not always real men and real love for
+      American girls in international marriages. But Helen knows this. It’ll be
+      her choice. She’ll be miserable if she marries Anglesbury.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It’ll serve her just right,” declared her brother. “Helen was always
+      crazy for glitter, adulation, fame. I’ll gamble she never saw more of
+      Anglesbury than the gold and ribbons on his breast.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am sorry. Anglesbury is a gentleman; but it is the money he wanted, I
+      think. Alfred, tell me how you came to know about me, ’way out here? You
+      may be assured I was astonished to find that Miss Kingsley knew me as
+      Majesty Hammond.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I imagine it was a surprise,” he replied, with a laugh, “I told Florence
+      about you—gave her a picture of you. And, of course, being a woman,
+      she showed the picture and talked. She’s in love with you. Then, my dear
+      sister, we do get New York papers out here occasionally, and we can see
+      and read. You may not be aware that you and your society friends are
+      objects of intense interest in the U. S. in general, and the West in
+      particular. The papers are full of you, and perhaps a lot of things you
+      never did.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “That Mr. Stewart knew, too. He said, ‘You’re not Majesty Hammond?’”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Never mind his impudence!” exclaimed Alfred; and then again he laughed.
+      “Gene is all right, only you’ve got to know him. I’ll tell you what he
+      did. He got hold of one of those newspaper pictures of you—the one
+      in the Times; he took it away from here, and in spite of Florence he
+      wouldn’t fetch it back. It was a picture of you in riding-habit with your
+      blue-ribbon horse, White Stockings—remember? It was taken at
+      Newport. Well, Stewart tacked the picture up in his bunk-house and named
+      his beautiful horse Majesty. All the cowboys knew it. They would see the
+      picture and tease him unmercifully. But he didn’t care. One day I happened
+      to drop in on him and found him just recovering from a carouse. I saw the
+      picture, too, and I said to him, ‘Gene, if my sister knew you were a
+      drunkard she’d not be proud of having her picture stuck up in your room.’
+      Majesty, he did not touch a drop for a month, and when he did drink again
+      he took the picture down, and he has never put it back.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline smiled at her brother’s amusement, but she did not reply. She
+      simply could not adjust herself to these queer free Western’ ways. Her
+      brother had eloquently pleaded for her to keep herself above a sordid and
+      brilliant marriage, yet he not only allowed a cowboy to keep her picture
+      in his room, but actually spoke of her and used her name in a temperance
+      lecture. Madeline just escaped feeling disgust. She was saved from this,
+      however, by nothing less than her brother’s naive gladness that through
+      subtle suggestion Stewart had been persuaded to be good for a month.
+      Something made up of Stewart’s effrontery to her; of Florence Kingsley
+      meeting her, frankly as it were, as an equal; of the elder sister’s slow,
+      quiet, easy acceptance of this visitor who had been honored at the courts
+      of royalty; of that faint hint of scorn in Alfred’s voice, and his amused
+      statement in regard to her picture and the name Majesty—something
+      made up of all these stung Madeline Hammond’s pride, alienated her for an
+      instant, and then stimulated her intelligence, excited her interest, and
+      made her resolve to learn a little about this incomprehensible West.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty, I must run down to the siding,” he said, consulting his watch.
+      “We’re loading a shipment of cattle. I’ll be back by supper-time and bring
+      Stillwell with me. You’ll like him. Give me the check for your trunk.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went into the little bedroom and, taking up her bag, she got out a
+      number of checks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Six! Six trunks!” he exclaimed. “Well, I’m very glad you intend to stay
+      awhile. Say, Majesty, it will take me as long to realize who you really
+      are as it’ll take to break you of being a tenderfoot. I hope you packed a
+      riding-suit. If not you’ll have to wear trousers! You’ll have to do that,
+      anyway, when we go up in the mountains.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You sure will, as Florence says.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “We shall see about that. I don’t know what’s in the trunks. I never pack
+      anything. My dear brother, what do I have maids for?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “How did it come that you didn’t travel with a maid?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I wanted to be alone. But don’t you worry. I shall be able to look after
+      myself. I dare say it will be good for me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went to the gate with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What a shaggy, dusty horse! He’s wild, too. Do you let him stand that way
+      without being haltered? I should think he would run off.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Tenderfoot! You’ll be great fun, Majesty, especially for the cowboys.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, will I?” she asked, constrainedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, and in three days they will be fighting one another over you. That’s
+      going to worry me. Cowboys fall in love with a plain woman, an ugly woman,
+      any woman, so long as she’s young. And you! Good Lord! They’ll go out of
+      their heads.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You are pleased to be facetious, Alfred. I think I have had quite enough
+      of cowboys, and I haven’t been here twenty-four hours.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Don’t think too much of first impressions. That was my mistake when I
+      arrived here. Good-by. I’ll go now. Better rest awhile. You look tired.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The horse started as Alfred put his foot in the stirrup and was running
+      when the rider slipped his leg over the saddle. Madeline watched him in
+      admiration. He seemed to be loosely fitted to the saddle, moving with the
+      horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I suppose that’s a cowboy’s style. It pleases me,” she said. “How
+      different from the seat of Eastern riders!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Madeline sat upon the porch and fell to interested observation of her
+      surrounding. Near at hand it was decidedly not prepossessing. The street
+      was deep in dust, and the cool wind whipped up little puffs. The houses
+      along this street were all low, square, flat-roofed structures made of
+      some kind of red cement. It occurred to her suddenly that this
+      building-material must be the adobe she had read about. There was no
+      person in sight. The long street appeared to have no end, though the line
+      of houses did not extend far. Once she heard a horse trotting at some
+      distance, and several times the ringing of a locomotive bell. Where were
+      the mountains, wondered Madeline. Soon low over the house-roofs she saw a
+      dim, dark-blue, rugged outline. It seemed to charm her eyes and fix her
+      gaze. She knew the Adirondacks, she had seen the Alps from the summit of
+      Mont Blanc, and had stood under the great black, white-tipped shadow of
+      the Himalayas. But they had not drawn her as these remote Rockies. This
+      dim horizon line boldly cutting the blue sky fascinated her. Florence
+      Kingsley’s expression “beckoning mountains” returned to Madeline. She
+      could not see or feel so much as that. Her impression was rather that
+      these mountains were aloof, unattainable, that if approached they would
+      recede or vanish like the desert mirage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline went to her room, intending to rest awhile, and she fell asleep.
+      She was aroused by Florence’s knock and call.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, your brother has come back with Stillwell.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why, how I have slept!” exclaimed Madeline. “It’s nearly six o’clock.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m sure glad. You were tired. And the air here makes strangers sleepy.
+      Come, we want you to meet old Bill. He calls himself the last of the
+      cattlemen. He has lived in Texas and here all his life.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline accompanied Florence to the porch. Her brother, who was sitting
+      near the door, jumped up and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hello, Majesty!” And as he put his arm around her he turned toward a
+      massive man whose broad, craggy face began to ripple and wrinkle. “I want
+      to introduce my friend Stillwell to you. Bill, this is my sister, the
+      sister I’ve so often told you about—Majesty.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, wal, Al, this’s the proudest meetin’ of my life,” replied Stillwell,
+      in a booming voice. He extended a huge hand. “Miss—Miss Majesty,
+      sight of you is as welcome as the rain an’ the flowers to an old desert
+      cattleman.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline greeted him, and it was all she could do to repress a cry at the
+      way he crunched her hand in a grasp of iron. He was old, white-haired,
+      weather-beaten, with long furrows down his checks and with gray eyes
+      almost hidden in wrinkles. If he was smiling she fancied it a most
+      extraordinary smile. The next instant she realized that it had been a
+      smile, for his face appeared to stop rippling, the light died, and
+      suddenly it was like rudely chiseled stone. The quality of hardness she
+      had seen in Stewart was immeasurably intensified in this old man’s face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, it’s plumb humiliatin’ to all of us thet we wasn’t on hand
+      to meet you,” Stillwell said. “Me an’ Al stepped into the P. O. an’ said a
+      few mild an’ cheerful things. Them messages ought to hev been sent out to
+      the ranch. I’m sure afraid it was a bit unpleasant fer you last night at
+      the station.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I was rather anxious at first and perhaps frightened,” replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I’m some glad to tell you thet there’s no man in these parts except
+      your brother thet I’d as lief hev met you as Gene Stewart.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Indeed?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, an’ thet’s takin’ into consideration Gene’s weakness, too. I’m allus
+      fond of sayin’ of myself thet I’m the last of the old cattlemen. Wal,
+      Stewart’s not a native Westerner, but he’s my pick of the last of the
+      cowboys. Sure, he’s young, but he’s the last of the old style—the
+      picturesque—an’ chivalrous, too, I make bold to say, Miss Majesty,
+      as well as the old hard-ridin’ kind. Folks are down on Stewart. An’ I’m
+      only sayin’ a good word for him because he is down, an’ mebbe last night
+      he might hev scared you, you bein’ fresh from the East.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline liked the old fellow for his loyalty to the cowboy he evidently
+      cared for; but as there did not seem anything for her to say, she remained
+      silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, the day of the cattleman is about over. An’ the day of the
+      cowboy, such as Gene Stewart, is over. There’s no place for Gene. If these
+      weren’t modern days he’d come near bein’ a gun-man, same as we had in
+      Texas, when I ranched there in the ‘seventies. But he can’t fit nowhere
+      now; he can’t hold a job, an’ he’s goin’ down.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am sorry to hear it,” murmured Madeline. “But, Mr. Stillwell, aren’t
+      these modern days out here just a little wild—yet? The conductor on
+      my train told me of rebels, bandits, raiders. Then I have had other
+      impressions of—well, that were wild enough for me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, it’s some more pleasant an’ excitin’ these days than for many
+      years,” replied Stillwell. “The boys hev took to packin’ guns again. But
+      thet’s owin’ to the revolution in Mexico. There’s goin’ to be trouble
+      along the border. I reckon people in the East don’t know there is a
+      revolution. Wal, Madero will oust Diaz, an’ then some other rebel will
+      oust Madero. It means trouble on the border an’ across the border, too. I
+      wouldn’t wonder if Uncle Sam hed to get a hand in the game. There’s
+      already been holdups on the railroads an’ raids along the Rio Grande
+      Valley. An’ these little towns are full of Greasers, all disturbed by the
+      fightin’ down in Mexico. We’ve been hevin’ shootin’-scrapes an’
+      knifin’-scrapes, an’ some cattle-raidin’. I hev been losin’ a few cattle
+      right along. Reminds me of old times; an’ pretty soon if it doesn’t stop,
+      I’ll take the old-time way to stop it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, indeed, Majesty,” put in Alfred, “you have hit upon an interesting
+      time to visit us.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, thet sure ’pears to be so,” rejoined Stillwell. “Stewart got in
+      trouble down heah to-day, an’ I’m more than sorry to hev to tell you thet
+      your name figgered in it. But I couldn’t blame him, fer I sure would hev
+      done the same myself.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “That so?” queried Alfred, laughing. “Well, tell us about it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline simply gazed at her brother, and, though he seemed amused at her
+      consternation, there was mortification in his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It required no great perspicuity, Madeline thought, to see that Stillwell
+      loved to talk, and the way he squared himself and spread his huge hands
+      over his knees suggested that he meant to do this opportunity justice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, I reckon, bein’ as you’re in the West now, thet you must
+      take things as they come, an’ mind each thing a little less than the one
+      before. If we old fellers hedn’t been thet way we’d never hev lasted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Last night wasn’t particular bad, ratin’ with some other nights lately.
+      There wasn’t much doin’. But, I had a hard knock. Yesterday when we
+      started in with a bunch of cattle I sent one of my cowboys, Danny Mains,
+      along ahead, carryin’ money I hed to pay off hands an’ my bills, an’ I
+      wanted thet money to get in town before dark. Wal, Danny was held up. I
+      don’t distrust the lad. There’s been strange Greasers in town lately, an’
+      mebbe they knew about the money comin’.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, when I arrived with the cattle I was some put to it to make ends
+      meet. An’ to-day I wasn’t in no angelic humor. When I hed my business all
+      done I went around pokin’ my nose beak an’ there, tryin’ to get scent of
+      thet money. An’ I happened in at a hall we hev thet does duty fer’ jail
+      an’ hospital an’ election-post an’ what not. Wal, just then it was doin’
+      duty as a hospital. Last night was fiesta night—these Greasers hev a
+      fiesta every week or so—an’ one Greaser who hed been bad hurt was
+      layin’ in the hall, where he hed been fetched from the station. Somebody
+      hed sent off to Douglas fer a doctor, but be hedn’t come yet. I’ve hed
+      some experience with gunshot wounds, an’ I looked this feller over. He
+      wasn’t shot up much, but I thought there was danger of blood-poison-in’.
+      Anyway, I did all I could.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “The hall was full of cowboys, ranchers, Greasers, miners, an’ town folks,
+      along with some strangers. I was about to get started up this way when Pat
+      Hawe come in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Pat he’s the sheriff. I reckon, Miss Majesty, thet sheriffs are new to
+      you, an’ fer sake of the West I’ll explain to you thet we don’t hev many
+      of the real thing any more. Garrett, who killed Billy the Kid an’ was
+      killed himself near a year or so ago—he was the kind of sheriff thet
+      helps to make a self-respectin’ country. But this Pat Hawe—wal, I
+      reckon there’s no good in me sayin’ what I think of him. He come into the
+      hall, an’ he was roarin’ about things. He was goin’ to arrest Danny Mains
+      on sight. Wal, I jest polite-like told Pat thet the money was mine an’ he
+      needn’t get riled about it. An’ if I wanted to trail the thief I reckon I
+      could do it as well as anybody. Pat howled thet law was law, an’ he was
+      goin’ to lay down the law. Sure it ‘peared to me thet Pat was daid set to
+      arrest the first man he could find excuse to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then he cooled down a bit an’ was askin’ questions about the wounded
+      Greaser when Gene Stewart come in. Whenever Pat an’ Gene come together it
+      reminds me of the early days back in the ‘seventies. Jest naturally
+      everybody shut up. Fer Pat hates Gene, an’ I reckon Gene ain’t very sweet
+      on Pat. They’re jest natural foes in the first place, an’ then the course
+      of events here in El Cajon has been aggravatin’.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘Hello, Stewart! You’re the feller I’m lookin’ fer,’ said Pat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart eyed him an’ said, mighty cool an’ sarcastic, ‘Hawe, you look a
+      good deal fer me when I’m hittin’ up the dust the other way.’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Pat went red at thet, but he held in. ‘Say, Stewart, you-all think a lot
+      of thet roan horse of yourn, with the aristocratic name?’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘I reckon I do,’ replied Gene, shortly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘Wal, where is he?’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘Thet’s none of your business, Hawe.’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘Oho! it ain’t, hey? Wal, I guess I can make it my business. Stewart,
+      there was some queer goings-on last night thet you know somethin’ about.
+      Danny Mains robbed—Stillwell’s money gone—your roan horse gone—thet
+      little hussy Bonita gone—an’ this Greaser near gone, too. Now,
+      seein’ thet you was up late an’ prowlin’ round the station where this
+      Greaser was found, it ain’t onreasonable to think you might know how he
+      got plugged—is it?’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart laughed kind of cold, an’ he rolled a cigarette, all the time
+      eyin’ Pat, an’ then he said if he’d plugged the Greaser it ’d never hev
+      been sich a bunglin’ job.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘I can arrest you on suspicion, Stewart, but before I go thet far I want
+      some evidence. I want to round up Danny Mains an’ thet little Greaser
+      girl. I want to find out what’s become of your hoss. You’ve never lent him
+      since you hed him, an’ there ain’t enough raiders across the border to
+      steal him from you. It’s got a queer look—thet hoss bein’ gone.’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘You sure are a swell detective, Hawe, an’ I wish you a heap of luck,’
+      replied Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thet ‘peared to nettle Pat beyond bounds, an’ he stamped around an’
+      swore. Then he had an idea. It jest stuck out all over him, an’ he shook
+      his finger in Stewart’s face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘You was drunk last night?’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart never batted an eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘You met some woman on Number Eight, didn’t you?’ shouted Hawe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘I met a lady,’ replied Stewart, quiet an’ menacin’ like.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘You met Al Hammond’s sister, an’ you took her up to Kingsley’s. An’
+      cinch this, my cowboy cavalier, I’m goin’ up there an’ ask this grand dame
+      some questions, an’ if she’s as close-mouthed as you are I’ll arrest her!’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene Stewart turned white. I fer one expected to see him jump like
+      lightnin’, as he does when he’s riled sudden. But he was calm an’ he was
+      thinkin’ hard. Presently he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘Pat, thet’s a fool idee, an’ if you do the trick it’ll hurt you all the
+      rest of your life. There’s absolutely no reason to frighten Miss Hammond.
+      An’ tryin’ to arrest her would be such a damned outrage as won’t be stood
+      fer in El Cajon. If you’re sore on me send me to jail. I’ll go. If you
+      want to hurt Al Hammond, go an’ do it some man kind of way. Don’t take
+      your spite out on us by insultin’ a lady who has come hyar to hev a little
+      visit. We’re bad enough without bein’ low-down as Greasers.’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It was a long talk for Gene, an’ I was as surprised as the rest of the
+      fellers. Think of Gene Stewart talkin’ soft an’ sweet to thet red-eyed
+      coyote of a sheriff! An’ Pat, he looked so devilishly gleeful thet if
+      somethin’ about Gene hedn’t held me tight I’d hev got in the game myself.
+      It was plain to me an’ others who spoke of it afterwards thet Pat Hawe hed
+      forgotten the law an’ the officer in the man an’ his hate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘I’m a-goin’, an’ I’m a-goin’ right now!’ he shouted. “An’ after thet any
+      one could hev heerd a clock tick a mile off. Stewart seemed kind of
+      chokin’, an’ he seemed to hev been bewildered by the idee of Hawe’s
+      confrontin’ you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “An’ finally he burst out: ‘But, man, think who it is! It’s Miss Hammond!
+      If you seen her, even if you was locoed or drunk, you—you couldn’t
+      do it.’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘Couldn’t I? Wal, I’ll show you damn quick. What do I care who she is?
+      Them swell Eastern women—I’ve heerd of them. They’re not so much.
+      This Hammond woman—’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Suddenly Hawe shut up, an’ with his red mug turnin’ green he went for his
+      gun.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell paused in his narrative to get breath, and he wiped his moist
+      brow. And now his face began to lose its cragginess. It changed, it
+      softened, it rippled and wrinkled, and all that strange mobility focused
+      and shone in a wonderful smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “An’ then, Miss Majesty, then there was somethin’ happened. Stewart took
+      Pat’s gun away from him and throwed it on the floor. An’ what followed was
+      beautiful. Sure it was the beautifulest sight I ever seen. Only it was
+      over so soon! A little while after, when the doctor came, he hed another
+      patient besides the wounded Greaser, an’ he said thet this new one would
+      require about four months to be up an’ around cheerful-like again. An’
+      Gene Stewart hed hit the trail for the border.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      IV. A Ride From Sunrise To Sunset
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      Next morning, when Madeline was aroused by her brother, it was not yet
+      daybreak; the air chilled her, and in the gray gloom she had to feel
+      around for matches and lamp. Her usual languid manner vanished at a touch
+      of the cold water. Presently, when Alfred knocked on her door and said he
+      was leaving a pitcher of hot water outside, she replied, with chattering
+      teeth, “Th-thank y-you, b-but I d-don’t ne-need any now.” She found it
+      necessary, however, to warm her numb fingers before she could fasten hooks
+      and buttons. And when she was dressed she marked in the dim mirror that
+      there were tinges of red in her cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, if I haven’t some color!” she exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Breakfast waited for her in the dining-room. The sisters ate with her.
+      Madeline quickly caught the feeling of brisk action that seemed to be in
+      the air. From the back of the house sounded the tramp of boots and voices
+      of men, and from outside came a dull thump of hoofs, the rattle of
+      harness, and creak of wheels. Then Alfred came stamping in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty, here’s where you get the real thing,” he announced, merrily.
+      “We’re rushing you off, I’m sorry to say; but we must hustle back to the
+      ranch. The fall round-up begins to-morrow. You will ride in the buck-board
+      with Florence and Stillwell. I’ll ride on ahead with the boys and fix up a
+      little for you at the ranch. Your baggage will follow, but won’t get there
+      till to-morrow sometime. It’s a long ride out—nearly fifty miles by
+      wagon-road. Flo, don’t forget a couple of robes. Wrap her up well. And
+      hustle getting ready. We’re waiting.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A little later, when Madeline went out with Florence, the gray gloom was
+      lightening. Horses were champing bits and pounding gravel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mawnin’, Miss Majesty,” said Stillwell, gruffly, from the front seat of a
+      high vehicle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred bundled her up into the back seat, and Florence after her, and
+      wrapped them with robes. Then he mounted his horse and started off.
+      “Gid-eb!” growled Stillwell, and with a crack of his whip the team jumped
+      into a trot. Florence whispered into Madeline’s ear:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill’s grouchy early in the mawnin’. He’ll thaw out soon as it gets
+      warm.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was still so gray that Madeline could not distinguish objects at any
+      considerable distance, and she left El Cajon without knowing what the town
+      really looked like. She did know that she was glad to get out of it, and
+      found an easier task of dispelling persistent haunting memory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Here come the cowboys,” said Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A line of horsemen appeared coming from the right and fell in behind
+      Alfred, and gradually they drew ahead, to disappear from sight. While
+      Madeline watched them the gray gloom lightened into dawn. All about her
+      was bare and dark; the horizon seemed close; not a hill nor a tree broke
+      the monotony. The ground appeared to be flat, but the road went up and
+      down over little ridges. Madeline glanced backward in the direction of El
+      Cajon and the mountains she had seen the day before, and she saw only bare
+      and dark ground, like that which rolled before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A puff of cold wind struck her face and she shivered. Florence noticed her
+      and pulled up the second robe and tucked it closely round her up to her
+      chin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “If we have a little wind you’ll sure feel it,” said the Western girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline replied that she already felt it. The wind appeared to penetrate
+      the robes. It was cold, pure, nipping. It was so thin she had to breathe
+      as fast as if she were under ordinary exertion. It hurt her nose and made
+      her lungs ache.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aren’t you co-cold?” asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I?” Florence laughed. “I’m used to it. I never get cold.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Western girl sat with ungloved hands on the outside of the robe she
+      evidently did not need to draw up around her. Madeline thought she had
+      never seen such a clear-eyed, healthy, splendid girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Do you like to see the sun rise?” asked Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, I think I do,” replied Madeline, thoughtfully. “Frankly, I have not
+      seen it for years.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “We have beautiful sunrises, and sunsets from the ranch are glorious.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Long lines of pink fire ran level with the eastern horizon, which appeared
+      to recede as day brightened. A bank of thin, fleecy clouds was turning
+      rose. To the south and west the sky was dark; but every moment it changed,
+      the blue turning bluer. The eastern sky was opalescent. Then in one place
+      gathered a golden light, and slowly concentrated till it was like fire.
+      The rosy bank of cloud turned to silver and pearl, and behind it shot up a
+      great circle of gold. Above the dark horizon gleamed an intensely bright
+      disk. It was the sun. It rose swiftly, blazing out the darkness between
+      the ridges and giving color and distance to the sweep of land.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, wal,” drawled Stillwell, and stretched his huge arms as if he had
+      just awakened, “thet’s somethin’ like.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence nudged Madeline and winked at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Fine mawnin’, girls,” went on old Bill, cracking his whip. “Miss Majesty,
+      it’ll be some oninterestin’ ride all mawnin’. But when we get up a bit
+      you’ll sure like it. There! Look to the southwest, jest over thet farthest
+      ridge.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline swept her gaze along the gray, sloping horizon-line to where
+      dark-blue spires rose far beyond the ridge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Peloncillo Mountains,” said Stillwell. “Thet’s home, when we get there.
+      We won’t see no more of them till afternoon, when they rise up
+      sudden-like.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Peloncillo! Madeline murmured the melodious name. Where had she heard it?
+      Then she remembered. The cowboy Stewart had told the little Mexican girl
+      Bonita to “hit the Peloncillo trail.” Probably the girl had ridden the
+      big, dark horse over this very road at night, alone. Madeline had a little
+      shiver that was not occasioned by the cold wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “There’s a jack!” cried Florence, suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw her first jack-rabbit. It was as large as a dog, and its ears
+      were enormous. It appeared to be impudently tame, and the horses kicked
+      dust over it as they trotted by. From then on old Bill and Florence vied
+      with each other in calling Madeline’s attention to many things along the
+      way. Coyotes stealing away into the brush; buzzards flapping over the
+      carcass of a cow that had been mired in a wash; queer little lizards
+      running swiftly across the road; cattle grazing in the hollows; adobe huts
+      of Mexican herders; wild, shaggy horses, with heads high, watching from
+      the gray ridges—all these things Madeline looked at, indifferently
+      at first, because indifference had become habitual with her, and then with
+      an interest that flourished up and insensibly grew as she rode on. It grew
+      until sight of a little ragged Mexican boy astride the most diminutive
+      burro she had ever seen awakened her to the truth. She became conscious of
+      faint, unmistakable awakening of long-dead feelings—enthusiasm and
+      delight. When she realized that, she breathed deep of the cold, sharp air
+      and experienced an inward joy. And she divined then, though she did not
+      know why, that henceforth there was to be something new in her life,
+      something she had never felt before, something good for her soul in the
+      homely, the commonplace, the natural, and the wild.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, as Madeline gazed about her and listened to her companions, the
+      sun rose higher and grew warm and soared and grew hot; the horses held
+      tirelessly to their steady trot, and mile after mile of rolling land
+      slipped by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the top of a ridge Madeline saw down into a hollow where a few of the
+      cowboys had stopped and were sitting round a fire, evidently busy at the
+      noonday meal. Their horses were feeding on the long, gray grass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, smell of thet burnin’ greasewood makes my mouth water,” said
+      Stillwell. “I’m sure hungry. We’ll noon hyar an’ let the hosses rest. It’s
+      a long pull to the ranch.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He halted near the camp-fire, and, clambering down, began to unharness the
+      team. Florence leaped out and turned to help Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Walk round a little,” she said. “You must be cramped from sitting still
+      so long. I’ll get lunch ready.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline got down, glad to stretch her limbs, and began to stroll about.
+      She heard Stillwell throw the harness on the ground and slap his horses.
+      “Roll, you sons-of-guns!” he said. Both horses bent their fore legs,
+      heaved down on their sides, and tried to roll over. One horse succeeded on
+      the fourth try, and then heaved up with a satisfied snort and shook off
+      the dust and gravel. The other one failed to roll over, and gave it up,
+      half rose to his feet, and then lay down on the other side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “He’s sure going to feel the ground,” said Florence, smiling at Madeline.
+      “Miss Hammond, I suppose that prize horse of yours—White Stockings—would
+      spoil his coat if he were heah to roll in this greasewood and cactus.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      During lunch-time Madeline observed that she was an object of manifestly
+      great interest to the three cowboys. She returned the compliment, and was
+      amused to see that a glance their way caused them painful embarrassment.
+      They were grown men—one of whom had white hair—yet they acted
+      like boys caught in the act of stealing a forbidden look at a pretty girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Cowboys are sure all flirts,” said Florence, as if stating an
+      uninteresting fact. But Madeline detected a merry twinkle in her clear
+      eyes. The cowboys heard, and the effect upon them was magical. They fell
+      to shamed confusion and to hurried useless tasks. Madeline found it
+      difficult to see where they had been bold, though evidently they were
+      stricken with conscious guilt. She recalled appraising looks of critical
+      English eyes, impudent French stares, burning Spanish glances—gantlets
+      which any American girl had to run abroad. Compared with foreign eyes the
+      eyes of these cowboys were those of smiling, eager babies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Haw, haw!” roared Stillwell. “Florence, you jest hit the nail on the
+      haid. Cowboys are all plumb flirts. I was wonderin’ why them boys nooned
+      hyar. This ain’t no place to noon. Ain’t no grazin’ or wood wuth burnin’
+      or nuthin’. Them boys jest held up, throwed the packs, an’ waited fer us.
+      It ain’t so surprisin’ fer Booly an’ Ned—they’re young an’ coltish—but
+      Nels there, why, he’s old enough to be the paw of both you girls. It sure
+      is amazin’ strange.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A silence ensued. The white-haired cowboy, Nels, fussed aimlessly over the
+      camp-fire, and then straightened up with a very red face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, you’re a dog-gone liar,” he said. “I reckon I won’t stand to be
+      classed with Booly an’ Ned. There ain’t no cowboy on this range thet’s
+      more appreciatin’ of the ladies than me, but I shore ain’t ridin’ out of
+      my way. I reckon I hev enough ridin’ to do. Now, Bill, if you’ve sich
+      dog-gone good eyes mebbe you seen somethin’ on the way out?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, I hevn’t seen nothin’,” he replied, bluntly. His levity
+      disappeared, and the red wrinkles narrowed round his searching eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Jest take a squint at these hoss tracks,” said Nels, and he drew
+      Stillwell a few paces aside and pointed to large hoofprints in the dust.
+      “I reckon you know the hoss thet made them?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene Stewart’s roan, or I’m a son-of-a-gun!” exclaimed Stillwell, and he
+      dropped heavily to his knees and began to scrutinize the tracks. “My eyes
+      are sure pore; but, Nels, they ain’t fresh.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon them tracks was made early yesterday mornin’.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, what if they was?” Stillwell looked at his cowboy. “It’s sure as
+      thet red nose of yourn Gene wasn’t ridin’ the roan.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Who’s sayin’ he was? Bill, its more ’n your eyes thet’s gettin’ old. Jest
+      foller them tracks. Come on.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell walked slowly, with his head bent, muttering to himself. Some
+      thirty paces or more from the camp-fire he stopped short and again flopped
+      to his knees. Then he crawled about, evidently examining horse tracks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, whoever was straddlin’ Stewart’s hoss met somebody. An’ they hauled
+      up a bit, but didn’t git down.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Tolerable good for you, Bill, thet reasonin’,” replied the cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell presently got up and walked swiftly to the left for some rods,
+      halted, and faced toward the southwest, then retraced his steps. He looked
+      at the imperturbable cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, I don’t like this a little,” he growled. “Them tracks make straight
+      fer the Peloncillo trail.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shore,” replied Nels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal?” went on Stillwell, impatiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon you know what hoss made the other tracks?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m thinkin’ hard, but I ain’t sure.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It was Danny Mains’s bronc.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “How do you know thet?” demanded Stillwell, sharply. “Bill, the left front
+      foot of thet little hoss always wears a shoe thet sets crooked. Any of the
+      boys can tell you. I’d know thet track if I was blind.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell’s ruddy face clouded and he kicked at a cactus plant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Was Danny comin’ or goin’?” he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon he was hittin’ across country fer the Peloncillo trail. But I
+      ain’t shore of thet without back-trailin’ him a ways. I was jest waitin’
+      fer you to come up.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, you don’t think the boy’s sloped with thet little hussy, Bonita?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, he shore was sweet on Bonita, same as Gene was, an’ Ed Linton
+      before he got engaged, an’ all the boys. She’s shore chain-lightnin’, that
+      little black-eyed devil. Danny might hev sloped with her all right. Danny
+      was held up on the way to town, an’ then in the shame of it he got drunk.
+      But he’ll shew up soon.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, mebbe you an’ the boys are right. I believe you are. Nels, there
+      ain’t no doubt on earth about who was ridin’ Stewart’s hoss?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thet’s as plain as the hoss’s tracks.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, it’s all amazin’ strange. It beats me. I wish the boys would ease up
+      on drinkin’. I was pretty fond of Danny an’ Gene. I’m afraid Gene’s done
+      fer, sure. If he crosses the border where he can fight it won’t take long
+      fer him to get plugged. I guess I’m gettin’ old. I don’t stand things like
+      I used to.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, I reckon I’d better hit the Peloncillo trail. Mebbe I can find
+      Danny.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon you had, Nels,” replied Stillwell. “But don’t take more ’n a
+      couple of days. We can’t do much on the round-up without you. I’m short of
+      boys.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That ended the conversation. Stillwell immediately began to hitch up his
+      team, and the cowboys went out to fetch their strayed horses. Madeline had
+      been curiously interested, and she saw that Florence knew it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Things happen, Miss Hammond,” she said, soberly, almost sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline thought. And then straightway Florence began brightly to hum a
+      tune and to busy herself repacking what was left of the lunch. Madeline
+      conceived a strong liking and respect for this Western girl. She admired
+      the consideration or delicacy or wisdom—what-ever it was—which
+      kept Florence from asking her what she knew or thought or felt about the
+      events that had taken place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon they were once more bowling along the road down a gradual incline,
+      and then they began to climb a long ridge that had for hours hidden what
+      lay beyond. That climb was rather tiresome, owing to the sun and the dust
+      and the restricted view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they reached the summit Madeline gave a little gasp of pleasure. A
+      deep, gray, smooth valley opened below and sloped up on the other side in
+      little ridges like waves, and these led to the foothills, dotted with
+      clumps of brush or trees, and beyond rose dark mountains, pine-fringed and
+      crag-spired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Miss Majesty, now we’re gettin’ somewhere,” said Stillwell, cracking
+      his whip. “Ten miles across this valley an’ we’ll be in the foothills
+      where the Apaches used to run.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ten miles!” exclaimed Madeline. “It looks no more than half a mile to
+      me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, young woman, before you go to ridin’ off alone you want to get your
+      eyes corrected to Western distance. Now, what’d you call them black things
+      off there on the slope?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Horsemen. No, cattle,” replied Madeline, doubtfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nope. Jest plain, every-day cactus. An’ over hyar—look down the
+      valley. Somethin’ of a pretty forest, ain’t thet?” he asked, pointing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw a beautiful forest in the center of the valley toward the
+      south.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Miss Majesty, thet’s jest this deceivin’ air. There’s no forest.
+      It’s a mirage.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Indeed! How beautiful it is!” Madeline strained her gaze on the dark
+      blot, and it seemed to float in the atmosphere, to have no clearly defined
+      margins, to waver and shimmer, and then it faded and vanished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mountains dropped down again behind the horizon, and presently the
+      road began once more to slope up. The horses slowed to a walk. There was a
+      mile of rolling ridge, and then came the foothills. The road ascended
+      through winding valleys. Trees and brush and rocks began to appear in the
+      dry ravines. There was no water, yet all along the sandy washes were
+      indications of floods at some periods. The heat and the dust stifled
+      Madeline, and she had already become tired. Still she looked with all her
+      eyes and saw birds, and beautiful quail with crests, and rabbits, and once
+      she saw a deer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty,” said Stillwell, “in the early days the Indians made this
+      country a bad one to live in. I reckon you never heerd much about them
+      times. Surely you was hardly born then. I’ll hev to tell you some day how
+      I fought Comanches in the Panhandle—thet was northern Texas—an’
+      I had some mighty hair-raisin’ scares in this country with Apaches.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He told her about Cochise, chief of the Chiricahua Apaches, the most
+      savage and bloodthirsty tribe that ever made life a horror for the
+      pioneer. Cochise befriended the whites once; but he was the victim of that
+      friendliness, and he became the most implacable of foes. Then, Geronimo,
+      another Apache chief, had, as late as 1885, gone on the war-path, and had
+      left a bloody trail down the New Mexico and Arizona line almost to the
+      border. Lone ranchmen and cowboys had been killed, and mothers had shot
+      their children and then themselves at the approach of the Apache. The name
+      Apache curdled the blood of any woman of the Southwest in those days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline shuddered, and was glad when the old frontiersman changed the
+      subject and began to talk of the settling of that country by the
+      Spaniards, the legends of lost gold-mines handed down to the Mexicans, and
+      strange stories of heroism and mystery and religion. The Mexicans had not
+      advanced much in spite of the spread of civilization to the Southwest.
+      They were still superstitious, and believed the legends of treasures
+      hidden in the walls of their missions, and that unseen hands rolled rocks
+      down the gullies upon the heads of prospectors who dared to hunt for the
+      lost mines of the padres.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Up in the mountains back of my ranch there’s a lost mine,” said
+      Stillwell. “Mebbe it’s only a legend. But somehow I believe it’s there.
+      Other lost mines hev been found. An’ as fer’ the rollin’ stones, I sure
+      know thet’s true, as any one can find out if he goes trailin’ up the
+      gulch. Mebbe thet’s only the weatherin’ of the cliffs. It’s a sleepy,
+      strange country, this Southwest, an’, Miss Majesty, you’re a-goin’ to love
+      it. You’ll call it ro-mantic, Wal, I reckon ro-mantic is correct. A feller
+      gets lazy out hyar an’ dreamy, an’ he wants to put off work till
+      to-morrow. Some folks say it’s a land of manana—a land of to-morrow.
+      Thet’s the Mexican of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “But I like best to think of what a lady said to me onct—an
+      eddicated lady like you, Miss Majesty. Wal, she said it’s a land where
+      it’s always afternoon. I liked thet. I always get up sore in the mawnin’s,
+      an’ don’t feel good till noon. But in the afternoon I get sorta warm an’
+      like things. An’ sunset is my time. I reckon I don’t want nothin’ any
+      finer than sunset from my ranch. You look out over a valley that spreads
+      wide between Guadalupe Mountains an’ the Chiricahuas, down across the red
+      Arizona desert clear to the Sierra Madres in Mexico. Two hundred miles,
+      Miss Majesty! An’ all as clear as print! An’ the sun sets behind all thet!
+      When my time comes to die I’d like it to be on my porch smokin’ my pipe
+      an’ facin’ the west.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the old cattleman talked on while Madeline listened, and Florence dozed
+      in her seat, and the sun began to wane, and the horses climbed steadily.
+      Presently, at the foot of the steep ascent, Stillwell got out and walked,
+      leading the team. During this long climb fatigue claimed Madeline, and she
+      drowsily closed her eyes, to find when she opened them again that the
+      glaring white sky had changed to a steel-blue. The sun had sunk behind the
+      foothills and the air was growing chilly. Stillwell had returned to the
+      driving-seat and was chuckling to the horses. Shadows crept up out of the
+      hollows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Flo,” said Stillwell, “I reckon we’d better hev the rest of thet
+      there lunch before dark.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You didn’t leave much of it,” laughed Florence, as she produced the
+      basket from under the seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While they ate, the short twilight shaded and gloom filled the hollows.
+      Madeline saw the first star, a faint, winking point of light. The sky had
+      now changed to a hazy gray. Madeline saw it gradually clear and darken, to
+      show other faint stars. After that there was perceptible deepening of the
+      gray and an enlarging of the stars and a brightening of new-born ones.
+      Night seemed to come on the cold wind. Madeline was glad to have the robes
+      close around her and to lean against Florence. The hollows were now black,
+      but the tops of the foothills gleamed pale in a soft light. The steady
+      tramp of the horses went on, and the creak of wheels and crunching of
+      gravel. Madeline grew so sleepy that she could not keep her weary eyelids
+      from falling. There were drowsier spells in which she lost a feeling of
+      where she was, and these were disturbed by the jolt of wheels over a rough
+      place. Then came a blank interval, short or long, which ended in a more
+      violent lurch of the buckboard. Madeline awoke to find her head on
+      Florence’s shoulder. She sat up laughing and apologizing for her laziness.
+      Florence assured her they would soon reach the ranch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline observed then that the horses were once more trotting. The wind
+      was colder, the night darker, the foot-hills flatter. And the sky was now
+      a wonderful deep velvet-blue blazing with millions of stars. Some of them
+      were magnificent. How strangely white and alive! Again Madeline felt the
+      insistence of familiar yet baffling associations. These white stars called
+      strangely to her or haunted her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      V. The Round-Up
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      It was a crackling and roaring of fire that awakened Madeline next
+      morning, and the first thing she saw was a huge stone fireplace in which
+      lay a bundle of blazing sticks. Some one had kindled a fire while she
+      slept. For a moment the curious sensation of being lost returned to her.
+      She just dimly remembered reaching the ranch and being taken into a huge
+      house and a huge, dimly lighted room. And it seemed to her that she had
+      gone to sleep at once, and had awakened without remembering how she had
+      gotten to bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she was wide awake in an instant. The bed stood near one end of an
+      enormous chamber. The adobe walls resembled a hall in an ancient feudal
+      castle, stone-floored, stone-walled, with great darkened rafters running
+      across the ceiling. The few articles of furniture were worn out and sadly
+      dilapidated. Light flooded into the room from two windows on the right of
+      the fireplace and two on the left, and another large window near the
+      bedstead. Looking out from where she lay, Madeline saw a dark, slow
+      up-sweep of mountain. Her eyes returned to the cheery, snapping fire, and
+      she watched it while gathering courage to get up. The room was cold. When
+      she did slip her bare feet out upon the stone floor she very quickly put
+      them back under the warm blankets. And she was still in bed trying to
+      pluck up her courage when, with a knock on the door and a cheerful
+      greeting, Florence entered, carrying steaming hot water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Good mawnin’, Miss Hammond. Hope you slept well. You sure were tired last
+      night. I imagine you’ll find this old rancho house as cold as a barn.
+      It’ll warm up directly. Al’s gone with the boys and Bill. We’re to ride
+      down on the range after a while when your baggage comes.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence wore a woolen blouse with a scarf round her neck, a short
+      corduroy divided skirt, and boots; and while she talked she energetically
+      heaped up the burning wood in the fireplace, and laid Madeline’s clothes
+      at the foot of the bed, and heated a rug and put that on the floor by the
+      bedside. And lastly, with a sweet, direct smile, she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Al told me—and I sure saw myself—that you weren’t used to
+      being without your maid. Will you let me help you?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thank you, I am going to be my own maid for a while. I expect I do appear
+      a very helpless individual, but really I do not feel so. Perhaps I have
+      had just a little too much waiting on.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “All right. Breakfast will be ready soon, and after that we’ll look about
+      the place.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was charmed with the old Spanish house, and the more she saw of
+      it the more she thought what a delightful home it could be made. All the
+      doors opened into a courtyard, or patio, as Florence called it. The house
+      was low, in the shape of a rectangle, and so immense in size that Madeline
+      wondered if it had been a Spanish barracks. Many of the rooms were dark,
+      without windows, and they were empty. Others were full of ranchers’
+      implements and sacks of grain and bales of hay. Florence called these last
+      alfalfa. The house itself appeared strong and well preserved, and it was
+      very picturesque. But in the living-rooms were only the barest
+      necessities, and these were worn out and comfortless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, when Madeline went outdoors she forgot the cheerless, bare
+      interior. Florence led the way out on a porch and waved a hand at a vast,
+      colored void. “That’s what Bill likes,” she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first Madeline could not tell what was sky and what was land. The
+      immensity of the scene stunned her faculties of conception. She sat down
+      in one of the old rocking-chairs and looked and looked, and knew that she
+      was not grasping the reality of what stretched wondrously before her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “We’re up at the edge of the foothills,” Florence said. “You remember we
+      rode around the northern end of the mountain range? Well, that’s behind us
+      now, and you look down across the line into Arizona and Mexico. That long
+      slope of gray is the head of the San Bernardino Valley. Straight across
+      you see the black Chiricahua Mountains, and away down to the south the
+      Guadalupe Mountains. That awful red gulf between is the desert, and far,
+      far beyond the dim, blue peaks are the Sierra Madres in Mexico.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline listened and gazed with straining eyes, and wondered if this was
+      only a stupendous mirage, and why it seemed so different from all else
+      that she had seen, and so endless, so baffling, so grand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It’ll sure take you a little while to get used to being up high and
+      seeing so much,” explained Florence. “That’s the secret—we’re up
+      high, the air is clear, and there’s the whole bare world beneath us. Don’t
+      it somehow rest you? Well, it will. Now see those specks in the valley.
+      They are stations, little towns. The railroad goes down that way. The
+      largest speck is Chiricahua. It’s over forty miles by trail. Here round to
+      the north you can see Don Carlos’s rancho. He’s fifteen miles off, and I
+      sure wish he were a thousand. That little green square about half-way
+      between here and Don Carlos—that’s Al’s ranch. Just below us are the
+      adobe houses of the Mexicans. There’s a church, too. And here to the left
+      you see Stillwell’s corrals and bunk-houses and his stables all falling to
+      pieces. The ranch has gone to ruin. All the ranches are going to ruin. But
+      most of them are little one-horse affairs. And here—see that cloud
+      of dust down in the valley? It’s the round-up. The boys are there, and the
+      cattle. Wait, I’ll get the glasses.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By their aid Madeline saw in the foreground a great, dense herd of cattle
+      with dark, thick streams and dotted lines of cattle leading in every
+      direction. She saw streaks and clouds of dust, running horses, and a band
+      of horses grazing; and she descried horsemen standing still like
+      sentinels, and others in action.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “The round-up! I want to know all about it—to see it,” declared
+      Madeline. “Please tell me what it means, what it’s for, and then take me
+      down there.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It’s sure a sight, Miss Hammond. I’ll be glad to take you down, but I
+      fancy you’ll not want to go close. Few Eastern people who regularly eat
+      their choice cuts of roast beef and porterhouse have any idea of the open
+      range and the struggle cattle have to live and the hard life of cowboys.
+      It’ll sure open your eyes, Miss Hammond. I’m glad you care to know. Your
+      brother would have made a big success in this cattle business if it hadn’t
+      been for crooked work by rival ranchers. He’ll make it yet, in spite of
+      them.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Indeed he shall,” replied Madeline. “But tell me, please, all about the
+      round-up.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, in the first place, every cattleman has to have a brand to identify
+      his stock. Without it no cattleman, nor half a hundred cowboys, if he had
+      so many, could ever recognize all the cattle in a big herd. There are no
+      fences on our ranges. They are all open to everybody. Some day I hope
+      we’ll be rich enough to fence a range. The different herds graze together.
+      Every calf has to be caught, if possible, and branded with the mark of its
+      mother. That’s no easy job. A maverick is an unbranded calf that has been
+      weaned and shifts for itself. The maverick then belongs to the man who
+      finds it and brands it. These little calves that lose their mothers sure
+      have a cruel time of it. Many of them die. Then the coyotes and wolves and
+      lions prey on them. Every year we have two big round-ups, but the boys do
+      some branding all the year. A calf should be branded as soon as it’s
+      found. This is a safeguard against cattle-thieves. We don’t have the
+      rustling of herds and bunches of cattle like we used to. But there’s
+      always the calf-thief, and always will be as long as there’s
+      cattle-raising. The thieves have a good many cunning tricks. They kill the
+      calf’s mother or slit the calf’s tongue so it can’t suck and so loses its
+      mother. They steal and hide a calf and watch it till it’s big enough to
+      fare for itself, and then brand it. They make imperfect brands and finish
+      them at a later time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “We have our big round-up in the fall, when there’s plenty of grass and
+      water, and all the riding-stock as well as the cattle are in fine shape.
+      The cattlemen in the valley meet with their cowboys and drive in all the
+      cattle they can find. Then they brand and cut out each man’s herd and
+      drive it toward home. Then they go on up or down the valley, make another
+      camp, and drive in more cattle. It takes weeks. There are so many Greasers
+      with little bands of stock, and they are crafty and greedy. Bill says he
+      knows Greaser cowboys, vaqueros, who never owned a steer or a cow, and now
+      they’ve got growing herds. The same might be said of more than one white
+      cowboy. But there’s not as much of that as there used to be.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “And the horses? I want to know about them,” said Madeline, when Florence
+      paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, the cow-ponies! Well, they sure are interesting. Broncos, the boys
+      call them. Wild! they’re wilder than the steers they have to chase. Bill’s
+      got broncos heah that never have been broken and never will be. And not
+      every boy can ride them, either. The vaqueros have the finest horses. Don
+      Carlos has a black that I’d give anything to own. And he has other fine
+      stock. Gene Stewart’s big roan is a Mexican horse, the swiftest and
+      proudest I ever saw. I was up on him once and—oh, he can run! He
+      likes a woman, too, and that’s sure something I want in a horse. I heard
+      Al and Bill talking at breakfast about a horse for you. They were
+      wrangling. Bill wanted you to have one, and Al another. It was funny to
+      hear them. Finally they left the choice to me, until the round-up is over.
+      Then I suppose every cowboy on the range will offer you his best mount.
+      Come, let’s go out to the corrals and look over the few horses left.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For Madeline the morning hours flew by, with a goodly part of the time
+      spent on the porch gazing out over that ever-changing vista. At noon a
+      teamster drove up with her trunks. Then while Florence helped the Mexican
+      woman get lunch Madeline unpacked part of her effects and got out things
+      for which she would have immediate need. After lunch she changed her dress
+      for a riding-habit and, going outside, found Florence waiting with the
+      horses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Western girl’s clear eyes seemed to take stock of Madeline’s
+      appearance in one swift, inquisitive glance and then shone with pleasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You sure look—you’re a picture, Miss Hammond. That riding-outfit is
+      a new one. What it ’d look like on me or another woman I can’t imagine,
+      but on you it’s—it’s stunning. Bill won’t let you go within a mile
+      of the cowboys. If they see you that’ll be the finish of the round-up.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While they rode down the slope Florence talked about the open ranges of
+      New Mexico and Arizona.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Water is scarce,” she said. “If Bill could afford to pipe water down from
+      the mountains he’d have the finest ranch in the valley.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went on to tell that the climate was mild in winter and hot in summer.
+      Warm, sunshiny days prevailed nearly all the year round. Some summers it
+      rained, and occasionally there would be a dry year, the dreaded ano seco
+      of the Mexicans. Rain was always expected and prayed for in the midsummer
+      months, and when it came the grama-grass sprang up, making the valleys
+      green from mountain to mountain. The intersecting valleys, ranging between
+      the long slope of foothills, afforded the best pasture for cattle, and
+      these were jealously sought by the Mexicans who had only small herds to
+      look after. Stillwell’s cowboys were always chasing these vaqueros off
+      land that belonged to Stillwell. He owned twenty thousand acres of
+      unfenced land adjoining the open range. Don Carlos possessed more acreage
+      than that, and his cattle were always mingling with Stillwell’s. And in
+      turn Don Carlos’s vaqueros were always chasing Stillwell’s cattle away
+      from the Mexican’s watering-place. Bad feeling had been manifested for
+      years, and now relations were strained to the breaking-point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Madeline rode along she made good use of her eyes. The soil was sandy
+      and porous, and she understood why the rain and water from the few springs
+      disappeared so quickly. At a little distance the grama-grass appeared
+      thick, but near at hand it was seen to be sparse. Bunches of greasewood
+      and cactus plants were interspersed here and there in the grass. What
+      surprised Madeline was the fact that, though she and Florence had seemed
+      to be riding quite awhile, they had apparently not drawn any closer to the
+      round-up. The slope of the valley was noticeable only after some miles had
+      been traversed. Looking forward, Madeline imagined the valley only a few
+      miles wide. She would have been sure she could walk her horse across it in
+      an hour. Yet that black, bold range of Chiricahua Mountains was distant a
+      long day’s journey for even a hard-riding cowboy. It was only by looking
+      back that Madeline could grasp the true relation of things; she could not
+      be deceived by distance she had covered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gradually the black dots enlarged and assumed shape of cattle and horses
+      moving round a great dusty patch. In another half-hour Madeline rode
+      behind Florence to the outskirts of the scene of action. They drew rein
+      near a huge wagon in the neighborhood of which were more than a hundred
+      horses grazing and whistling and trotting about and lifting heads to watch
+      the new-comers. Four cowboys stood mounted guard over this drove of
+      horses. Perhaps a quarter of a mile farther out was a dusty melee. A roar
+      of tramping hoofs filled Madeline’s ears. The lines of marching cattle had
+      merged into a great, moving herd half obscured by dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I can make little of what is going on,” said Madeline. “I want to go
+      closer.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They trotted across half the intervening distance, and when Florence
+      halted again Madeline was still not satisfied and asked to be taken
+      nearer. This time, before they reined in again, Al Hammond saw them and
+      wheeled his horse in their direction. He yelled something which Madeline
+      did not understand, and then halted them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Close enough,” he called; and in the din his voice was not very clear.
+      “It’s not safe. Wild steers! I’m glad you came, girls. Majesty, what do
+      you think of that bunch of cattle?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline could scarcely reply what she thought, for the noise and dust and
+      ceaseless action confused her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “They’re milling, Al,” said Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “We just rounded them up. They’re milling, and that’s bad. The vaqueros
+      are hard drivers. They beat us all hollow, and we drove some, too.” He was
+      wet with sweat, black with dust, and out of breath. “I’m off now. Flo, my
+      sister will have enough of this in about two minutes. Take her back to the
+      wagon. I’ll tell Bill you’re here, and run in whenever I get a minute.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The bawling and bellowing, the crackling of horns and pounding of hoofs,
+      the dusty whirl of cattle, and the flying cowboys disconcerted Madeline
+      and frightened her a little; but she was intensely interested and meant to
+      stay there until she saw for herself what that strife of sound and action
+      meant. When she tried to take in the whole scene she did not make out
+      anything clearly and she determined to see it little by little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Will you stay longer?” asked Florence; and, receiving an affirmative
+      reply, she warned Madeline: “If a runaway steer or angry cow comes this
+      way let your horse go. He’ll get out of the way.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That lent the situation excitement, and Madeline became absorbed. The
+      great mass of cattle seemed to be eddying like a whirlpool, and from that
+      Madeline understood the significance of the range word “milling.” But when
+      Madeline looked at one end of the herd she saw cattle standing still,
+      facing outward, and calves cringing close in fear. The motion of the
+      cattle slowed from the inside of the herd to the outside and gradually
+      ceased. The roar and tramp of hoofs and crack of horns and thump of heads
+      also ceased in degree, but the bawling and bellowing continued. While she
+      watched, the herd spread, grew less dense, and stragglers appeared to be
+      about to bolt through the line of mounted cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From that moment so many things happened, and so swiftly, that Madeline
+      could not see a tenth of what was going on within eyesight. It seemed
+      horsemen darted into the herd and drove out cattle. Madeline pinned her
+      gaze on one cowboy who rode a white horse and was chasing a steer. He
+      whirled a lasso around his head and threw it; the rope streaked out and
+      the loop caught the leg of the steer. The white horse stopped with
+      wonderful suddenness, and the steer slid in the dust. Quick as a flash the
+      cowboy was out of the saddle, and, grasping the legs of the steer before
+      it could rise, he tied them with a rope. It had all been done almost as
+      quickly as thought. Another man came with what Madeline divined was a
+      branding-iron. He applied it to the flank of the steer. Then it seemed the
+      steer was up with a jump, wildly looking for some way to run, and the
+      cowboy was circling his lasso. Madeline saw fires in the background, with
+      a man in charge, evidently heating the irons. Then this same cowboy roped
+      a heifer which bawled lustily when the hot iron seared its hide. Madeline
+      saw the smoke rising from the touch of the iron, and the sight made her
+      shrink and want to turn away, but she resolutely fought her sensitiveness.
+      She had never been able to bear the sight of any animal suffering. The
+      rough work in men’s lives was as a sealed book to her; and now, for some
+      reason beyond her knowledge, she wanted to see and hear and learn some of
+      the every-day duties that made up those lives.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Look, Miss Hammond, there’s Don Carlos!” said Florence. “Look at that
+      black horse!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeleine saw a dark-faced Mexican riding by. He was too far away for her
+      to distinguish his features, but he reminded her of an Italian brigand. He
+      bestrode a magnificent horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell rode up to the girls then and greeted them in his big voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Right in the thick of it, hey? Wal, thet’s sure fine. I’m glad to see,
+      Miss Majesty, thet you ain’t afraid of a little dust or smell of burnin’
+      hide an’ hair.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Couldn’t you brand the calves without hurting them?” asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Haw, haw! Why, they ain’t hurt none. They jest bawl for their mammas.
+      Sometimes, though, we hev to hurt one jest to find which is his mamma.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I want to know how you tell what brand to put on those calves that are
+      separated from their mothers,” asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thet’s decided by the round-up bosses. I’ve one boss an’ Don Carlos has
+      one. They decide everything, an’ they hev to be obyed. There’s Nick
+      Steele, my boss. Watch him! He’s ridin’ a bay in among the cattle there.
+      He orders the calves an’ steers to be cut out. Then the cowboys do the
+      cuttin’ out an’ the brandin’. We try to divide up the mavericks as near as
+      possible.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this juncture Madeline’s brother joined the group, evidently in search
+      of Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, Nels just rode in,” he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Good! We sure need him. Any news of Danny Mains?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No. Nels said he lost the trail when he got on hard ground.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, wal. Say, Al, your sister is sure takin’ to the round-up. An’ the
+      boys are gettin’ wise. See thet sun-of-a-gun Ambrose cuttin’ capers all
+      around. He’ll sure do his prettiest. Ambrose is a ladies’ man, he thinks.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men and Florence joined in a little pleasant teasing of Madeline,
+      and drew her attention to what appeared to be really unnecessary feats of
+      horsemanship all made in her vicinity. The cowboys evinced their interest
+      in covert glances while recoiling a lasso or while passing to and fro. It
+      was all too serious for Madeline to be amused at that moment. She did not
+      care to talk. She sat her horse and watched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lithe, dark vaqueros fascinated her. They were here, there,
+      everywhere, with lariats flying, horses plunging back, jerking calves and
+      yearlings to the grass. They were cruel to their mounts, cruel to their
+      cattle. Madeline winced as the great silver rowels of the spurs went
+      plowing into the flanks of their horses. She saw these spurs stained with
+      blood, choked with hair. She saw the vaqueros break the legs of calves and
+      let them lie till a white cowboy came along and shot them. Calves were
+      jerked down and dragged many yards; steers were pulled by one leg. These
+      vaqueros were the most superb horsemen Madeline had ever seen, and she had
+      seen the Cossacks and Tatars of the Russian steppes. They were swift,
+      graceful, daring; they never failed to catch a running steer, and the
+      lassoes always went true. What sharp dashes the horses made, and wheelings
+      here and there, and sudden stops, and how they braced themselves to
+      withstand the shock!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboys, likewise, showed wonderful horsemanship, and, reckless as
+      they were, Madeline imagined she saw consideration for steed and cattle
+      that was wanting in the vaqueros. They changed mounts oftener than the
+      Mexican riders, and the horses they unsaddled for fresh ones were not so
+      spent, so wet, so covered with lather. It was only after an hour or more
+      of observation that Madeline began to realize the exceedingly toilsome and
+      dangerous work cowboys had to perform. There was little or no rest for
+      them. They were continually among wild and vicious and wide-horned steers.
+      In many instances they owed their lives to their horses. The danger came
+      mostly when the cowboy leaped off to tie and brand a calf he had thrown.
+      Some of the cows charged with lowered, twisting horns. Time and again
+      Madeline’s heart leaped to her throat for fear a man would be gored. One
+      cowboy roped a calf that bawled loudly. Its mother dashed in and just
+      missed the kneeling cowboy as he rolled over. Then he had to run, and he
+      could not run very fast. He was bow-legged and appeared awkward. Madeline
+      saw another cowboy thrown and nearly run over by a plunging steer. His
+      horse bolted as if it intended to leave the range. Then close by Madeline
+      a big steer went down at the end of a lasso. The cowboy who had thrown it
+      nimbly jumped down, and at that moment his horse began to rear and prance
+      and suddenly to lower his head close to the ground and kick high. He ran
+      round in a circle, the fallen steer on the taut lasso acting as a pivot.
+      The cowboy loosed the rope from the steer, and then was dragged about on
+      the grass. It was almost frightful for Madeline to see that cowboy go at
+      his horse. But she recognized the mastery and skill. Then two horses came
+      into collision on the run. One horse went down; the rider of the other was
+      unseated and was kicked before he could get up. This fellow limped to his
+      mount and struck at him, while the horse showed his teeth in a vicious
+      attempt to bite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the while this ceaseless activity was going on there was a strange
+      uproar—bawl and bellow, the shock of heavy bodies meeting and
+      falling, the shrill jabbering of the vaqueros, and the shouts and
+      banterings of the cowboys. They took sharp orders and replied in jest.
+      They went about this stern toil as if it were a game to be played in good
+      humor. One sang a rollicking song, another whistled, another smoked a
+      cigarette. The sun was hot, and they, like their horses, were dripping
+      with sweat. The characteristic red faces had taken on so much dust that
+      cowboys could not be distinguished from vaqueros except by the difference
+      in dress. Blood was not wanting on tireless hands. The air was thick,
+      oppressive, rank with the smell of cattle and of burning hide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline began to sicken. She choked with dust, was almost stifled by the
+      odor. But that made her all the more determined to stay there. Florence
+      urged her to come away, or at least move back out of the worst of it.
+      Stillwell seconded Florence. Madeline, however, smilingly refused. Then
+      her brother said: “Here, this is making you sick. You’re pale.” And she
+      replied that she intended to stay until the day’s work ended. Al gave her
+      a strange look, and made no more comment. The kindly Stillwell then began
+      to talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, you’re seein’ the life of the cattleman an’ cowboy—the
+      real thing—same as it was in the early days. The ranchers in Texas
+      an’ some in Arizona hev took on style, new-fangled idees thet are good,
+      an’ I wish we could follow them. But we’ve got to stick to the
+      old-fashioned, open-range round-up. It looks cruel to you, I can see thet.
+      Wal, mebbe so, mebbe so. Them Greasers are cruel, thet’s certain. Fer thet
+      matter, I never seen a Greaser who wasn’t cruel. But I reckon all the
+      strenuous work you’ve seen to-day ain’t any tougher than most any day of a
+      cowboy’s life. Long hours on hossback, poor grub, sleepin’ on the ground,
+      lonesome watches, dust an’ sun an’ wind an’ thirst, day in an’ day out all
+      the year round—thet’s what a cowboy has.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Look at Nels there. See, what little hair he has is snow-white. He’s red
+      an’ thin an’ hard—burned up. You notice thet hump of his shoulders.
+      An’ his hands, when he gets close—jest take a peep at his hands.
+      Nels can’t pick up a pin. He can’t hardly button his shirt or untie a knot
+      in his rope. He looks sixty years—an old man. Wal, Nels ‘ain’t seen
+      forty. He’s a young man, but he’s seen a lifetime fer every year. Miss
+      Majesty, it was Arizona thet made Nels what he is, the Arizona desert an’
+      the work of a cowman. He’s seen ridin’ at Canyon Diablo an’ the Verdi an’
+      Tonto Basin. He knows every mile of Aravaipa Valley an’ the Pinaleno
+      country. He’s ranged from Tombstone to Douglas. He hed shot bad white men
+      an’ bad Greasers before he was twenty-one. He’s seen some life, Nels has.
+      My sixty years ain’t nothin’; my early days in the Staked Plains an’ on
+      the border with Apaches ain’t nothin’ to what Nels has seen an’ lived
+      through. He’s just come to be part of the desert; you might say he’s stone
+      an’ fire an’ silence an’ cactus an’ force. He’s a man, Miss Majesty, a
+      wonderful man. Rough he’ll seem to you. Wal, I’ll show you pieces of
+      quartz from the mountains back of my ranch an’ they’re thet rough they’d
+      cut your hands. But there’s pure gold in them. An’ so it is with Nels an’
+      many of these cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “An’ there’s Price—Monty Price. Monty stands fer Montana, where he
+      hails from. Take a good look at him, Miss Majesty. He’s been hurt, I
+      reckon. Thet accounts fer him bein’ without hoss or rope; an’ thet limp.
+      Wal, he’s been ripped a little. It’s sure rare an seldom thet a cowboy
+      gets foul of one of them thousands of sharp horns; but it does happen.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw a very short, wizened little man, ludicrously bow-legged,
+      with a face the color and hardness of a burned-out cinder. He was hobbling
+      by toward the wagon, and one of his short, crooked legs dragged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Not much to look at, is he?” went on Stillwell. “Wal; I know it’s natural
+      thet we’re all best pleased by good looks in any one, even a man. It
+      hedn’t ought to be thet way. Monty Price looks like hell. But appearances
+      are sure deceivin’. Monty saw years of ridin’ along the Missouri bottoms,
+      the big prairies, where there’s high grass an’ sometimes fires. In Montana
+      they have blizzards that freeze cattle standin’ in their tracks. An’
+      hosses freeze to death. They tell me thet a drivin’ sleet in the face with
+      the mercury forty below is somethin’ to ride against. You can’t get Monty
+      to say much about cold. All you hev to do is to watch him, how he hunts
+      the sun. It never gets too hot fer Monty. Wal, I reckon he was a little
+      more prepossessin’ once. The story thet come to us about Monty is this: He
+      got caught out in a prairie fire an’ could hev saved himself easy, but
+      there was a lone ranch right in the line of fire, an’ Monty knowed the
+      rancher was away, an’ his wife an’ baby was home. He knowed, too, the way
+      the wind was, thet the ranch-house would burn. It was a long chance he was
+      takin’. But he went over, put the woman up behind him, wrapped the baby
+      an’ his hoss’s haid in a wet blanket, an’ rode away. Thet was sure some
+      ride, I’ve heerd. But the fire ketched Monty at the last. The woman fell
+      an’ was lost, an’ then his hoss. An’ Monty ran an’ walked an’ crawled
+      through the fire with thet baby, an’ he saved it. Monty was never much
+      good as a cowboy after thet. He couldn’t hold no jobs. Wal, he’ll have one
+      with me as long as I have a steer left.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      VI. A Gift and A Purchase
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      For a week the scene of the round-up lay within riding-distance of the
+      ranch-house, and Madeline passed most of this time in the saddle, watching
+      the strenuous labors of the vaqueros and cowboys. She overestimated her
+      strength, and more than once had to be lifted from her horse. Stillwell’s
+      pleasure in her attendance gave place to concern. He tried to persuade her
+      to stay away from the round-up, and Florence grew even more solicitous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, however, was not moved by their entreaties. She grasped only
+      dimly the truth of what it was she was learning—something infinitely
+      more than the rounding up of cattle by cowboys, and she was loath to lose
+      an hour of her opportunity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her brother looked out for her as much as his duties permitted; but for
+      several days he never once mentioned her growing fatigue and the strain of
+      excitement, or suggested that she had better go back to the house with
+      Florence. Many times she felt the drawing power of his keen blue eyes on
+      her face. And at these moments she sensed more than brotherly regard. He
+      was watching her, studying her, weighing her, and the conviction was
+      vaguely disturbing. It was disquieting for Madeline to think that Alfred
+      might have guessed her trouble. From time to time he brought cowboys to
+      her and introduced them, and laughed and jested, trying to make the ordeal
+      less embarrassing for these men so little used to women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before the week was out, however, Alfred found occasion to tell her that
+      it would be wiser for her to let the round-up go on without gracing it
+      further with her presence. He said it laughingly; nevertheless, he was
+      serious. And when Madeline turned to him in surprise he said, bluntly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I don’t like the way Don Carlos follows you around. Bill’s afraid that
+      Nels or Ambrose or one of the cowboys will take a fall out of the Mexican.
+      They’re itching for the chance. Of course, dear, it’s absurd to you, but
+      it’s true.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Absurd it certainly was, yet it served to show Madeline how intensely
+      occupied she had been with her own feelings, roused by the tumult and toil
+      of the round-up. She recalled that Don Carlos had been presented to her,
+      and that she had not liked his dark, striking face with its bold,
+      prominent, glittering eyes and sinister lines; and she had not liked his
+      suave, sweet, insinuating voice or his subtle manner, with its slow bows
+      and gestures. She had thought he looked handsome and dashing on the
+      magnificent black horse. However, now that Alfred’s words made her think,
+      she recalled that wherever she had been in the field the noble horse, with
+      his silver-mounted saddle and his dark rider, had been always in her
+      vicinity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Don Carlos has been after Florence for a long time,” said Alfred. “He’s
+      not a young man by any means. He’s fifty, Bill says; but you can seldom
+      tell a Mexican’s age from his looks. Don Carlos is well educated and a man
+      we know very little about. Mexicans of his stamp don’t regard women as we
+      white men do. Now, my dear, beautiful sister from New York, I haven’t much
+      use for Don Carlos; but I don’t want Nels or Ambrose to make a wild throw
+      with a rope and pull the Don off his horse. So you had better ride up to
+      the house and stay there.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Alfred, you are joking, teasing me,” said Madeline. “Indeed not,” replied
+      Alfred. “How about it, Flo?” Florence replied that the cowboys would upon
+      the slightest provocation treat Don Carlos with less ceremony and
+      gentleness than a roped steer. Old Bill Stillwell came up to be importuned
+      by Alfred regarding the conduct of cowboys on occasion, and he not only
+      corroborated the assertion, but added emphasis and evidence of his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “An’, Miss Majesty,” he concluded, “I reckon if Gene Stewart was ridin’
+      fer me, thet grinnin’ Greaser would hev hed a bump in the dust before
+      now.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had been wavering between sobriety and laughter until Stillwell’s
+      mention of his ideal of cowboy chivalry decided in favor of the laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am not convinced, but I surrender,” she said. “You have only some
+      occult motive for driving me away. I am sure that handsome Don Carlos is
+      being unjustly suspected. But as I have seen a little of cowboys’ singular
+      imagination and gallantry, I am rather inclined to fear their
+      possibilities. So good-by.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she rode with Florence up the long, gray slope to the ranch-house.
+      That night she suffered from excessive weariness, which she attributed
+      more to the strange working of her mind than to riding and sitting her
+      horse. Morning, however, found her in no disposition to rest. It was not
+      activity that she craved, or excitement, or pleasure. An unerring
+      instinct, rising dear from the thronging sensations of the last few days,
+      told her that she had missed something in life. It could not have been
+      love, for she loved brother, sister, parents, friends; it could not have
+      been consideration for the poor, the unfortunate, the hapless; she had
+      expressed her sympathy for these by giving freely; it could not have been
+      pleasure, culture, travel, society, wealth, position, fame, for these had
+      been hers all her life. Whatever this something was, she had baffling
+      intimations of it, hopes that faded on the verge of realizations, haunting
+      promises that were unfulfilled. Whatever it was, it had remained hidden
+      and unknown at home, and here in the West it began to allure and drive her
+      to discovery. Therefore she could not rest; she wanted to go and see; she
+      was no longer chasing phantoms; it was a hunt for treasure that held
+      aloof, as intangible as the substance of dreams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That morning she spoke a desire to visit the Mexican quarters lying at the
+      base of the foothills. Florence protested that this was no place to take
+      Madeline. But Madeline insisted, and it required only a few words and a
+      persuading smile to win Florence over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the porch the cluster of adobe houses added a picturesque touch of
+      color and contrast to the waste of gray valley. Near at hand they proved
+      the enchantment lent by distance. They were old, crumbling, broken down,
+      squalid. A few goats climbed around upon them; a few mangy dogs barked
+      announcement of visitors; and then a troop of half-naked, dirty, ragged
+      children ran out. They were very shy, and at first retreated in affright.
+      But kind words and smiles gained their confidence, and then they followed
+      in a body, gathering a quota of new children at each house. Madeline at
+      once conceived the idea of doing something to better the condition of
+      these poor Mexicans, and with this in mind she decided to have a look
+      indoors. She fancied she might have been an apparition, judging from the
+      effect her presence had upon the first woman she encountered. While
+      Florence exercised what little Spanish she had command of, trying to get
+      the women to talk, Madeline looked about the miserable little rooms. And
+      there grew upon her a feeling of sickness, which increased as she passed
+      from one house to another. She had not believed such squalor could exist
+      anywhere in America. The huts reeked with filth; vermin crawled over the
+      dirt floors. There was absolutely no evidence of water, and she believed
+      what Florence told her—that these people never bathed. There was
+      little evidence of labor. Idle men and women smoking cigarettes lolled
+      about, some silent, others jabbering. They did not resent the visit of the
+      American women, nor did they show hospitality. They appeared stupid.
+      Disease was rampant in these houses; when the doors were shut there was no
+      ventilation, and even with the doors open Madeline felt choked and
+      stifled. A powerful penetrating odor pervaded the rooms that were less
+      stifling than others, and this odor Florence explained came from a liquor
+      the Mexicans distilled from a cactus plant. Here drunkenness was manifest,
+      a terrible inert drunkenness that made its victims deathlike.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline could not extend her visit to the little mission-house. She saw a
+      padre, a starved, sad-faced man who, she instinctively felt, was good. She
+      managed to mount her horse and ride up to the house; but, once there, she
+      weakened and Florence had almost to carry her in-doors. She fought off a
+      faintness, only to succumb to it when alone in her room. Still, she did
+      not entirely lose consciousness, and soon recovered to the extent that she
+      did not require assistance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the morning after the end of the round-up, when she went out on the
+      porch, her brother and Stillwell appeared to be arguing about the identity
+      of a horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I reckon it’s my old roan,” said Stillwell, shading his eyes with
+      his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, if that isn’t Stewart’s horse my eyes are going back on me,”
+       replied Al. “It’s not the color or shape—the distance is too far to
+      judge by that. It’s the motion—the swing.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Al, mebbe you’re right. But they ain’t no rider up on thet hoss. Flo,
+      fetch my glass.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence went into the house, while Madeline tried to discover the object
+      of attention. Presently far up the gray hollow along a foothill she saw
+      dust, and then the dark, moving figure of a horse. She was watching when
+      Florence returned with the glass. Bill took a long look, adjusted the
+      glasses carefully, and tried again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I hate to admit my eyes are gettin’ pore. But I guess I’ll hev to.
+      Thet’s Gene Stewart’s hoss, saddled, an’ comin’ at a fast clip without a
+      rider. It’s amazin’ strange, an’ some in keepin’ with other things
+      concernin’ Gene.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Give me the glass,” said Al. “Yes, I was right. Bill, the horse is not
+      frightened. He’s coming steadily; he’s got something on his mind.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thet’s a trained hoss, Al. He has more sense than some men I know. Take a
+      look with the glasses up the hollow. See anybody?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Swing up over the foothills—where the trail leads. Higher—along
+      thet ridge where the rocks begin. See anybody?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “By Jove! Bill—two horses! But I can’t make out much for dust. They
+      are climbing fast. One horse gone among the rocks. There—the other’s
+      gone. What do you make of that?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I can’t make no more ’n you. But I’ll bet we know somethin’ soon,
+      fer Gene’s hoss is comin’ faster as he nears the ranch.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The wide hollow sloping up into the foothills lay open to unobstructed
+      view, and less than half a mile distant Madeline saw the riderless horse
+      coming along the white trail at a rapid canter. She watched him, recalling
+      the circumstances under which she had first seen him, and then his wild
+      flight through the dimly lighted streets of El Cajon out into the black
+      night. She thrilled again and believed she would never think of that
+      starry night’s adventure without a thrill. She watched the horse and felt
+      more than curiosity. A shrill, piercing whistle pealed in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, he’s seen us, thet’s sure,” said Bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The horse neared the corrals, disappeared into a lane, and then, breaking
+      his gait again, thundered into the inclosure and pounded to a halt some
+      twenty yards from where Stillwell waited for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One look at him at close range in the clear light of day was enough for
+      Madeline to award him a blue ribbon over all horses, even her
+      prize-winner, White Stockings. The cowboy’s great steed was no lithe,
+      slender-bodied mustang. He was a charger, almost tremendous of build, with
+      a black coat faintly mottled in gray, and it shone like polished glass in
+      the sun. Evidently he had been carefully dressed down for this occasion,
+      for there was no dust on him, nor a kink in his beautiful mane, nor a mark
+      on his glossy hide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Come hyar, you son-of-a-gun,” said Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The horse dropped his head, snorted, and came obediently up. He was
+      neither shy nor wild. He poked a friendly nose at Stillwell, and then
+      looked at Al and the women. Unhooking the stirrups from the pommel,
+      Stillwell let them fall and began to search the saddle for something which
+      he evidently expected to find. Presently from somewhere among the
+      trappings he produced a folded bit of paper, and after scrutinizing it
+      handed it to Al.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Addressed to you; an’ I’ll bet you two bits I know what’s in it,” he
+      said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred unfolded the letter, read it, and then looked at Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, you’re a pretty good guesser. Gene’s made for the border. He sent
+      the horse by somebody, no names mentioned, and wants my sister to have him
+      if she will accept.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Any mention of Danny Mains?” asked the rancher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Not a word.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thet’s bad. Gene’d know about Danny if anybody did. But he’s a
+      close-mouthed cuss. So he’s sure hittin’ for Mexico. Wonder if Danny’s
+      goin’, too? Wal, there’s two of the best cowmen I ever seen gone to hell
+      an’ I’m sorry.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that he bowed his head and, grumbling to himself, went into the
+      house. Alfred lifted the reins over the head of the horse and, leading him
+      to Madeline, slipped the knot over her arm and placed the letter in her
+      hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty, I’d accept the horse,” he said. “Stewart is only a cowboy now,
+      and as tough as any I’ve known. But he comes of a good family. He was a
+      college man and a gentleman once. He went to the bad out here, like so
+      many fellows go, like I nearly did. Then he had told me about his sister
+      and mother. He cared a good deal for them. I think he has been a source of
+      unhappiness to them. It was mostly when he was reminded of this in some
+      way that he’d get drunk. I have always stuck to him, and I would do so yet
+      if I had the chance. You can see Bill is heartbroken about Danny Mains and
+      Stewart. I think he rather hoped to get good news. There’s not much chance
+      of them coming back now, at least not in the case of Stewart. This giving
+      up his horse means he’s going to join the rebel forces across the border.
+      What wouldn’t I give to see that cowboy break loose on a bunch of
+      Greasers! Oh, damn the luck! I beg your pardon, Majesty. But I’m upset,
+      too. I’m sorry about Stewart. I liked him pretty well before he thrashed
+      that coyote of a sheriff, Pat Hawe, and afterward I guess I liked him
+      more. You read the letter, sister, and accept the horse.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In silence Madeline bent her gaze from her brother’s face to the letter:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Friend Al,—I’m sending my horse down to you because I’m going away
+      and haven’t the nerve to take him where he’d get hurt or fall into strange
+      hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If you think it’s all right, why, give him to your sister with my
+      respects. But if you don’t like the idea, Al, or if she won’t have him,
+      then he’s for you. I’m not forgetting your kindness to me, even if I never
+      showed it. And, Al, my horse has never felt a quirt or a spur, and I’d
+      like to think you’d never hurt him. I’m hoping your sister will take him.
+      She’ll be good to him, and she can afford to take care of him. And, while
+      I’m waiting to be plugged by a Greaser bullet, if I happen to have a
+      picture in mind of how she’ll look upon my horse, why, man, it’s not going
+      to make any difference to you. She needn’t ever know it. Between you and
+      me, Al, don’t let her or Flo ride alone over Don Carlos’s way. If I had
+      time I could tell you something about that slick Greaser. And tell your
+      sister, if there’s ever any reason for her to run away from anybody when
+      she’s up on that roan, just let her lean over and yell in his ear. She’ll
+      find herself riding the wind. So long.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gene Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline thoughtfully folded the letter and murmured, “How he must love
+      his horse!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, I should say so,” replied Alfred. “Flo will tell you. She’s the
+      only person Gene ever let ride that horse, unless, as Bill thinks, the
+      little Mexican girl, Bonita, rode him out of El Cajon the other night.
+      Well, sister mine, how about it—will you accept the horse?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Assuredly. And very happy indeed am I to get him. Al, you said, I think,
+      that Mr. Stewart named him after me—saw my nickname in the New York
+      paper?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, I will not change his name. But, Al, how shall I ever climb up on
+      him? He’s taller than I am. What a giant of a horse! Oh, look at him—he’s
+      nosing my hand. I really believe he understood what I said. Al, did you
+      ever see such a splendid head and such beautiful eyes? They are so large
+      and dark and soft—and human. Oh, I am a fickle woman, for I am
+      forgetting White Stockings.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’ll gamble he’ll make you forget any other horse,” said Alfred. “You’ll
+      have to get on him from the porch.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As Madeline was not dressed for the saddle, she did not attempt to mount.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Come, Majesty—how strange that sounds!—we must get
+      acquainted. You have now a new owner, a very severe young woman who will
+      demand loyalty from you and obedience, and some day, after a decent
+      period, she will expect love.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline led the horse to and fro, and was delighted with his gentleness.
+      She discovered that he did not need to be led. He came at her call,
+      followed her like a pet dog, rubbed his black muzzle against her.
+      Sometimes, at the turns in their walk, he lifted his head and with ears
+      forward looked up the trail by which he had come, and beyond the
+      foothills. He was looking over the range. Some one was calling to him,
+      perhaps, from beyond the mountains. Madeline liked him the better for that
+      memory, and pitied the wayward cowboy who had parted with his only
+      possession for very love of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That afternoon when Alfred lifted Madeline to the back of the big roan she
+      felt high in the air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “We’ll have a run out to the mesa,” said her brother, as he mounted. “Keep
+      a tight rein on him and ease up when you want him to go faster. But don’t
+      yell in his ear unless you want Florence and me to see you disappear on
+      the horizon.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He trotted out of the yard, down by the corrals, to come out on the edge
+      of a gray, open flat that stretched several miles to the slope of a mesa.
+      Florence led, and Madeline saw that she rode like a cowboy. Alfred drew on
+      to her side, leaving Madeline in the rear. Then the leading horses broke
+      into a gallop. They wanted to run, and Madeline felt with a thrill that
+      she would hardly be able to keep Majesty from running, even if she wanted
+      to. He sawed on the tight bridle as the others drew away and broke from
+      pace to gallop. Then Florence put her horse into a run. Alfred turned and
+      called to Madeline to come along.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “This will never do. They are running away from us,” said Madeline, and
+      she eased up her hold on the bridle. Something happened beneath her just
+      then; she did not know at first exactly what. As much as she had been on
+      horseback she had never ridden at a running gait. In New York it was not
+      decorous or safe. So when Majesty lowered and stretched and changed the
+      stiff, jolting gallop for a wonderful, smooth, gliding run it required
+      Madeline some moments to realize what was happening. It did not take long
+      for her to see the distance diminishing between her and her companions.
+      Still they had gotten a goodly start and were far advanced. She felt the
+      steady, even rush of the wind. It amazed her to find how easily,
+      comfortably she kept to the saddle. The experience was new. The one fault
+      she had heretofore found with riding was the violent shaking-up. In this
+      instance she experienced nothing of that kind, no strain, no necessity to
+      hold on with a desperate awareness of work. She had never felt the wind in
+      her face, the whip of a horse’s mane, the buoyant, level spring of a
+      tanning gait. It thrilled her, exhilarated her, fired her blood. Suddenly
+      she found herself alive, throbbing; and, inspired by she knew not what,
+      she loosened the bridle and, leaning far forward, she cried, “Oh, you
+      splendid fellow, run!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She heard from under her a sudden quick clattering roar of hoofs, and she
+      swayed back with the wonderfully swift increase in Majesty’s speed. The
+      wind stung her face, howled in her ears, tore at her hair. The gray plain
+      swept by on each side, and in front seemed to be waving toward her. In her
+      blurred sight Florence and Alfred appeared to be coming back. But she saw
+      presently, upon nearer view, that Majesty was overhauling the other
+      horses, was going to pass them. Indeed, he did pass them, shooting by so
+      as almost to make them appear standing still. And he ran on, not breaking
+      his gait till he reached the steep side of the mesa, where he slowed down
+      and stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Glorious!” exclaimed Madeline. She was all in a blaze, and every muscle
+      and nerve of her body tingled and quivered. Her hands, as she endeavored
+      to put up the loosened strands of hair, trembled and failed of their
+      accustomed dexterity. Then she faced about and waited for her companions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred reached her first, laughing, delighted, yet also a little anxious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Holy smoke! But can’t he run? Did he bolt on you?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No, I called in his ear,” replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “So that was it. That’s the woman of you, and forbidden fruit. Flo said
+      she’d do it the minute she was on him. Majesty, you can ride. See if Flo
+      doesn’t say so.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Western girl came up then with her pleasure bright in her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It was just great to see you. How your hair burned in the wind! Al, she
+      sure can ride. Oh, I’m so glad! I was a little afraid. And that horse!
+      Isn’t he grand? Can’t he run?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred led the way up the steep, zigzag trail to the top of the mesa.
+      Madeline saw a beautiful flat surface of short grass, level as a floor.
+      She uttered a little cry of wonder and enthusiasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Al, what a place for golf! This would be the finest links in the world.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, I’ve thought of that myself,” he replied. “The only trouble would
+      be—could anybody stop looking at the scenery long enough to hit a
+      ball? Majesty, look!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then it seemed that Madeline was confronted by a spectacle too sublime
+      and terrible for her gaze. The immensity of this red-ridged, deep-gulfed
+      world descending incalculable distances refused to be grasped, and awed
+      her, shocked her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Once, Majesty, when I first came out West, I was down and out—determined
+      to end it all,” said Alfred. “And happened to climb up here looking for a
+      lonely place to die. When I saw that I changed my mind.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was silent. She remained so during the ride around the rim of the
+      mesa and down the steep trail. This time Alfred and Florence failed to
+      tempt her into a race. She had been awe-struck; she had been exalted she
+      had been confounded; and she recovered slowly without divining exactly
+      what had come to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She reached the ranch-house far behind her companions, and at supper-time
+      was unusually thoughtful. Later, when they assembled on the porch to watch
+      the sunset, Stillwell’s humorous complainings inspired the inception of an
+      idea which flashed up in her mind swift as lightning. And then by
+      listening sympathetically she encouraged him to recite the troubles of a
+      poor cattleman. They were many and long and interesting, and rather
+      numbing to the life of her inspired idea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mr. Stillwell, could ranching here on a large scale, with up-to-date
+      methods, be made—well, not profitable, exactly, but to pay—to
+      run without loss?” she asked, determined to kill her new-born idea at
+      birth or else give it breath and hope of life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I reckon it could,” he replied, with a short laugh. “It’d sure be a
+      money-maker. Why, with all my bad luck an’ poor equipment I’ve lived
+      pretty well an’ paid my debts an’ haven’t really lost any money except the
+      original outlay. I reckon thet’s sunk fer good.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Would you sell—if some one would pay your price?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, I’d jump at the chance. Yet somehow I’d hate to leave hyar.
+      I’d jest be fool enough to go sink the money in another ranch.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Would Don Carlos and these other Mexicans sell?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “They sure would. The Don has been after me fer years, wantin’ to sell
+      thet old rancho of his; an’ these herders in the valley with their stray
+      cattle, they’d fall daid at sight of a little money.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Please tell me, Mr. Stillwell, exactly what you would do here if you had
+      unlimited means?” went on Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Good Lud!” ejaculated the rancher, and started so he dropped his pipe.
+      Then with his clumsy huge fingers he refilled it, relighted it, took a few
+      long pulls, puffed great clouds of smoke, and, squaring round, hands on
+      his knees, he looked at Madeline with piercing intentness. His hard face
+      began to relax and soften and wrinkle into a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Miss Majesty, it jest makes my old heart warm up to think of sich a
+      thing. I dreamed a lot when I first come hyar. What would I do if I hed
+      unlimited money? Listen. I’d buy out Don Carlos an’ the Greasers. I’d give
+      a job to every good cowman in this country. I’d make them prosper as I
+      prospered myself. I’d buy all the good horses on the ranges. I’d fence
+      twenty thousand acres of the best grazin’. I’d drill fer water in the
+      valley. I’d pipe water down from the mountains. I’d dam up that draw out
+      there. A mile-long dam from hill to hill would give me a big lake, an’
+      hevin’ an eye fer beauty, I’d plant cottonwoods around it. I’d fill that
+      lake full of fish. I’d put in the biggest field of alfalfa in the
+      Southwest. I’d plant fruit-trees an’ garden. I’d tear down them old
+      corrals an’ barns an’ bunk-houses to build new ones. I’d make this old
+      rancho some comfortable an’ fine. I’d put in grass an’ flowers all around
+      an’ bring young pine-trees down from the mountains. An’ when all thet was
+      done I’d sit in my chair an’ smoke an’ watch the cattle stringin’ in fer
+      water an’ stragglin’ back into the valley. An’ I see the cowboys ridin’
+      easy an’ heah them singin’ in their bunks. An’ thet red sun out there
+      wouldn’t set on a happier man in the world than Bill Stillwell, last of
+      the old cattlemen.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline thanked the rancher, and then rather abruptly retired to her
+      room, where she felt no restraint to hide the force of that wonderful
+      idea, now full-grown and tenacious and alluring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the next day, late in the afternoon, she asked Alfred if it would be
+      safe for her to ride out to the mesa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’ll go with you,” he said, gaily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Dear fellow, I want to go alone,” she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ah!” Alfred exclaimed, suddenly serious. He gave her just a quick glance,
+      then turned away. “Go ahead. I think it’s safe. I’ll make it safe by
+      sitting here with my glass and keeping an eye on you. Be careful coming
+      down the trail. Let the horse pick his way. That’s all.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She rode Majesty across the wide flat, up the zigzag trail, across the
+      beautiful grassy level to the far rim of the mesa, and not till then did
+      she lift her eyes to face the southwest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline looked from the gray valley at her feet to the blue Sierra
+      Madres, gold-tipped in the setting sun. Her vision embraced in that glance
+      distance and depth and glory hitherto unrevealed to her. The gray valley
+      sloped and widened to the black sentinel Chiricahuas, and beyond was lost
+      in a vast corrugated sweep of earth, reddening down to the west, where a
+      golden blaze lifted the dark, rugged mountains into bold relief. The scene
+      had infinite beauty. But after Madeline’s first swift, all-embracing flash
+      of enraptured eyes, thought of beauty passed away. In that darkening
+      desert there was something illimitable. Madeline saw the hollow of a
+      stupendous hand; she felt a mighty hold upon her heart. Out of the endless
+      space, out of silence and desolation and mystery and age, came
+      slow-changing colored shadows, phantoms of peace, and they whispered to
+      Madeline. They whispered that it was a great, grim, immutable earth; that
+      time was eternity; that life was fleeting. They whispered for her to be a
+      woman; to love some one before it was too late; to love any one, every
+      one; to realize the need of work, and in doing it to find happiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She rode back across the mesa and down the trail, and, once more upon the
+      flat, she called to the horse and made him run. His spirit seemed to race
+      with hers. The wind of his speed blew her hair from its fastenings. When
+      he thundered to a halt at the porch steps Madeline, breathless and
+      disheveled, alighted with the mass of her hair tumbling around her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred met her, and his exclamation, and Florence’s rapt eyes shining on
+      her face, and Stillwell’s speechlessness made her self-conscious.
+      Laughing, she tried to put up the mass of hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I must—look a—fright,” she panted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, you can say what you like,” replied the old cattleman, “but I know
+      what I think.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline strove to attain calmness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “My hat—and my combs—went on the wind. I thought my hair would
+      go, too.... There is the evening star.... I think I am very hungry.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then she gave up trying to be calm, and likewise to fasten up her
+      hair, which fell again in a golden mass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mr. Stillwell,” she began, and paused, strangely aware of a hurried note,
+      a deeper ring in her voice. “Mr. Stillwell, I want to buy your ranch—to
+      engage you as my superintendent. I want to buy Don Carlos’s ranch and
+      other property to the extent, say, of fifty thousand acres. I want you to
+      buy horses and cattle—in short, to make all those improvements which
+      you said you had so long dreamed of. Then I have ideas of my own, in the
+      development of which I must have your advice and Alfred’s. I intend to
+      better the condition of those poor Mexicans in the valley. I intend to
+      make life a little more worth living for them and for the cowboys of this
+      range. To-morrow we shall talk it all over, plan all the business
+      details.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline turned from the huge, ever-widening smile that beamed down upon
+      her and held out her hands to her brother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Alfred, strange, is it not, my coming out to you? Nay, don’t smile. I
+      hope I have found myself—my work—my happiness—here under
+      the light of that western star.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      VII. Her Majesty’s Rancho
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      FIVE months brought all that Stillwell had dreamed of, and so many more
+      changes and improvements and innovations that it was as if a magic touch
+      had transformed the old ranch. Madeline and Alfred and Florence had talked
+      over a fitting name, and had decided on one chosen by Madeline. But this
+      instance was the only one in the course of developments in which
+      Madeline’s wishes were not compiled with. The cowboys named the new ranch
+      “Her Majesty’s Rancho.” Stillwell said the names cowboys bestowed were
+      felicitous, and as unchangeable as the everlasting hills; Florence went
+      over to the enemy; and Alfred, laughing at Madeline’s protest, declared
+      the cowboys had elected her queen of the ranges, and that there was no
+      help for it. So the name stood “Her Majesty’s Rancho.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The April sun shone down upon a slow-rising green knoll that nestled in
+      the lee of the foothills, and seemed to center bright rays upon the long
+      ranch-house, which gleamed snow-white from the level summit. The grounds
+      around the house bore no semblance to Eastern lawns or parks; there had
+      been no landscape-gardening; Stillwell had just brought water and grass
+      and flowers and plants to the knoll-top, and there had left them, as it
+      were, to follow nature. His idea may have been crude, but the result was
+      beautiful. Under that hot sun and balmy air, with cool water daily soaking
+      into the rich soil, a green covering sprang into life, and everywhere upon
+      it, as if by magic, many colored flowers rose in the sweet air. Pale wild
+      flowers, lavender daisies, fragile bluebells, white four-petaled lilies
+      like Eastern mayflowers, and golden poppies, deep sunset gold, color of
+      the West, bloomed in happy confusion. California roses, crimson as blood,
+      nodded heavy heads and trembled with the weight of bees. Low down in bare
+      places, isolated, open to the full power of the sun, blazed the vermilion
+      and magenta blossoms of cactus plants.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Green slopes led all the way down to where new adobe barns and sheds had
+      been erected, and wide corrals stretched high-barred fences down to the
+      great squares of alfalfa gently inclining to the gray of the valley. The
+      bottom of a dammed-up hollow shone brightly with its slowly increasing
+      acreage of water, upon which thousands of migratory wildfowl whirred and
+      splashed and squawked, as if reluctant to leave this cool, wet surprise so
+      new in the long desert journey to the northland. Quarters for the cowboys—comfortable,
+      roomy adobe houses that not even the lamest cowboy dared describe as
+      crampy bunks—stood in a row upon a long bench of ground above the
+      lake. And down to the edge of the valley the cluster of Mexican
+      habitations and the little church showed the touch of the same renewing
+      hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All that had been left of the old Spanish house which had been Stillwell’s
+      home for so long was the bare, massive structure, and some of this had
+      been cut away for new doors and windows. Every modern convenience, even to
+      hot and cold running water and acetylene light, had been installed; and
+      the whole interior painted and carpentered and furnished. The ideal sought
+      had not been luxury, but comfort. Every door into the patio looked out
+      upon dark, rich grass and sweet-faced flowers, and every window looked
+      down the green slopes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s rooms occupied the west end of the building and comprised four
+      in number, all opening out upon the long porch. There was a small room for
+      her maid, another which she used as an office, then her
+      sleeping-apartment; and, lastly, the great light chamber which she had
+      liked so well upon first sight, and which now, simply yet beautifully
+      furnished and containing her favorite books and pictures, she had come to
+      love as she had never loved any room at home. In the morning the fragrant,
+      balmy air blew the white curtains of the open windows; at noon the drowsy,
+      sultry quiet seemed to creep in for the siesta that was characteristic of
+      the country; in the afternoon the westering sun peeped under the porch
+      roof and painted the walls with gold bars that slowly changed to red.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline Hammond cherished a fancy that the transformation she had wrought
+      in the old Spanish house and in the people with whom she had surrounded
+      herself, great as that transformation had been, was as nothing compared to
+      the one wrought in herself. She had found an object in life. She was busy,
+      she worked with her hands as well as mind, yet she seemed to have more
+      time to read and think and study and idle and dream than ever before. She
+      had seen her brother through his difficulties, on the road to all the
+      success and prosperity that he cared for. Madeline had been a
+      conscientious student of ranching and an apt pupil of Stillwell. The old
+      cattleman, in his simplicity, gave her the place in his heart that was
+      meant for the daughter he had never had. His pride in her, Madeline
+      thought, was beyond reason or belief or words to tell. Under his guidance,
+      sometimes accompanied by Alfred and Florence, Madeline had ridden the
+      ranges and had studied the life and work of the cowboys. She had camped on
+      the open range, slept under the blinking stars, ridden forty miles a day
+      in the face of dust and wind. She had taken two wonderful trips down into
+      the desert—one trip to Chiricahua, and from there across the waste
+      of sand and rock and alkali and cactus to the Mexican borderline; and the
+      other through the Aravaipa Valley, with its deep, red-walled canyons and
+      wild fastnesses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This breaking-in, this training into Western ways, though she had been a
+      so-called outdoor girl, had required great effort and severe pain; but the
+      education, now past its grades, had become a labor of love. She had
+      perfect health, abounding spirits. She was so active hat she had to train
+      herself into taking the midday siesta, a custom of the country and
+      imperative during the hot summer months. Sometimes she looked in her
+      mirror and laughed with sheer joy at sight of the lithe, audacious,
+      brown-faced, flashing-eyed creature reflected there. It was not so much
+      joy in her beauty as sheer joy of life. Eastern critics had been wont to
+      call her beautiful in those days when she had been pale and slender and
+      proud and cold. She laughed. If they could only see her now! From the tip
+      of her golden head to her feet she was alive, pulsating, on fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sometimes she thought of her parents, sister, friends, of how they had
+      persistently refused to believe she could or would stay in the West. They
+      were always asking her to come home. And when she wrote, which was
+      dutifully often, the last thing under the sun that she was likely to
+      mention was the change in her. She wrote that she would return to her old
+      home some time, of course, for a visit; and letters such as this brought
+      returns that amused Madeline, sometimes saddened her. She meant to go back
+      East for a while, and after that once or twice every year. But the
+      initiative was a difficult step from which she shrank. Once home, she
+      would have to make explanations, and these would not be understood. Her
+      father’s business had been such that he could not leave it for the time
+      required for a Western trip, or else, according to his letter, he would
+      have come for her. Mrs. Hammond could not have been driven to cross the
+      Hudson River; her un-American idea of the wilderness westward was that
+      Indians still chased buffalo on the outskirts of Chicago. Madeline’s
+      sister Helen had long been eager to come, as much from curiosity, Madeline
+      thought, as from sisterly regard. And at length Madeline concluded that
+      the proof of her breaking permanent ties might better be seen by visiting
+      relatives and friends before she went back East. With that in mind she
+      invited Helen to visit her during the summer, and bring as many friends as
+      she liked.
+    </p>
+<div class='pre'>
+    *       *       *
+</div>
+    <p>
+      No slight task indeed was it to oversee the many business details of Her
+      Majesty’s Rancho and to keep a record of them. Madeline found the course
+      of business training upon which her father had insisted to be invaluable
+      to her now. It helped her to assimilate and arrange the practical details
+      of cattle-raising as put forth by the blunt Stillwell. She split up the
+      great stock of cattle into different herds, and when any of these were out
+      running upon the open range she had them closely watched. Part of the time
+      each herd was kept in an inclosed range, fed and watered, and carefully
+      handled by a big force of cowboys. She employed three cowboy scouts whose
+      sole duty was to ride the ranges searching for stray, sick, or crippled
+      cattle or motherless calves, and to bring these in to be treated and
+      nursed. There were two cowboys whose business was to master a pack of
+      Russian stag-hounds and to hunt down the coyotes, wolves, and lions that
+      preyed upon the herds. The better and tamer milch cows were separated from
+      the ranging herds and kept in a pasture adjoining the dairy. All branding
+      was done in corrals, and calves were weaned from mother-cows at the proper
+      time to benefit both. The old method of branding and classing, that had so
+      shocked Madeline, had been abandoned, and one had been inaugurated whereby
+      cattle and cowboys and horses were spared brutality and injury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline established an extensive vegetable farm, and she planted
+      orchards. The climate was superior to that of California, and, with
+      abundant water, trees and plants and gardens flourished and bloomed in a
+      way wonderful to behold. It was with ever-increasing pleasure that
+      Madeline walked through acres of ground once bare, now green and bright
+      and fragrant. There were poultry-yards and pig-pens and marshy quarters
+      for ducks and geese. Here in the farming section of the ranch Madeline
+      found employment for the little colony of Mexicans. Their lives had been
+      as hard and barren as the dry valley where they had lived. But as the
+      valley had been transformed by the soft, rich touch of water, so their
+      lives had been transformed by help and sympathy and work. The children
+      were wretched no more, and many that had been blind could now see, and
+      Madeline had become to them a new and blessed virgin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline looked abroad over these lands and likened the change in them and
+      those who lived by them to the change in her heart. It may have been
+      fancy, but the sun seemed to be brighter, the sky bluer, the wind sweeter.
+      Certain it was that the deep green of grass and garden was not fancy, nor
+      the white and pink of blossom, nor the blaze and perfume of flower, nor
+      the sheen of lake and the fluttering of new-born leaves. Where there had
+      been monotonous gray there was now vivid and changing color. Formerly
+      there had been silence both day and night; now during the sunny hours
+      there was music. The whistle of prancing stallions pealed in from the
+      grassy ridges. Innumerable birds had come and, like the
+      northward-journeying ducks, they had tarried to stay. The song of
+      meadow-lark and blackbird and robin, familiar to Madeline from childhood,
+      mingled with the new and strange heart-throbbing song of mocking-bird and
+      the piercing blast of the desert eagle and the melancholy moan of
+      turtle-dove.
+    </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      One April morning Madeline sat in her office wrestling with a problem. She
+      had problems to solve every day. The majority of these were concerned with
+      the management of twenty-seven incomprehensible cowboys. This particular
+      problem involved Ambrose Mills, who had eloped with her French maid,
+      Christine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell faced Madeline with a smile almost as huge as his bulk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Miss Majesty, we ketched them; but not before Padre Marcos had
+      married them. All thet speedin’ in the autoomoobile was jest a-scarin’ of
+      me to death fer nothin’. I tell you Link Stevens is crazy about runnin’
+      thet car. Link never hed no sense even with a hoss. He ain’t afraid of the
+      devil hisself. If my hair hedn’t been white it ’d be white now. No more
+      rides in thet thing fer me! Wal, we ketched Ambrose an’ the girl too late.
+      But we fetched them back, an’ they’re out there now, spoonin’, sure
+      oblivious to their shameless conduct.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stillwell, what shall I say to Ambrose? How shall I punish him? He has
+      done wrong to deceive me. I never was so surprised in my life. Christine
+      did not seem to care any more for Ambrose than for any of the other
+      cowboys. What does my authority amount to? I must do something. Stillwell,
+      you must help me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whenever Madeline fell into a quandary she had to call upon the old
+      cattleman. No man ever held a position with greater pride than Stillwell,
+      but he had been put to tests that steeped him in humility. Here he
+      scratched his head in great perplexity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Dog-gone the luck! What’s this elopin’ bizness to do with cattle-raisin’?
+      I don’t know nothin’ but cattle. Miss Majesty, it’s amazin’ strange what
+      these cowboys hev come to. I never seen no cowboys like these we’ve got
+      hyar now. I don’t know them any more. They dress swell an’ read books, an’
+      some of them hev actooly stopped cussin’ an’ drinkin’. I ain’t sayin’ all
+      this is against them. Why, now, they’re jest the finest bunch of
+      cow-punchers I ever seen or dreamed of. But managin’ them now is beyond
+      me. When cowboys begin to play thet game gol-lof an’ run off with French
+      maids I reckon Bill Stillwell has got to resign.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stillwell! Oh, you will not leave me? What in the world would I do?”
+       exclaimed Madeline, in great anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I sure won’t leave you, Miss Majesty. No, I never’ll do thet. I’ll
+      run the cattle bizness fer you an’ see after the hosses an’ other stock.
+      But I’ve got to hev a foreman who can handle this amazin’ strange bunch of
+      cowboys.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You’ve tried half a dozen foremen. Try more until you find the man who
+      meets your requirements,” said Madeline. “Never mind that now. Tell me how
+      to impress Ambrose—to make him an example, so to speak. I must have
+      another maid. And I do not want a new one carried off in this summary
+      manner.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, if you fetch pretty maids out hyar you can’t expect nothin’ else.
+      Why, thet black-eyed little French girl, with her white skin an’ pretty
+      airs an’ smiles an’ shrugs, she had the cowboys crazy. It’ll be wuss with
+      the next one.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh dear!” sighed Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “An’ as fer impressin’ Ambrose, I reckon I can tell you how to do thet.
+      Jest give it to him good an’ say you’re goin’ to fire him. That’ll fix
+      Ambrose, an’ mebbe scare the other boys fer a spell.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Very well, Stillwell, bring Ambrose in to see me, and tell Christine to
+      wait in my room.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a handsome debonair, bright-eyed cowboy that came tramping into
+      Madeline’s presence. His accustomed shyness and awkwardness had
+      disappeared in an excited manner. He was a happy boy. He looked straight
+      into Madeline’s face as if he expected her to wish him joy. And Madeline
+      actually found that expression trembling to her lips. She held it back
+      until she could be severe. But Madeline feared she would fail of much
+      severity. Something warm and sweet, like a fragrance, had entered the room
+      with Ambrose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ambrose, what have you done?” she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, I’ve been and gone and got married,” replied Ambrose, his
+      words tumbling over one another. His eyes snapped, and there was a kind of
+      glow upon his clean-shaven brown cheek. “I’ve stole a march on the other
+      boys. There was Frank Slade pushin’ me close, and I was havin’ some
+      runnin’ to keep Jim Bell back in my dust. Even old man Nels made eyes at
+      Christine! So I wasn’t goin’ to take any chances. I just packed her off to
+      El Cajon and married her.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, so I heard,” said Madeline, slowly, as she watched him. “Ambrose, do
+      you—love her?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He reddened under her clear gaze, dropped his head, and fumbled with his
+      new sombrero, and there was a catch in his breath. Madeline saw his
+      powerful brown hand tremble. It affected her strangely that this stalwart
+      cowboy, who could rope and throw and tie a wild steer in less than one
+      minute, should tremble at a mere question. Suddenly he raised his head,
+      and at the beautiful blase of his eyes Madeline turned her own away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, Miss Hammond, I love her,” he said. “I think I love her in the way
+      you’re askin’ about. I know the first time I saw her I thought how
+      wonderful it’d be to have a girl like that for my wife. It’s all been so
+      strange—her comin’ an’ how she made me feel. Sure I never knew many
+      girls, and I haven’t seen any girls at all for years. But when she came! A
+      girl makes a wonderful difference in a man’s feelin’s and thoughts. I
+      guess I never had any before. Leastways, none like I have now. My—it—well,
+      I guess I have a little understandin’ now of Padre Marcos’s blessin’.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ambrose, have you nothing to say to me?” asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m sure sorry I didn’t have time to tell you. But I was in some hurry.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “What did you intend to do? Where were you going when Stillwell found
+      you?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “We’d just been married. I hadn’t thought of anything after that. Suppose
+      I’d have rustled back to my job. I’ll sure have to work now and save my
+      money.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, well, Ambrose, I am glad you realize your responsibilities. Do you
+      earn enough—is your pay sufficient to keep a wife?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sure it is! Why, Miss Hammond, I never before earned half the salary I’m
+      gettin’ now. It’s some fine to work for you. I’m goin’ to fire the boys
+      out of my bunk-house and fix it up for Christine and me. Say, won’t they
+      be jealous?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ambrose, I—I congratulate you. I wish you joy,” said Madeline. “I—I
+      shall make Christine a little wedding-present. I want to talk to her for a
+      few moments. You may go now.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It would have been impossible for Madeline to say one severe word to that
+      happy cowboy. She experienced difficulty in hiding her own happiness at
+      the turn of events. Curiosity and interest mingled with her pleasure when
+      she called to Christine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mrs. Ambrose Mills, please come in.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No sound came from the other room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I should like very much to see the bride,” went on Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still there was no stir or reply
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Christine!” called Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then it was as if a little whirlwind of flying feet and entreating hands
+      and beseeching eyes blew in upon Madeline. Christine was small, graceful,
+      plump, with very white skin and very dark hair. She had been Madeline’s
+      favorite maid for years and there was sincere affection between the two.
+      Whatever had been the blissful ignorance of Ambrose, it was manifestly
+      certain that Christine knew how she had transgressed. Her fear and remorse
+      and appeal for forgiveness were poured out in an incoherent storm. Plain
+      it was that the little French maid had been overwhelmed. It was only after
+      Madeline had taken the emotional girl in her arms and had forgiven and
+      soothed her that her part in the elopement became clear. Christine was in
+      a maze. But gradually, as she talked and saw that she was forgiven,
+      calmness came in some degree, and with it a story which amused yet shocked
+      Madeline. The unmistakable, shy, marveling love, scarcely realized by
+      Christine, gave Madeline relief and joy. If Christine loved Ambrose there
+      was no harm done. Watching the girl’s eyes, wonderful with their changes
+      of thought, listening to her attempts to explain what it was evident she
+      did not understand, Madeline gathered that if ever a caveman had taken
+      unto himself a wife, if ever a barbarian had carried off a Sabine woman,
+      then Ambrose Mills had acted with the violence of such ancient forebears.
+      Just how it all happened seemed to be beyond Christine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “He say he love me,” repeated the girl, in a kind of rapt awe. “He ask me
+      to marry him—he kees me—he hug me—he lift me on ze horse—he
+      ride with me all night—he marry me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And she exhibited a ring on the third finger of her left hand. Madeline
+      saw that, whatever had been the state of Christine’s feeling for Ambrose
+      before this marriage, she loved him now. She had been taken forcibly, but
+      she was won.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After Christine had gone, comforted and betraying her shy eagerness to get
+      back to Ambrose, Madeline was haunted by the look in the girl’s eyes, and
+      her words. Assuredly the spell of romance was on this sunny land. For
+      Madeline there was a nameless charm, a nameless thrill combating her sense
+      of the violence and unfitness of Ambrose’s wooing. Something, she knew not
+      what, took arms against her intellectual arraignment of the cowboy’s
+      method of getting himself a wife. He had said straight out that he loved
+      the girl—he had asked her to marry him—he kissed her—he
+      hugged her—he lifted her upon his horse—he rode away with her
+      through the night—and he married her. In whatever light Madeline
+      reviewed this thing she always came back to her first natural impression;
+      it thrilled her, charmed her. It went against all the precepts of her
+      training; nevertheless, it was somehow splendid and beautiful. She
+      imagined it stripped another artificial scale from her over-sophisticated
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Scarcely had she settled again to the task on her desk when Stillwell’s
+      heavy tread across the porch interrupted her. This time when he entered he
+      wore a look that bordered upon the hysterical; it was difficult to tell
+      whether he was trying to suppress grief or glee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, there’s another amazin’ strange thing sprung on me. Hyars
+      Jim Bell come to see you, an’, when I taxed him, sayin’ you was tolerable
+      busy, he up an’ says he was hungry an’ he ain’t a-goin’ to eat any more
+      bread made in a wash-basin! Says he’ll starve first. Says Nels hed the
+      gang over to big bunk an’ feasted them on bread you taught him how to make
+      in some new-fangled bucket-machine with a crank. Jim says thet bread beat
+      any cake he ever eat, an’ he wants you to show him how to make some. Now,
+      Miss Majesty, as superintendent of this ranch I ought to know what’s goin’
+      on. Mebbe Jim is jest a-joshin’ me. Mebbe he’s gone clean dotty. Mebbe I
+      hev. An’ beggin’ your pardon, I want to know if there’s any truth in what
+      Jim says Nels says.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whereupon it became necessary for Madeline to stifle her mirth and to
+      inform the sadly perplexed old cattleman that she had received from the
+      East a patent bread-mixer, and in view of the fact that her household
+      women had taken fright at the contrivance, she had essayed to operate it
+      herself. This had turned out to be so simple, so saving of time and energy
+      and flour, so much more cleanly than the old method of mixing dough with
+      the hands, and particularly it had resulted in such good bread, that
+      Madeline had been pleased. Immediately she ordered more of the
+      bread-mixers. One day she had happened upon Nels making biscuit dough in
+      his wash-basin, and she had delicately and considerately introduced to him
+      the idea of her new method. Nels, it appeared, had a great reputation as a
+      bread-maker, and he was proud of it. Moreover, he was skeptical of any
+      clap-trap thing with wheels and cranks. He consented, however, to let her
+      show how the thing worked and to sample some of the bread. To that end she
+      had him come up to the house, where she won him over. Stillwell laughed
+      loud and long.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, wal, wal!” he exclaimed, at length. “Thet’s fine, an’ it’s powerful
+      funny. Mebbe you don’t see how funny? Wal, Nels has jest been lordin’ it
+      over the boys about how you showed him, an’ now you’ll hev to show every
+      last cowboy on the place the same thing. Cowboys are the jealousest kind
+      of fellers. They’re all crazy about you, anyway. Take Jim out hyar. Why,
+      thet lazy cowpuncher jest never would make bread. He’s notorious fer
+      shirkin’ his share of the grub deal. I’ve knowed Jim to trade off washin’
+      the pots an’ pans fer a lonely watch on a rainy night. All he wants is to
+      see you show him the same as Nels is crowin’ over. Then he’ll crow over
+      his bunkie, Frank Slade, an’ then Frank’ll get lonely to know all about
+      this wonderful bread-machine. Cowboys are amazin’ strange critters, Miss
+      Majesty. An’ now thet you’ve begun with them this way, you’ll hev to keep
+      it up. I will say I never seen such a bunch to work. You’ve sure put heart
+      in them.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Indeed, Stillwell, I am glad to hear that,” replied Madeline. “And I
+      shall be pleased to teach them all. But may I not have them all up here at
+      once—at least those off duty?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I reckon you can’t onless you want to hev them scrappin’,” rejoined
+      Stillwell, dryly. “What you’ve got on your hands now, Miss Majesty, is to
+      let ’em come one by one, an’ make each cowboy think you’re takin’ more
+      especial pleasure in showin’ him than the feller who came before him. Then
+      mebbe we can go on with cattle-raisin’.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline protested, and Stillwell held inexorably to what he said was
+      wisdom. Several times Madeline had gone against his advice, to her utter
+      discomfiture and rout. She dared not risk it again, and resigned herself
+      gracefully and with subdued merriment to her task. Jim Bell was ushered
+      into the great, light, spotless kitchen, where presently Madeline appeared
+      to put on an apron and roll up her sleeves. She explained the use of the
+      several pieces of aluminum that made up the bread-mixer and fastened the
+      bucket to the table-shelf. Jim’s life might have depended upon this
+      lesson, judging from his absorbed manner and his desire to have things
+      explained over and over, especially the turning of the crank. When
+      Madeline had to take Jim’s hand three times to show him the simple
+      mechanism and then he did not understand she began to have faint
+      misgivings as to his absolute sincerity. She guessed that as long as she
+      touched Jim’s hand he never would understand. Then as she began to measure
+      out flour and milk and lard and salt and yeast she saw with despair that
+      Jim was not looking at the ingredients, was not paying the slightest
+      attention to them. His eyes were covertly upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Jim, I am not sure about you,” said Madeline, severely. “How can you
+      learn to make bread if you do not watch me mix it?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am a-watchin’ you,” replied Jim, innocently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Finally Madeline sent the cowboy on his way rejoicing with the bread-mixer
+      under his arm. Next morning, true to Stillwell’s prophecy, Frank Slade,
+      Jim’s bunkmate, presented himself cheerfully to Madeline and unbosomed
+      himself of a long-deferred and persistent desire to relieve his overworked
+      comrade of some of the house-keeping in their bunk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond,” said Frank, “Jim’s orful kind wantin’ to do it all
+      hisself. But he ain’t very bright, an’ I didn’t believe him. You see, I’m
+      from Missouri, an’ you’ll have to show me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a whole week Madeline held clinics where she expounded the scientific
+      method of modern bread-making. She got a good deal of enjoyment out of her
+      lectures. What boys these great hulking fellows were! She saw through
+      their simple ruses. Some of them were grave as deacons; others wore
+      expressions important enough to have fitted the faces of statesmen signing
+      government treaties. These cowboys were children; they needed to be
+      governed; but in order to govern them they had to be humored. A more
+      light-hearted, fun-loving crowd of boys could not have been found. And
+      they were grown men. Stillwell explained that the exuberance of spirits
+      lay in the difference in their fortunes. Twenty-seven cowboys, in relays
+      of nine, worked eight hours a day. That had never been heard of before in
+      the West. Stillwell declared that cowboys from all points of the compass
+      would head their horses toward Her Majesty’s Rancho.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      VIII. El Capitan
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell’s interest in the revolution across the Mexican line had
+      manifestly increased with the news that Gene Stewart had achieved
+      distinction with the rebel forces. Thereafter the old cattleman sent for
+      El Paso and Douglas newspapers, wrote to ranchmen he knew on the big bend
+      of the Rio Grande, and he would talk indefinitely to any one who would
+      listen to him. There was not any possibility of Stillwell’s friends at the
+      ranch forgetting his favorite cowboy. Stillwell always prefaced his eulogy
+      with an apologetic statement that Stewart had gone to the bad. Madeline
+      liked to listen to him, though she was not always sure which news was
+      authentic and which imagination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There appeared to be no doubt, however, that the cowboy had performed some
+      daring feats for the rebels. Madeline found his name mentioned in several
+      of the border papers. When the rebels under Madero stormed and captured
+      the city of Juarez, Stewart did fighting that won him the name of El
+      Capitan. This battle apparently ended the revolution. The capitulation of
+      President Diaz followed shortly, and there was a feeling of relief among
+      ranchers on the border from Texas to California. Nothing more was heard of
+      Gene Stewart until April, when a report reached Stillwell that the cowboy
+      had arrived in El Cajon, evidently hunting trouble. The old cattleman
+      saddled a horse and started post-haste for town. In two days he returned,
+      depressed in spirit. Madeline happened to be present when Stillwell talked
+      to Alfred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I got there too late, Al,” said the cattleman. “Gene was gone. An’ what
+      do you think of this? Danny Mains hed jest left with a couple of burros
+      packed. I couldn’t find what way he went, but I’m bettin’ he hit the
+      Peloncillo trail.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Danny will show up some day,” replied Alfred. “What did you learn about
+      Stewart? Maybe he left with Danny.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Not much,” said Stillwell, shortly. “Gene’s hell-bent fer election! No
+      mountains fer him.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well tell us about him.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell wiped his sweaty brow and squared himself to talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, it’s sure amazin’ strange about Gene. Its got me locoed. He arrived
+      in El Cajon a week or so ago. He was trained down like as if he’d been
+      ridin’ the range all winter. He hed plenty of money—Mex, they said.
+      An’ all the Greasers was crazy about him. Called him El Capitan. He got
+      drunk an’ went roarin’ round fer Pat Hawe. You remember that Greaser who
+      was plugged last October—the night Miss Majesty arrived? Wal, he’s
+      daid. He’s daid, an’ people says thet Pat is a-goin’ to lay thet killin’
+      onto Gene. I reckon thet’s jest talk, though Pat is mean enough to do it,
+      if he hed the nerve. Anyway, if he was in El Cajon he kept mighty much to
+      hisself. Gene walked up an’ down, up an’ down, all day an’ night, lookin’
+      fer Pat. But he didn’t find him. An’, of course, he kept gettin’ drunker.
+      He jest got plumb bad. He made lots of trouble, but there wasn’t no
+      gun-play. Mebbe thet made him sore, so he went an’ licked Flo’s
+      brother-in-law. Thet wasn’t so bad. Jack sure needed a good lickin’. Wal,
+      then Gene met Danny an’ tried to get Danny drunk. An’ he couldn’t! What do
+      you think of that? Danny hedn’t been drinkin’—wouldn’t touch a drop.
+      I’m sure glad of thet, but it’s amazin’ strange. Why, Danny was a fish fer
+      red liquor. I guess he an’ Gene had some pretty hard words, though I’m not
+      sure about thet. Anyway, Gene went down to the railroad an’ he got on an
+      engine, an’ he was in the engine when it pulled out. Lord, I hope he
+      doesn’t hold up the train! If he gets gay over in Arizona he’ll go to the
+      pen at Yuma. An’ thet pen is a graveyard fer cowboys. I wired to agents
+      along the railroad to look out fer Stewart, an’ to wire back to me if he’s
+      located.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Suppose you do find him, Stillwell, what can you do?” inquired Alfred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man nodded gloomily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I straightened him up once. Mebbe I can do it again.” Then, brightening
+      somewhat, he turned to Madeline. “I jest hed an idee, Miss Majesty. If I
+      can get him, Gene Stewart is the cowboy I want fer my foreman. He can
+      manage this bunch of cow-punchers thet are drivin’ me dotty. What’s more,
+      since he’s fought fer the rebels an’ got that name El Capitan, all the
+      Greasers in the country will kneel to him. Now, Miss Majesty, we hevn’t
+      got rid of Don Carlos an’ his vaqueros yet. To be sure, he sold you his
+      house an’ ranch an’ stock. But you remember nothin’ was put in black and
+      white about when he should get out. An’ Don Carlos ain’t gettin’ out. I
+      don’t like the looks of things a little bit. I’ll tell you now thet Don
+      Carlos knows somethin’ about the cattle I lost, an’ thet you’ve been
+      losin’ right along. Thet Greaser is hand an’ glove with the rebels. I’m
+      willin’ to gamble thet when he does get out he an’ his vaqueros will make
+      another one of the bands of guerrillas thet are harassin’ the border. This
+      revolution ain’t over’ yet. It’s jest commenced. An’ all these gangs of
+      outlaws are goin’ to take advantage of it. We’ll see some old times,
+      mebbe. Wal, I need Gene Stewart. I need him bad. Will you let me hire him,
+      Miss Majesty, if I can get him straightened up?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old cattleman ended huskily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stillwell, by all means find Stewart, and do not wait to straighten him
+      up. Bring him to the ranch,” replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thanking her, Stillwell led his horse away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Strange how he loves that cowboy!” murmured Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Not so strange, Majesty,” replied her brother. “Not when you know.
+      Stewart has been with Stillwell on some hard trips into the desert alone.
+      There’s no middle course of feeling between men facing death in the
+      desert. Either they hate each other or love each other. I don’t know, but
+      I imagine Stewart did something for Stillwell—saved us life,
+      perhaps. Besides, Stewart’s a lovable chap when he’s going straight. I
+      hope Stillwell brings him back. We do need him, Majesty. He’s a born
+      leader. Once I saw him ride into a bunch of Mexicans whom we suspected of
+      rustling. It was fine to see him. Well, I’m sorry to tell you that we are
+      worried about Don Carlos. Some of his vaqueros came into my yard the other
+      day when I had left Flo alone. She had a bad scare. These vaqueros have
+      been different since Don Carlos sold the ranch. For that matter, I never
+      would have trusted a white woman alone with them. But they are bolder now.
+      Something’s in the wind. They’ve got assurance. They can ride off any
+      night and cross the border.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      During the succeeding week Madeline discovered that a good deal of her
+      sympathy for Stillwell in his hunt for the reckless Stewart had insensibly
+      grown to be sympathy for the cowboy. It was rather a paradox, she thought,
+      that opposed to the continual reports of Stewart’s wildness as he caroused
+      from town to town were the continual expressions of good will and faith
+      and hope universally given out by those near her at the ranch. Stillwell
+      loved the cowboy; Florence was fond of him; Alfred liked and admired him,
+      pitied him; the cowboys swore their regard for him the more he disgraced
+      himself. The Mexicans called him El Gran Capitan. Madeline’s personal
+      opinion of Stewart had not changed in the least since the night it had
+      been formed. But certain attributes of his, not clearly defined in her
+      mind, and the gift of his beautiful horse, his valor with the fighting
+      rebels, and all this strange regard for him, especially that of her
+      brother, made her exceedingly regret the cowboy’s present behavior.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile Stillwell was so earnest and zealous that one not familiar with
+      the situation would have believed he was trying to find and reclaim his
+      own son. He made several trips to little stations in the valley, and from
+      these he returned with a gloomy face. Madeline got the details from
+      Alfred. Stewart was going from bad to worse—drunk, disorderly,
+      savage, sure to land in the penitentiary. Then came a report that hurried
+      Stillwell off to Rodeo. He returned on the third day, a crushed man. He
+      had been so bitterly hurt that no one, not even Madeline, could get out of
+      him what had happened. He admitted finding Stewart, failing to influence
+      him; and when the old cattleman got so far he turned purple in the face
+      and talked to himself, as if dazed: “But Gene was drunk. He was drunk, or
+      he couldn’t hev treated old Bill like thet!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was stirred with an anger toward the brutal cowboy that was as
+      strong as her sorrow for the loyal old cattleman. And it was when
+      Stillwell gave up that she resolved to take a hand. The persistent faith
+      of Stillwell, his pathetic excuses in the face of what must have been
+      Stewart’s violence, perhaps baseness, actuated her powerfully, gave her
+      new insight into human nature. She honored a faith that remained unshaken.
+      And the strange thought came to her that Stewart must somehow be worthy of
+      such a faith, or he never could have inspired it. Madeline discovered that
+      she wanted to believe that somewhere deep down in the most depraved and
+      sinful wretch upon earth there was some grain of good. She yearned to have
+      the faith in human nature that Stillwell had in Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sent Nels, mounted upon his own horse, and leading Majesty, to Rodeo
+      in search of Stewart. Nels had instructions to bring Stewart back to the
+      ranch. In due time Nels returned, leading the roan without a rider.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yep, I shore found him,” replied Nels, when questioned. “Found him half
+      sobered up. He’d been in a scrap, an’ somebody hed put him to sleep, I
+      guess. Wal, when he seen thet roan hoss he let out a yell an’ grabbed him
+      round the neck. The hoss knowed him, all right. Then Gene hugged the hoss
+      an’ cried—cried like—I never seen no one who cried like he
+      did. I waited awhile, an’ was jest goin’ to say somethin’ to him when he
+      turned on me red-eyed, mad as fire. ‘Nels,’ he said, ‘I care a hell of a
+      lot fer thet boss, an’ I liked you pretty well, but if you don’t take him
+      away quick I’ll shoot you both.’ Wal, I lit out. I didn’t even git to say
+      howdy to him.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, you think it useless—any attempt to see him—persuade
+      him?” asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I shore do, Miss Hammond,” replied Nels, gravely. “I’ve seen a few
+      sun-blinded an’ locoed an’ snake-poisoned an’ skunk-bitten cow-punchers in
+      my day, but Gene Stewart beats ’em all. He’s shore runnin’ wild fer the
+      divide.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline dismissed Nels, but before he got out of earshot she heard him
+      speak to Stillwell, who awaited him on the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, put this in your pipe an’ smoke it—none of them scraps Gene
+      has hed was over a woman! It used to be thet when he was drank he’d scrap
+      over every pretty Greaser girl he’d run across. Thet’s why Pat Hawe thinks
+      Gene plugged the strange vaquero who was with little Bonita thet night
+      last fall. Wal, Gene’s scrappin’ now jest to git shot up hisself, for some
+      reason thet only God Almighty knows.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels’s story of how Stewart wept over his horse influenced Madeline
+      powerfully. Her next move was to persuade Alfred to see if he could not do
+      better with this doggedly bent cowboy. Alfred needed only a word of
+      persuasion, for he said he had considered going to Rodeo of his own
+      accord. He went, and returned alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty, I can’t explain Stewart’s singular actions,” said Alfred. “I saw
+      him, talked with him. He knew me, but nothing I said appeared to get to
+      him. He has changed terribly. I fancy his once magnificent strength is
+      breaking. It—it actually hurt me to look at him. I couldn’t have
+      fetched him back here—not as he is now. I heard all about him, and
+      if he isn’t downright out of his mind he’s hell-bent, as Bill says, on
+      getting killed. Some of his escapades are—are not for your ears.
+      Bill did all any man could do for another. We’ve all done our best for
+      Stewart. If you’d been given a chance perhaps you could have saved him.
+      But it’s too late. Put it out of mind now, dear.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, however, did not forget nor give it up. If she had forgotten or
+      surrendered, she felt that she would have been relinquishing infinitely
+      more than hope to aid one ruined man. But she was at a loss to know what
+      further steps to take. Days passed, and each one brought additional gossip
+      of Stewart’s headlong career toward the Yuma penitentiary. For he had
+      crossed the line into Cochise County, Arizona, where sheriffs kept a
+      stricter observance of law. Finally a letter came from a friend of Nels’s
+      in Chiricahua saying that Stewart had been hurt in a brawl there. His hurt
+      was not serious, but it would probably keep him quiet long enough to get
+      sober, and this opportunity, Nels’s informant said, would be a good one
+      for Stewart’s friends to take him home before he got locked up. This
+      epistle inclosed a letter to Stewart from his sister. Evidently, it had
+      been found upon him. It told a story of illness and made an appeal for
+      aid. Nels’s friend forwarded this letter without Stewart’s knowledge,
+      thinking Stillwell might care to help Stewart’s family. Stewart had no
+      money, he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sister’s letter found its way to Madeline. She read it, tears in her
+      eyes. It told Madeline much more than its brief story of illness and
+      poverty and wonder why Gene had not written home for so long. It told of
+      motherly love, sisterly love, brotherly love—dear family ties that
+      had not been broken. It spoke of pride in this El Capitan brother who had
+      become famous. It was signed “your loving sister Letty.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Not improbably, Madeline revolved in mind, this letter was one reason for
+      Stewart’s headstrong, long-continued abasement. It had been received too
+      late—after he had squandered the money that would have meant so much
+      to mother and sister. Be that as it might, Madeline immediately sent a
+      bank-draft to Stewart’s sister with a letter explaining that the money was
+      drawn in advance on Stewart’s salary. This done, she impulsively
+      determined to go to Chiricahua herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The horseback-rides Madeline had taken to this little Arizona hamlet had
+      tried her endurance to the utmost; but the journey by automobile, except
+      for some rocky bits of road and sandy stretches, was comfortable, and a
+      matter of only a few hours. The big touring-car was still a kind of
+      seventh wonder to the Mexicans and cowboys; not that automobiles were very
+      new and strange, but because this one was such an enormous machine and
+      capable of greater speed than an express-train. The chauffeur who had
+      arrived with the car found his situation among the jealous cowboys
+      somewhat far removed from a bed of roses. He had been induced to remain
+      long enough to teach the operating and mechanical technique of the car.
+      And choice fell upon Link Stevens, for the simple reason that of all the
+      cowboys he was the only one with any knack for mechanics. Now Link had
+      been a hard-riding, hard-driving cowboy, and that winter he had sustained
+      an injury to his leg, caused by a bad fall, and was unable to sit his
+      horse. This had been gall and wormwood to him. But when the big white
+      automobile came and he was elected to drive it, life was once more worth
+      living for him. But all the other cowboys regarded Link and his machine as
+      some correlated species of demon. They were deathly afraid of both.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was for this reason that Nels, when Madeline asked him to accompany her
+      to Chiricahua, replied, reluctantly, that he would rather follow on his
+      horse. However, she prevailed over his hesitancy, and with Florence also
+      in the car they set out. For miles and miles the valley road was smooth,
+      hard-packed, and slightly downhill. And when speeding was perfectly safe,
+      Madeline was not averse to it. The grassy plain sailed backward in gray
+      sheets, and the little dot in the valley grew larger and larger. From time
+      to time Link glanced round at unhappy Nels, whose eyes were wild and whose
+      hands clutched his seat. While the car was crossing the sandy and rocky
+      places, going slowly, Nels appeared to breathe easier. And when it stopped
+      in the wide, dusty street of Chiricahua Nels gladly tumbled out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, we shall wait here in the car while you find Stewart,” said
+      Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, I reckon Gene’ll run when he sees us, if he’s able to run,”
+       replied Nels. “Wal, I’ll go find him an’ make up my mind then what we’d
+      better do.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels crossed the railroad track and disappeared behind the low, flat
+      houses. After a little time he reappeared and hurried up to the car.
+      Madeline felt his gray gaze searching her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, I found him,” said Nels. “He was sleepin’. I woke him. He’s
+      sober an’ not bad hurt; but I don’t believe you ought to see him. Mebbe
+      Florence—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, I want to see him myself. Why not? What did he say when you told
+      him I was here?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shore I didn’t tell him that. I jest says, ‘Hullo, Gene!’ an’ he says,
+      ‘My Gawd! Nels! mebbe I ain’t glad to see a human bein’.’ He asked me who
+      was with me, an’ I told him Link an’ some friends. I said I’d fetch them
+      in. He hollered at thet. But I went, anyway. Now, if you really will see
+      him, Miss Hammond, it’s a good chance. But shore it’s a touchy matter, an’
+      you’ll be some sick at sight of him. He’s layin’ in a Greaser hole over
+      here. Likely the Greasers hev been kind to him. But they’re shore a poor
+      lot.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline did not hesitate a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thank you, Nels. Take me at once. Come, Florence.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They left the car, now surrounded by gaping-eyed Mexican children, and
+      crossed the dusty space to a narrow lane between red adobe walls. Passing
+      by several houses, Nels stopped at the door of what appeared to be an
+      alleyway leading back. It was filthy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “He’s in there, around thet first corner. It’s a patio, open an’ sunny.
+      An’, Miss Hammond, if you don’t mind, I’ll wait here for you. I reckon
+      Gene wouldn’t like any fellers around when he sees you girls.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was that which made Madeline hesitate then and go forward slowly. She
+      had given no thought at all to what Stewart might feel when suddenly
+      surprised by her presence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Florence, you wait also,” said Madeline, at the doorway, and turned in
+      alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she had stepped into a broken-down patio littered with alfalfa straw
+      and debris, all clear in the sunlight. Upon a bench, back toward her, sat
+      a man looking out through the rents in the broken wall. He had not heard
+      her. The place was not quite so filthy and stifling as the passages
+      Madeline had come through to get there. Then she saw that it had been used
+      as a corral. A rat ran boldly across the dirt floor. The air swarmed with
+      flies, which the man brushed at with weary hand. Madeline did not
+      recognize Stewart. The side of his face exposed to her gaze was black,
+      bruised, bearded. His clothes were ragged and soiled. There were bits of
+      alfalfa in his hair. His shoulders sagged. He made a wretched and hopeless
+      figure sitting there. Madeline divined something of why Nels shrank from
+      being present.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mr. Stewart. It is I, Miss Hammond, come to see you,” she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He grew suddenly perfectly motionless, as if he had been changed to stone.
+      She repeated her greeting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His body jerked. He moved violently as if instinctively to turn and face
+      this intruder; but a more violent movement checked him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline waited. How singular that this ruined cowboy had pride which kept
+      him from showing his face! And was it not shame more than pride?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mr. Stewart, I have come to talk with you, if you will let me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Go away,” he muttered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mr. Stewart!” she began, with involuntary hauteur. But instantly she
+      corrected herself, became deliberate and cool, for she saw that she might
+      fail to be even heard by this man. “I have come to help you. Will you let
+      me?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “For God’s sake! You—you—” he choked over the words. “Go
+      away!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, perhaps it was for God’s sake that I came,” said Madeline,
+      gently. “Surely it was for yours—and your sister’s—” Madeline
+      bit her tongue, for she had not meant to betray her knowledge of Letty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He groaned, and, staggering up to the broken wall, he leaned there with
+      his face hidden. Madeline reflected that perhaps the slip of speech had
+      been well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, please let me say what I have to say?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was silent. And she gathered courage and inspiration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stillwell is deeply hurt, deeply grieved that he could not turn you back
+      from this—this fatal course. My brother is also. They wanted to help
+      you. And so do I. I have come, thinking somehow I might succeed where they
+      have failed. Nels brought your sister’s letter. I—I read it. I was
+      only the more determined to try to help you, and indirectly help your
+      mother and Letty. Stewart, we want you to come to the ranch. Stillwell
+      needs you for his foreman. The position is open to you, and you can name
+      your salary. Both Al and Stillwell are worried about Don Carlos, the
+      vaqueros, and the raids down along the border. My cowboys are without a
+      capable leader. Will you come?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No,” he answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “But Stillwell wants you so badly.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, I want you to come.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His replies had been hoarse, loud, furious. They disconcerted Madeline,
+      and she paused, trying to think of a way to proceed. Stewart staggered
+      away from the wall, and, falling upon the bench, he hid his face in his
+      hands. All his motions, like his speech, had been violent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Will you please go away?” he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, certainly I cannot remain here longer if you insist upon my
+      going. But why not listen to me when I want so much to help you? Why?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m a damned blackguard,” he burst out. “But I was a gentleman once, and
+      I’m not so low that I can stand for you seeing me here.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “When I made up my mind to help you I made it up to see you wherever you
+      were. Stewart, come away, come back with us to the ranch. You are in a bad
+      condition now. Everything looks black to you. But that will pass. When you
+      are among friends again you will get well. You will be your old self. The
+      very fact that you were once a gentleman, that you come of good family,
+      makes you owe so much more to yourself. Why, Stewart, think how young you
+      are! It is a shame to waste your life. Come back with me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, this was my last plunge,” he replied, despondently. “It’s
+      too late.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh no, it is not so bad as that.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It’s too late.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “At least make an effort, Stewart. Try!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No. There’s no use. I’m done for. Please leave me—thank you for—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had been savage, then sullen, and now he was grim. Madeline all but
+      lost power to resist his strange, deadly, cold finality. No doubt he knew
+      he was doomed. Yet something halted her—held her even as she took a
+      backward step. And she became conscious of a subtle change in her own
+      feeling. She had come into that squalid hole, Madeline Hammond, earnest
+      enough, kind enough in her own intentions; but she had been almost
+      imperious—a woman habitually, proudly used to being obeyed. She
+      divined that all the pride, blue blood, wealth, culture, distinction, all
+      the impersonal condescending persuasion, all the fatuous philanthropy on
+      earth would not avail to turn this man a single hair’s-breadth from his
+      downward career to destruction. Her coming had terribly augmented his
+      bitter hate of himself. She was going to fail to help him. She experienced
+      a sensation of impotence that amounted almost to distress. The situation
+      assumed a tragic keenness. She had set forth to reverse the tide of a wild
+      cowboy’s fortunes; she faced the swift wasting of his life, the damnation
+      of his soul. The subtle consciousness of change in her was the birth of
+      that faith she had revered in Stillwell. And all at once she became merely
+      a woman, brave and sweet and indomitable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, look at me,” she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shuddered. She advanced and laid a hand on his bent shoulder. Under the
+      light touch he appeared to sink.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Look at me,” she repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he could not lift his head. He was abject, crushed. He dared not show
+      his swollen, blackened face. His fierce, cramped posture revealed more
+      than his features might have shown; it betrayed the torturing shame of a
+      man of pride and passion, a man who had been confronted in his degradation
+      by the woman he had dared to enshrine in his heart. It betrayed his love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Listen, then,” went on Madeline, and her voice was unsteady. “Listen to
+      me, Stewart. The greatest men are those who have fallen deepest into the
+      mire, sinned most, suffered most, and then have fought their evil natures
+      and conquered. I think you can shake off this desperate mood and be a
+      man.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No!” he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Listen to me again. Somehow I know you’re worthy of Stillwell’s love.
+      Will you come back with us—for his sake?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No. It’s too late, I tell you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, the best thing in life is faith in human nature. I have faith in
+      you. I believe you are worth it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You’re only kind and good—saying that. You can’t mean it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I mean it with all my heart,” she replied, a sudden rich warmth suffusing
+      her body as she saw the first sign of his softening. “Will you come back—if
+      not for your own sake or Stillwell’s—then for mine?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “What am I to such a woman as you?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “A man in trouble, Stewart. But I have come to help you, to show my faith
+      in you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “If I believed that I might try,” he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Listen,” she began, softly, hurriedly. “My word is not lightly given. Let
+      it prove my faith in you. Look at me now and say you will come.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He heaved up his big frame as if trying to cast off a giant’s burden, and
+      then slowly he turned toward her. His face was a blotched and terrible
+      thing. The physical brutalizing marks were there, and at that instant all
+      that appeared human to Madeline was the dawning in dead, furnace-like eyes
+      of a beautiful light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’ll come,” he whispered, huskily. “Give me a few days to straighten up,
+      then I’ll come.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      IX. The New Foreman
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      Toward the end of the week Stillwell informed Madeline that Stewart had
+      arrived at the ranch and had taken up quarters with Nels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene’s sick. He looks bad,” said the old cattleman. “He’s so weak an’
+      shaky he can’t lift a cup. Nels says that Gene has hed some bad spells. A
+      little liquor would straighten him up now. But Nels can’t force him to
+      drink a drop, an’ has hed to sneak some liquor in his coffee. Wal, I think
+      we’ll pull Gene through. He’s forgotten a lot. I was goin’ to tell him
+      what he did to me up at Rodeo. But I know if he’d believe it he’d be
+      sicker than he is. Gene’s losin’ his mind, or he’s got somethin’ powerful
+      strange on it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From that time Stillwell, who evidently found Madeline his most
+      sympathetic listener, unburdened himself daily of his hopes and fears and
+      conjectures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart was really ill. It became necessary to send Link Stevens for a
+      physician. Then Stewart began slowly to mend and presently was able to get
+      up and about. Stillwell said the cowboy lacked interest and seemed to be a
+      broken man. This statement, however, the old cattleman modified as Stewart
+      continued to improve. Then presently it was a good augury of Stewart’s
+      progress that the cowboys once more took up the teasing relation which had
+      been characteristic of them before his illness. A cowboy was indeed out of
+      sorts when he could not vent his peculiar humor on somebody or something.
+      Stewart had evidently become a broad target for their badinage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, the boys are sure after Gene,” said Stillwell, with his huge smile.
+      “Joshin’ him all the time about how he sits around an’ hangs around an’
+      loafs around jest to get a glimpse of you, Miss Majesty. Sure all the boys
+      hev a pretty bad case over their pretty boss, but none of them is a marker
+      to Gene. He’s got it so bad, Miss Majesty, thet he actooly don’t know they
+      are joshin’ him. It’s the amazin’est strange thing I ever seen. Why, Gene
+      was always a feller thet you could josh. An’ he’d laugh an’ get back at
+      you. But he was never before deaf to talk, an’ there was a certain limit
+      no feller cared to cross with him. Now he takes every word an’ smiles
+      dreamy like, an’ jest looks an’ looks. Why, he’s beginnin’ to make me
+      tired. He’ll never run thet bunch of cowboys if he doesn’t wake up quick.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline smiled her amusement and expressed a belief that Stillwell wanted
+      too much in such short time from a man who had done body and mind a
+      grievous injury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It had been impossible for Madeline to fail to observe Stewart’s singular
+      behavior. She never went out to take her customary walks and rides without
+      seeing him somewhere in the distance. She was aware that he watched for
+      her and avoided meeting her. When she sat on the porch during the
+      afternoon or at sunset Stewart could always be descried at some point
+      near. He idled listlessly in the sun, lounged on the porch of his
+      bunk-house, sat whittling the top bar of the corral fence, and always it
+      seemed to Madeline he was watching her. Once, while going the rounds with
+      her gardener, she encountered Stewart and greeted him kindly. He said
+      little, but he was not embarrassed. She did not recognize in his face any
+      feature that she remembered. In fact, on each of the few occasions when
+      she had met Stewart he had looked so different that she had no consistent
+      idea of his facial appearance. He was now pale, haggard, drawn. His eyes
+      held a shadow through which shone a soft, subdued light; and, once having
+      observed this, Madeline fancied it was like the light in Majesty’s eyes,
+      in the dumb, worshiping eyes of her favorite stag-hound. She told Stewart
+      that she hoped he would soon be in the saddle again, and passed on her
+      way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That Stewart loved her Madeline could not help but see. She endeavored to
+      think of him as one of the many who, she was glad to know, liked her. But
+      she could not regulate her thoughts to fit the order her intelligence
+      prescribed. Thought of Stewart dissociated itself from thought of the
+      other cowboys. When she discovered this she felt a little surprise and
+      annoyance. Then she interrogated herself, and concluded that it was not
+      that Stewart was so different from his comrades, but that circumstances
+      made him stand out from them. She recalled her meeting with him that night
+      when he had tried to force her to marry him. This was unforgettable in
+      itself. She called subsequent mention of him, and found it had been
+      peculiarly memorable. The man and his actions seemed to hinge on events.
+      Lastly, the fact standing clear of all others in its relation to her
+      interest was that he had been almost ruined, almost lost, and she had
+      saved him. That alone was sufficient to explain why she thought of him
+      differently. She had befriended, uplifted the other cowboys; she had saved
+      Stewart’s life. To be sure, he had been a ruffian, but a woman could not
+      save the life of even a ruffian without remembering it with gladness.
+      Madeline at length decided her interest in Stewart was natural, and that
+      her deeper feeling was pity. Perhaps the interest had been forced from
+      her; however, she gave the pity as she gave everything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart recovered his strength, though not in time to ride at the spring
+      round-up; and Stillwell discussed with Madeline the advisability of making
+      the cowboy his foreman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Gene seems to be gettin’ along,” said Stillwell. “But he ain’t like
+      his old self. I think more of him at thet. But where’s his spirit? The
+      boys’d ride rough-shod all over him. Mebbe I’d do best to wait longer now,
+      as the slack season is on. All the same, if those vaquero of Don Carlos’s
+      don’t lay low I’ll send Gene over there. Thet’ll wake him up.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A few days afterward Stillwell came to Madeline, rubbing his big hands in
+      satisfaction and wearing a grin that was enormous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, I reckon before this I’ve said things was amazin’ strange.
+      But now Gene Stewart has gone an’ done it! Listen to me. Them Greasers
+      down on our slope hev been gettin’ prosperous. They’re growin’ like bad
+      weeds. An’ they got a new padre—the little old feller from El Cajon,
+      Padre Marcos. Wal, this was all right, all the boys thought, except Gene.
+      An’ he got blacker ’n thunder an’ roared round like a dehorned bull. I was
+      sure glad to see he could get mad again. Then Gene haids down the slope
+      fer the church. Nels an’ me follered him, thinkin’ he might hev been took
+      sudden with a crazy spell or somethin’. He hasn’t never been jest right
+      yet since he left off drinkin’. Wal, we run into him comin’ out of the
+      church. We never was so dumfounded in our lives. Gene was crazy, all right—he
+      sure hed a spell. But it was the kind of a spell he hed thet paralyzed us.
+      He ran past us like a streak, an’ we follered. We couldn’t ketch him. We
+      heerd him laugh—the strangest laugh I ever heerd! You’d thought the
+      feller was suddenly made a king. He was like thet feller who was tied in a
+      bunyin’-sack an’ throwed into the sea, an’ cut his way out, an’ swam to
+      the island where the treasures was, an’ stood up yellin’, ‘The world is
+      mine.’ Wal, when we got up to his bunk-house he was gone. He didn’t come
+      back all day an’ all night. Frankie Slade, who has a sharp tongue, says
+      Gene hed gone crazy for liquor an’ thet was his finish. Nels was some
+      worried. An’ I was sick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal’ this mawnin’ I went over to Nels’s bunk. Some of the fellers was
+      there, all speculatin’ about Gene. Then big as life Gene struts round the
+      corner. He wasn’t the same Gene. His face was pale an’ his eyes burned
+      like fire. He had thet old mockin’, cool smile, an’ somethin’ besides thet
+      I couldn’t understand. Frankie Slade up an’ made a remark—no wuss
+      than he’d been makin’ fer days—an’ Gene tumbled him out of his
+      chair, punched him good, walked all over him. Frankie wasn’t hurt so much
+      as he was bewildered. ‘Gene,’ he says, ‘what the hell struck you?’ An’
+      Gene says, kind of sweet like, ‘Frankie, you may be a nice feller when
+      you’re alone, but your talk’s offensive to a gentleman.’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “After thet what was said to Gene was with a nice smile. Now, Miss
+      Majesty, it’s beyond me what to allow for Gene’s sudden change. First off,
+      I thought Padre Marcos had converted him. I actooly thought thet. But I
+      reckon it’s only Gene Stewart come back—the old Gene Stewart an’
+      some. Thet’s all I care about. I’m rememberin’ how I once told you thet
+      Gene was the last of the cowboys. Perhaps I should hev said he’s the last
+      of my kind of cowboys. Wal, Miss Majesty, you’ll be apprecatin’ of what I
+      meant from now on.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was also beyond Madeline to account for Gene Stewart’s antics, and,
+      making allowance for the old cattleman’s fancy, she did not weigh his
+      remarks very heavily. She guessed why Stewart might have been angry at the
+      presence of Padre Marcos. Madeline supposed that it was rather an unusual
+      circumstance for a cowboy to be converted to religious belief. But it was
+      possible. And she knew that religious fervor often manifested itself in
+      extremes of feeling and action. Most likely, in Stewart’s case, his real
+      manner had been both misunderstood and exaggerated. However, Madeline had
+      a curious desire, which she did not wholly admit to herself, to see the
+      cowboy and make her own deductions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The opportunity did not present itself for nearly two weeks. Stewart had
+      taken up his duties as foreman, and his activities were ceaseless. He was
+      absent most of the time, ranging down toward the Mexican line. When he
+      returned Stillwell sent for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was late in the afternoon of a day in the middle of April. Alfred and
+      Florence were with Madeline on the porch. They saw the cowboy turn his
+      horse over to one of the Mexican boys at the corral and then come with
+      weary step up to the house, beating the dust out of his gauntlets. Little
+      streams of gray sand trickled from his sombrero as he removed it and bowed
+      to the women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw the man she remembered, but with a singularly different
+      aspect. His skin was brown; his eyes were piercing and dark and steady; he
+      carried himself erect; he seemed preoccupied, and there was not a trace of
+      embarrassment in his manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Gene, I’m sure glad to see you,” Stillwell was saying. “Where do you
+      hail from?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Guadaloupe Canyon,” replied the cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell whistled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Way down there! You don’t mean you follered them hoss tracks thet far?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “All the way from Don Carlos’s rancho across the Mexican line. I took Nick
+      Steele with me. Nick is the best tracker in the outfit. This trail we were
+      on led along the foothill valleys. First we thought whoever made it was
+      hunting for water. But they passed two ranches without watering. At
+      Seaton’s Wash they dug for water. Here they met a pack-train of burros
+      that came down the mountain trail. The burros were heavily loaded. Horse
+      and burro tracks struck south from Seaton’s to the old California emigrant
+      road. We followed the trail through Guadelope Canyon and across the
+      border. On the way back we stopped at Slaughter’s ranch, where the United
+      States cavalry are camping. There we met foresters from the Peloncillo
+      forest reserve. If these fellows knew anything they kept it to themselves.
+      So we hit the trail home.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I reckon you know enough?” inquired Stillwell, slowly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon,” replied Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, out with it, then,” said Stillwell, gruffly. “Miss Hammond can’t be
+      kept in the dark much longer. Make your report to her.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboy shifted his dark gaze to Madeline. He was cool and slow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “We’re losing a few cattle on the open range. Night-drives by the
+      vaqueros. Some of these cattle are driven across the valley, others up to
+      the foothills. So far as I can find out no cattle are being driven south.
+      So this raiding is a blind to fool the cowboys. Don Carlos is a Mexican
+      rebel. He located his rancho here a few years ago and pretended to raise
+      cattle. All that time he has been smuggling arms and ammunition across the
+      border. He was for Madero against Diaz. Now he is against Madero because
+      he and all the rebels think Madero failed to keep his promises. There will
+      be another revolution. And all the arms go from the States across the
+      border. Those burros I told about were packed with contraband goods.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “That’s a matter for the United States cavalry. They are patrolling the
+      border,” said Alfred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “They can’t stop the smuggling of arms, not down in that wild corner,”
+       replied Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What is my—my duty? What has it to do with me?” inquired Madeline,
+      somewhat perturbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Miss Majesty, I reckon it hasn’t nothing to do with you,” put in
+      Stillwell. “Thet’s my bizness an’ Stewart’s. But I jest wanted you to
+      know. There might be some trouble follerin’ my orders.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Your orders?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I want to send Stewart over to fire Don Carlos an’ his vaqueros off the
+      range. They’ve got to go. Don Carlos is breakin’ the law of the United
+      States, an’ doin’ it on our property an’ with our hosses. Hev I your
+      permission, Miss Hammond?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why, assuredly you have! Stillwell, you know what to do. Alfred, what do
+      you think best?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It’ll make trouble, Majesty, but it’s got to be done,” replied Alfred.
+      “Here you have a crowd of Eastern friends due next month. We want the
+      range to ourselves then. But, Stillwell, if you drive those vaqueros off,
+      won’t they hang around in the foothills? I declare they are a bad lot.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell’s mind was not at ease. He paced the porch with a frown clouding
+      his brow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene, I reckon you got this Greaser deal figgered better’n me,” said
+      Stillwell. “Now what do you say?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “He’ll have to be forced off,” replied Stewart, quietly. “The Don’s pretty
+      slick, but his vaqueros are bad actors. It’s just this way. Nels said the
+      other day to me, ‘Gene, I haven’t packed a gun for years until lately, and
+      it feels good whenever I meet any of those strange Greasers.’ You see,
+      Stillwell, Don Carlos has vaqueros coming and going all the time. They’re
+      guerrilla bands, that’s all. And they’re getting uglier. There have been
+      several shooting-scrapes lately. A rancher named White, who lives up the
+      valley, was badly hurt. It’s only a matter of time till something stirs up
+      the boys here. Stillwell, you know Nels and Monty and Nick.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sure I know ’em. An’ you’re not mentionin’ one more particular cowboy in
+      my outfit,” said Stillwell, with a dry chuckle and a glance at Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline divined the covert meaning, and a slight chill passed over her,
+      as if a cold wind had blown in from the hills.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, I see you carry a gun,” she said, pointing to a black handle
+      protruding from a sheath swinging low along his leather chaps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, ma’am.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why do you carry it?” she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well,” he said, “it’s not a pretty gun—and it’s heavy.” She caught
+      the inference. The gun was not an ornament. His keen, steady, dark gaze
+      caused her vague alarm. What had once seemed cool and audacious about this
+      cowboy was now cold and powerful and mystical. Both her instinct and her
+      intelligence realized the steel fiber of the man’s nature. As she was his
+      employer, she had the right to demand that he should not do what was so
+      chillingly manifest that he might do. But Madeline could not demand. She
+      felt curiously young and weak, and the five months of Western life were as
+      if they had never been. She now had to do with a question involving human
+      life. And the value she placed upon human life and its spiritual
+      significance was a matter far from her cowboy’s thoughts. A strange idea
+      flashed up. Did she place too much value upon all human life? She checked
+      that, wondering, almost horrified at herself. And then her intuition told
+      her that she possessed a far stronger power to move these primitive men
+      than any woman’s stern rule or order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, I do not fully understand what you hint that Nels and his
+      comrades might do. Please be frank with me. Do you mean Nels would shoot
+      upon little provocation?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, as far as Nels is concerned, shooting is now just a matter
+      of his meeting Don Carlos’s vaqueros. It’s wonderful what Nels has stood
+      from them, considering the Mexicans he’s already killed.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Already killed! Stewart, you are not in earnest?” cried Madeline,
+      shocked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am. Nels has seen hard life along the Arizona border. He likes peace as
+      well as any man. But a few years of that doesn’t change what the early
+      days made of him. As for Nick Steele and Monty, they’re just bad men, and
+      looking for trouble.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “How about yourself, Stewart? Stillwell’s remark was not lost upon me,”
+       said Madeline, prompted by curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart did not reply. He looked at her in respectful silence. In her keen
+      earnestness Madeline saw beneath his cool exterior and was all the more
+      baffled. Was there a slight, inscrutable, mocking light in his eyes, or
+      was it only her imagination? However, the cowboy’s face was as hard as
+      flint.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, I have come to love my ranch,” said Madeline, slowly, “and I
+      care a great deal for my—my cowboys. It would be dreadful if they
+      were to kill anybody, or especially if one of them should be killed.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, you’ve changed things considerable out here, but you can’t
+      change these men. All that’s needed to start them is a little trouble. And
+      this Mexican revolution is bound to make rough times along some of the
+      wilder passes across the border. We’re in line, that’s all. And the boys
+      are getting stirred up.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Very well, then, I must accept the inevitable. I am facing a rough time.
+      And some of my cowboys cannot be checked much longer. But, Stewart,
+      whatever you have been in the past, you have changed.” She smiled at him,
+      and her voice was singularly sweet and rich. “Stillwell has so often
+      referred to you as the last of his kind of cowboy. I have just a faint
+      idea of what a wild life you have led. Perhaps that fits you to be a
+      leader of such rough men. I am no judge of what a leader should do in this
+      crisis. My cowboys are entailing risk in my employ; my property is not
+      safe; perhaps my life even might be endangered. I want to rely upon you,
+      since Stillwell believes, and I, too, that you are the man for this place.
+      I shall give you no orders. But is it too much to ask that you be my kind
+      of a cowboy?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline remembered Stewart’s former brutality and shame and abject
+      worship, and she measured the great change in him by the contrast afforded
+      now in his dark, changeless, intent face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, what kind of a cowboy is that?” he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I—I don’t exactly know. It is that kind which I feel you might be.
+      But I do know that in the problem at hand I want your actions to be
+      governed by reason, not passion. Human life is not for any man to
+      sacrifice unless in self-defense or in protecting those dependent upon
+      him. What Stillwell and you hinted makes me afraid of Nels and Nick Steele
+      and Monty. Cannot they be controlled? I want to feel that they will not go
+      gunning for Don Carlos’s men. I want to avoid all violence. And yet when
+      my guests come I want to feel that they will be safe from danger or fright
+      or even annoyance. May I not rely wholly upon you, Stewart? Just trust you
+      to manage these obstreperous cowboys and protect my property and Alfred’s,
+      and take care of us—of me, until this revolution is ended? I have
+      never had a day’s worry since I bought the ranch. It is not that I want to
+      shirk my responsibilities; it is that I like being happy. May I put so
+      much faith in you?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I hope so, Miss Hammond,” replied Stewart. It was an instant response,
+      but none the less fraught with consciousness of responsibility. He waited
+      a moment, and then, as neither Stillwell nor Madeline offered further
+      speech, he bowed and turned down the path, his long spurs clinking in the
+      gravel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, wal,” exclaimed Stillwell, “thet’s no little job you give him, Miss
+      Majesty.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It was a woman’s cunning, Stillwell,” said Alfred. “My sister used to be
+      a wonder at getting her own way when we were kids. Just a smile or two, a
+      few sweet words or turns of thought, and she had what she wanted.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Al, what a character to give me!” protested Madeline. “Indeed, I was
+      deeply in earnest with Stewart. I do not understand just why, but I trust
+      him. He seems like iron and steel. Then I was a little frightened at the
+      prospect of trouble with the vaqueros. Both you and Stillwell have
+      influenced me to look upon Stewart as invaluable. I thought it best to
+      confess my utter helplessness and to look to him for support.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty, whatever actuated you, it was a stroke of diplomacy,” replied
+      her brother. “Stewart has got good stuff in him. He was down and out.
+      Well, he’s made a game fight, and it looks as if he’d win. Trusting him,
+      giving him responsibility, relying upon him, was the surest way to
+      strengthen his hold upon himself. Then that little touch of sentiment
+      about being your kind of cowboy and protecting you—well, if Gene
+      Stewart doesn’t develop into an Argus-eyed knight I’ll say I don’t know
+      cowboys. But, Majesty, remember, he’s a composite of tiger breed and
+      forked lightning, and don’t imagine he has failed you if he gets into a
+      fight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’ll sure tell you what Gene Stewart will do,” said Florence. “Don’t I
+      know cowboys? Why, they used to take me up on their horses when I was a
+      baby. Gene Stewart will be the kind of cowboy your sister said he might
+      be, whatever that is. She may not know and we may not guess, but he
+      knows.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Flo, there you hit plumb center,” replied the old cattleman. “An’ I
+      couldn’t be gladder if he was my own son.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      X. Don Carlos’s Vaqueros
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      Early the following morning Stewart, with a company of cowboys, departed
+      for Don Carlos’s rancho. As the day wore on without any report from him,
+      Stillwell appeared to grow more at ease; and at nightfall he told Madeline
+      that he guessed there was now no reason for concern.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, though it’s sure amazin’ strange,” he continued, “I’ve been worryin’
+      some about how we was goin’ to fire Don Carlos. But Gene has a way of
+      doin’ things.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day Stillwell and Alfred decided to ride over Don Carlos’s place,
+      taking Madeline and Florence with them, and upon the return trip to stop
+      at Alfred’s ranch. They started in the cool, gray dawn, and after three
+      hours’ riding, as the sun began to get bright, they entered a mesquite
+      grove, surrounding corrals and barns, and a number of low, squat buildings
+      and a huge, rambling structure, all built of adobe and mostly crumbling to
+      ruin. Only one green spot relieved the bald red of grounds and walls; and
+      this evidently was made by the spring which had given both value and fame
+      to Don Carlos’s range. The approach to the house was through a wide
+      courtyard, bare, stony, hard packed, with hitching-rails and
+      watering-troughs in front of a long porch. Several dusty, tired horses
+      stood with drooping heads and bridles down, their wet flanks attesting to
+      travel just ended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, dog-gone it, Al, if there ain’t Pat Hawe’s hoss I’ll eat it,”
+       exclaimed Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What’s Pat want here, anyhow?” growled Alfred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No one was in sight; but Madeline heard loud voices coming from the house.
+      Stillwell dismounted at the porch and stalked in at the door. Alfred
+      leaped off his horse, helped Florence and Madeline down, and, bidding them
+      rest and wait on the porch, he followed Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I hate these Greaser places,” said Florence, with a grimace. “They’re so
+      mysterious and creepy. Just watch now! They’ll be dark-skinned,
+      beady-eyed, soft-footed Greasers slip right up out of the ground! There’ll
+      be an ugly face in every door and window and crack.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It’s like a huge barn with its characteristic odor permeated by tobacco
+      smoke,” replied Madeline, sitting down beside Florence. “I don’t think
+      very much of this end of my purchase. Florence, isn’t that Don Carlos’s
+      black horse over there in the corral?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It sure is. Then the Don’s heah yet. I wish we hadn’t been in such a
+      hurry to come over. There! that doesn’t sound encouraging.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From the corridor came the rattling of spurs, tramping of boots, and loud
+      voices. Madeline detected Alfred’s quick notes when he was annoyed: “We’ll
+      rustle back home, then,” he said. The answer came, “No!” Madeline
+      recognized Stewart’s voice, and she quickly straightened up. “I won’t have
+      them in here,” went on Alfred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Outdoors or in, they’ve got to be with us!” replied Stewart, sharply.
+      “Listen, Al,” came the boom of Stillwell’s big voice, “now that we’ve
+      butted in over hyar with the girls, you let Stewart run things.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then a crowd of men tramped pell-mell out upon the porch. Stewart,
+      dark-browed and somber, was in the lead. Nels hung close to him, and
+      Madeline’s quick glance saw that Nels had undergone some indescribable
+      change. The grinning, brilliant-eyed Don Carlos came jostling out beside a
+      gaunt, sharp-featured man wearing a silver shield. This, no doubt, was Pat
+      Hawe. In the background behind Stillwell and Alfred stood Nick Steele,
+      head and shoulders over a number of vaqueros and cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, I’m sorry you came,” said Stewart, bluntly. “We’re in a
+      muddle here. I’ve insisted that you and Flo be kept close to us. I’ll
+      explain later. If you can’t stop your ears I beg you to overlook rough
+      talk.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that he turned to the men behind him: “Nick, take Booly, go back to
+      Monty and the boys. Fetch out that stuff. All of it. Rustle, now!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell and Alfred disengaged themselves from the crowd to take up
+      positions in front of Madeline and Florence. Pat Hawe leaned against a
+      post and insolently ogled Madeline and then Florence. Don Carlos pressed
+      forward. His whole figure filled Madeline’s reluctant but fascinated eyes.
+      He wore tight velveteen breeches, with a heavy fold down the outside seam,
+      which was ornamented with silver buttons. Round his waist was a sash, and
+      a belt with fringed holster, from which protruded a pearl-handled gun. A
+      vest or waistcoat, richly embroidered, partly concealed a blouse of silk
+      and wholly revealed a silken scarf round his neck. His swarthy face showed
+      dark lines, like cords, under the surface. His little eyes were
+      exceedingly prominent and glittering. To Madeline his face seemed to be a
+      bold, handsome mask through which his eyes piercingly betrayed the evil
+      nature of the man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed low with elaborate and sinuous grace. His smile revealed
+      brilliant teeth, enhanced the brilliance of his eyes. He slowly spread
+      deprecatory hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senoritas, I beg a thousand pardons,” he said. How strange it was for
+      Madeline to hear English spoken in a soft, whiningly sweet accent! “The
+      gracious hospitality of Don Carlos has passed with his house.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart stepped forward and, thrusting Don Carlos aside, he called, “Make
+      way, there!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The crowd fell back to the tramp of heavy boots. Cowboys appeared
+      staggering out of the corridor with long boxes. These they placed side by
+      side upon the floor of the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Now, Hawe, we’ll proceed with our business,” said Stewart. “You see these
+      boxes, don’t you?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon I see a good many things round hyar,” replied Hawe, meaningly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, do you intend to open these boxes upon my say-so?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No!” retorted Hawe. “It’s not my place to meddle with property as come by
+      express an’ all accounted fer regular.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You call yourself a sheriff!” exclaimed Stewart, scornfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mebbe you’ll think so before long,” rejoined Hawe, sullenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’ll open them. Here, one of you boys, knock the tops off these boxes,”
+       ordered Stewart. “No, not you, Monty. You use your eyes. Let Booly handle
+      the ax. Rustle, now!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty Price had jumped out of the crowd into the middle of the porch. The
+      manner in which he gave way to Booly and faced the vaqueros was not
+      significant of friendliness or trust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, you’re dead wrong to bust open them boxes. Thet’s ag’in’ the
+      law,” protested Hawe, trying to interfere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart pushed him back. Then Don Carlos, who had been stunned by the
+      appearance of the boxes, suddenly became active in speech and person.
+      Stewart thrust him back also. The Mexican’s excitement increased. He
+      wildly gesticulated; he exclaimed shrilly in Spanish. When, however, the
+      lids were wrenched open and an inside packing torn away he grew rigid and
+      silent. Madeline raised herself behind Stillwell to see that the boxes
+      were full of rifles and ammunition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “There, Hawe! What did I tell you?” demanded Stewart. “I came over here to
+      take charge of this ranch. I found these boxes hidden in an unused room. I
+      suspected what they were. Contraband goods!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, supposin’ they are? I don’t see any call fer sech all-fired fuss as
+      you’re makin’. Stewart, I calkilate you’re some stuck on your new job an’
+      want to make a big show before—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hawe, stop slinging that kind of talk,” interrupted Stewart. “You got too
+      free with your mouth once before! Now here, I’m supposed to be consulting
+      an officer of the law. Will you take charge of these contraband goods?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Say, you’re holdin’ on high an’ mighty,” replied Hawe, in astonishment
+      that was plainly pretended. “What ‘re you drivin’ at?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart muttered an imprecation. He took several swift strides across the
+      porch; he held out his hands to Stillwell as if to indicate the
+      hopelessness of intelligent and reasonable arbitration; he looked at
+      Madeline with a glance eloquent of his regret that he could not handle the
+      situation to please her. Then as he wheeled he came face to face with
+      Nels, who had slipped forward out of the crowd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline gathered serious import from the steel-blue meaning flash of eyes
+      whereby Nels communicated something to Stewart. Whatever that something
+      was, it dispelled Stewart’s impatience. A slight movement of his hand
+      brought Monty Price forward with a jump. In these sudden jumps of Monty’s
+      there was a suggestion of restrained ferocity. Then Nels and Monty lined
+      up behind Stewart. It was a deliberate action, even to Madeline,
+      unmistakably formidable. Pat Hawe’s face took on an ugly look; his eyes
+      had a reddish gleam. Don Carlos added a pale face and extreme nervousness
+      to his former expressions of agitation. The cowboys edged away from the
+      vaqueros and the bronzed, bearded horsemen who were evidently Hawe’s
+      assistants.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m driving at this,” spoke up Stewart, presently; and now he was slow
+      and caustic. “Here’s contraband of war! Hawe, do you get that? Arms and
+      ammunition for the rebels across the border! I charge you as an officer to
+      confiscate these goods and to arrest the smuggler—Don Carlos.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These words of Stewart’s precipitated a riot among Don Carlos and his
+      followers, and they surged wildly around the sheriff. There was an
+      upflinging of brown, clenching hands, a shrill, jabbering babel of Mexican
+      voices. The crowd around Don Carlos grew louder and denser with the
+      addition of armed vaqueros and barefooted stable-boys and dusty-booted
+      herdsmen and blanketed Mexicans, the last of whom suddenly slipped from
+      doors and windows and round comers. It was a motley assemblage. The laced,
+      fringed, ornamented vaqueros presented a sharp contrast to the
+      bare-legged, sandal-footed boys and the ragged herders. Shrill cries,
+      evidently from Don Carlos, somewhat quieted the commotion. Then Don Carlos
+      could be heard addressing Sheriff Hawe in an exhortation of mingled
+      English and Spanish. He denied, he avowed, he proclaimed, and all in
+      rapid, passionate utterance. He tossed his black hair in his vehemence; he
+      waved his fists and stamped the floor; he rolled his glittering eyes; he
+      twisted his thin lips into a hundred different shapes, and like a cornered
+      wolf showed snarling white teeth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to Madeline that Don Carlos denied knowledge of the boxes of
+      contraband goods, then knowledge of their real contents, then knowledge of
+      their destination, and, finally, everything except that they were there in
+      sight, damning witnesses to somebody’s complicity in the breaking of
+      neutrality laws. Passionate as had been his denial of all this, it was as
+      nothing compared to his denunciation of Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senor Stewart, he keel my Vaquero!” shouted Don Carlos, as, sweating and
+      spent, he concluded his arraignment of the cowboy. “Him you must arrest!
+      Senor Stewart a bad man! He keel my vaquero!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Do you hear thet?” yelled Hawe. “The Don’s got you figgered fer thet
+      little job at El Cajon last fall.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The clamor burst into a roar. Hawe began shaking his finger in Stewart’s
+      face and hoarsely shouting. Then a lithe young vaquero, swift as an
+      Indian, glided under Hawe’s uplifted arm. Whatever the action he intended,
+      he was too late for its execution. Stewart lunged out, struck the vaquero,
+      and knocked him off the porch. As he fell a dagger glittered in the
+      sunlight and rolled clinking over the stones. The man went down hard and
+      did not move. With the same abrupt violence, and a manner of contempt,
+      Stewart threw Hawe off the porch, then Don Carlos, who, being less supple,
+      fell heavily. Then the mob backed before Stewart’s rush until all were
+      down in the courtyard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The shuffling of feet ceased, the clanking of spurs, and the shouting.
+      Nels and Monty, now reinforced by Nick Steele, were as shadows of Stewart,
+      so closely did they follow him. Stewart waved them back and stepped down
+      into the yard. He was absolutely fearless; but what struck Madeline so
+      keenly was his magnificent disdain. Manifestly, he knew the nature of the
+      men with whom he was dealing. From the look of him it was natural for
+      Madeline to expect them to give way before him, which they did, even Hawe
+      and his attendants sullenly retreating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Don Carlos got up to confront Stewart. The prostrate vaquero stirred and
+      moaned, but did not rise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You needn’t jibber Spanish to me,” said Stewart. “You can talk American,
+      and you can understand American. If you start a rough-house here you and
+      your Greasers will be cleaned up. You’ve got to leave this ranch. You can
+      have the stock, the packs and traps in the second corral. There’s grub,
+      too. Saddle up and hit the trail. Don Carlos, I’m dealing more than square
+      with you. You’re lying about these boxes of guns and cartridges. You’re
+      breaking the laws of my country, and you’re doing it on property in my
+      charge. If I let smuggling go on here I’d be implicated myself. Now you
+      get off the range. If you don’t I’ll have the United States cavalry here
+      in six hours, and you can gamble they’ll get what my cowboys leave of
+      you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Don Carlos was either a capital actor and gratefully relieved at Stewart’s
+      leniency or else he was thoroughly cowed by references to the troops. “Si,
+      Senor! Gracias, Senor!” he exclaimed; and then, turning away, he called to
+      his men. They hurried after him, while the fallen vaquero got to his feet
+      with Stewart’s help and staggered across the courtyard. In a moment they
+      were gone, leaving Hawe and his several comrades behind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hawe was spitefully ejecting a wad of tobacco from his mouth and swearing
+      in an undertone about “white-livered Greasers.” He cocked his red eye
+      speculatively at Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I reckon as you’re so hell-bent on doin’ it up brown thet you’ll try
+      to fire me off’n the range, too?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “If I ever do, Pat, you’ll need to be carried off,” replied Stewart. “Just
+      now I’m politely inviting you and your deputy sheriffs to leave.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “We’ll go; but we’re comin’ back one of these days, an’ when we do we’ll
+      put you in irons.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hawe, if you’ve got it in that bad for me, come over here in the corral
+      and let’s fight it out.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m an officer, an’ I don’t fight outlaws an’ sich except when I hev to
+      make arrests.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Officer! You’re a disgrace to the county. If you ever did get irons on me
+      you’d take me some place out of sight, shoot me, and then swear you killed
+      me in self-defense. It wouldn’t be the first time you pulled that trick,
+      Pat Hawe.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ho, ho!” laughed Hawe, derisively. Then he started toward the horses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart’s long arm shot out, his hand clapped on Hawe’s shoulder, spinning
+      him round like a top.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You’re leaving, Pat, but before you leave you’ll come out with your play
+      or you’ll crawl,” said Stewart. “You’ve got it in for me, man to man.
+      Speak up now and prove you’re not the cowardly skunk I’ve always thought
+      you. I’ve called your hand.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Pat Hawe’s face turned a blackish-purple hue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You can jest bet thet I’ve got it in fer you,” he shouted, hoarsely.
+      “You’re only a low-down cow-puncher. You never hed a dollar or a decent
+      job till you was mixed up with thet Hammond woman—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart’s hand flashed out and hit Hawe’s face in a ringing slap. The
+      sheriff’s head jerked back, his sombrero fell to the ground. As he bent
+      over to reach it his hand shook, his arm shook, his whole body shook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty Price jumped straight forward and crouched down with a strange, low
+      cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart seemed all at once rigid, bending a little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Say Miss Hammond, if there’s occasion to use her name,” said Stewart, in
+      a voice that seemed coolly pleasant, yet had a deadly undernote.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hawe did a moment’s battle with strangling fury, which he conquered in
+      some measure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I said you was a low-down, drunken cow-puncher, a tough as damn near a
+      desperado as we ever hed on the border,” went on Hawe, deliberately. His
+      speech appeared to be addressed to Stewart, although his flame-pointed
+      eyes were riveted upon Monty Price. “I know you plugged that vaquero last
+      fall, an’ when I git my proof I’m comin’ after you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “That’s all right, Hawe. You can call me what you like, and you can come
+      after me when you like,” replied Stewart. “But you’re going to get in bad
+      with me. You’re in bad now with Monty and Nels. Pretty soon you’ll queer
+      yourself with all the cowboys and the ranchers, too. If that don’t put
+      sense into you—Here, listen to this. You knew what these boxes
+      contained. You know Don Carlos has been smuggling arms and ammunition
+      across the border. You know he is hand and glove with the rebels. You’ve
+      been wearing blinders, and it has been to your interest. Take a hunch from
+      me. That’s all. Light out now, and the less we see of your handsome mug
+      the better we’ll like you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Muttering, cursing, pallid of face, Hawe climbed astride his horse. His
+      comrades followed suit. Certain it appeared that the sheriff was
+      contending with more than fear and wrath. He must have had an irresistible
+      impulse to fling more invective and threat upon Stewart, but he was
+      speechless. Savagely he spurred his horse, and as it snorted and leaped he
+      turned in his saddle, shaking his fist. His comrades led the way, with
+      their horses clattering into a canter. They disappeared through the gate.
+    </p>
+<div class='pre'>
+    *       *       *
+</div>
+    <p>
+      When, later in the day, Madeline and Florence, accompanied by Alfred and
+      Stillwell, left Don Carlos’s ranch it was not any too soon for Madeline.
+      The inside of the Mexican’s home was more unprepossessing and
+      uncomfortable than the outside. The halls were dark, the rooms huge,
+      empty, and musty; and there was an air of silence and secrecy and mystery
+      about them most fitting to the character Florence had bestowed upon the
+      place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the other hand, Alfred’s ranch-house, where the party halted to spend
+      the night, was picturesquely located, small and cozy, camplike in its
+      arrangement, and altogether agreeable to Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The day’s long rides and the exciting events had wearied her. She rested
+      while Florence and the two men got supper. During the meal Stillwell
+      expressed satisfaction over the good riddance of the vaqueros, and with
+      his usual optimism trusted he had seen the last of them. Alfred, too, took
+      a decidedly favorable view of the day’s proceedings. However, it was not
+      lost upon Madeline that Florence appeared unusually quiet and thoughtful.
+      Madeline wondered a little at the cause. She remembered that Stewart had
+      wanted to come with them, or detail a few cowboys to accompany them, but
+      Alfred had laughed at the idea and would have none of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After supper Alfred monopolized the conversation by describing what he
+      wanted to do to improve his home before he and Florence were married.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then at an early hour they all retired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s deep slumbers were disturbed by a pounding upon the wall, and
+      then by Florence’s crying out in answer to a call:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Get up! Throw some clothes on and come out!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Alfred’s voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What’s the matter?” asked Florence, as she slipped out of bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Alfred, is there anything wrong?” added Madeline, sitting up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The room was dark as pitch, but a faint glow seemed to mark the position
+      of the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, nothing much,” replied Alfred. “Only Don Carlos’s rancho going up in
+      smoke.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Fire!” cried Florence, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You’ll think so when you see it. Hurry out. Majesty, old girl, now you
+      won’t have to tear down that heap of adobe, as you threatened. I don’t
+      believe a wall will stand after that fire.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, I’m glad of it,” said Madeline. “A good healthy fire will purify
+      the atmosphere over there and save me expense. Ugh! that haunted rancho
+      got on my nerves! Florence, I do believe you’ve appropriated part of my
+      riding-habit. Doesn’t Alfred have lights in this house?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence laughingly helped Madeline to dress. Then they hurriedly stumbled
+      over chairs, and, passing through the dining-room, went out upon the
+      porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Away to the westward, low down along the horizon, she saw leaping red
+      flames and wind-swept columns of smoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell appeared greatly perturbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Al, I’m lookin’ fer that ammunition to blow up,” he said. “There was
+      enough of it to blow the roof off the rancho.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, surely the cowboys would get that stuff out the first thing,”
+       replied Alfred, anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon so. But all the same, I’m worryin’. Mebbe there wasn’t time.
+      Supposin’ thet powder went off as the boys was goin’ fer it or carryin’ it
+      out! We’ll know soon. If the explosion doesn’t come quick now we can
+      figger the boys got the boxes out.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For the next few moments there was a silence of sustained and painful
+      suspense. Florence gripped Madeline’s arm. Madeline felt a fullness in her
+      throat and a rapid beating of her heart. Presently she was relieved with
+      the others when Stillwell declared the danger of an explosion needed to be
+      feared no longer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sure you can gamble on Gene Stewart,” he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The night happened to be partly cloudy, with broken rifts showing the
+      moon, and the wind blew unusually strong. The brightness of the fire
+      seemed subdued. It was like a huge bonfire smothered by some great
+      covering, penetrated by different, widely separated points of flame. These
+      corners of flame flew up, curling in the wind, and then died down. Thus
+      the scene was constantly changing from dull light to dark. There came a
+      moment when a blacker shade overspread the wide area of flickering gleams
+      and then obliterated them. Night enfolded the scene. The moon peeped a
+      curved yellow rim from under broken clouds. To all appearances the fire
+      had burned itself out. But suddenly a pinpoint of light showed where all
+      had been dense black. It grew and became long and sharp. It moved. It had
+      life. It leaped up. Its color warmed from white to red. Then from all
+      about it burst flame on flame, to leap into a great changing pillar of
+      fire that climbed high and higher. Huge funnels of smoke, yellow, black,
+      white, all tinged with the color of fire, slanted skyward, drifting away
+      on the wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I reckon we won’t hev the good of them two thousand tons of alfalfa
+      we was figgerin’ on,” remarked Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ah! Then that last outbreak of fire was burning hay,” said Madeline. “I
+      do not regret the rancho. But it’s too bad to lose such a quantity of good
+      feed for the stock.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It’s lost, an’ no mistake. The fire’s dyin’ as quick as she flared up.
+      Wal, I hope none of the boys got risky to save a saddle or blanket. Monty—he’s
+      hell on runnin’ the gantlet of fire. He’s like a hoss that’s jest been
+      dragged out of a burnin’ stable an’ runs back sure locoed. There! She’s
+      smolderin’ down now. Reckon we-all might jest as well turn in again. It’s
+      only three o’clock.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I wonder how the fire originated?” remarked Alfred. “Some careless
+      cowboy’s cigarette, I’ll bet.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell rolled out his laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Al, you sure are a free-hearted, trustin’ feller. I’m some doubtin’ the
+      cigarette idee; but you can gamble if it was a cigarette it belonged to a
+      cunnin’ vaquero, an’ wasn’t dropped accident-like.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Now, Bill, you don’t mean Don Carlos burned the rancho?” ejaculated
+      Alfred, in mingled amaze and anger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the old cattleman laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Powerful strange to say, my friend, ole Bill means jest thet.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Of course Don Carlos set that fire,” put in Florence, with spirit. “Al,
+      if you live out heah a hundred years you’ll never learn that Greasers are
+      treacherous. I know Gene Stewart suspected something underhand. That’s why
+      he wanted us to hurry away. That’s why he put me on the black horse of Don
+      Carlos’s. He wants that horse for himself, and feared the Don would steal
+      or shoot him. And you, Bill Stillwell, you’re as bad as Al. You never
+      distrust anybody till it’s too late. You’ve been singing ever since
+      Stewart ordered the vaqueros off the range. But you sure haven’t been
+      thinking.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, now, Flo, you needn’t pitch into me jest because I hev a natural
+      Christian spirit,” replied Stillwell, much aggrieved. “I reckon I’ve hed
+      enough trouble in my life so’s not to go lookin’ fer more. Wal, I’m sorry
+      about the hay burnin’. But mebbe the boys saved the stock. An’ as fer that
+      ole adobe house of dark holes an’ under-ground passages, so long’s Miss
+      Majesty doesn’t mind, I’m darn glad it burned. Come, let’s all turn in
+      again. Somebody’ll ride over early an’ tell us what’s what.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline awakened early, but not so early as the others, who were up and
+      had breakfast ready when she went into the dining-room. Stillwell was not
+      in an amiable frame of mind. The furrows of worry lined his broad brow and
+      he continually glanced at his watch, and growled because the cowboys were
+      so late in riding over with the news. He gulped his breakfast, and while
+      Madeline and the others ate theirs he tramped up and down the porch.
+      Madeline noted that Alfred grew nervous and restless. Presently he left
+      the table to join Stillwell outside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “They’ll slope off to Don Carlos’s rancho and leave us to ride home
+      alone,” observed Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Do you mind?” questioned Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No, I don’t exactly mind; we’ve got the fastest horses in this country.
+      I’d like to run that big black devil off his legs. No, I don’t mind; but
+      I’ve no hankering for a situation Gene Stewart thinks—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence began disconnectedly, and she ended evasively. Madeline did not
+      press the point, although she had some sense of misgiving. Stillwell
+      tramped in, shaking the floor with his huge boots; Alfred followed him,
+      carrying a field-glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Not a hoss in sight,” complained Stillwell. “Some-thin’ wrong over Don
+      Carlos’s way. Miss Majesty, it’ll be jest as well fer you an’ Flo to hit
+      the home trail. We can telephone over an’ see that the boys know you’re
+      comin’.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred, standing in the door, swept the gray valley with his field-glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, I see running stock-horses or cattle; I can’t make out which. I
+      guess we’d better rustle over there.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both men hurried out, and while the horses were being brought up and
+      saddled Madeline and Florence put away the breakfast-dishes, then speedily
+      donned spurs, sombreros, and gauntlets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Here are the horses ready,” called Alfred. “Flo, that black Mexican horse
+      is a prince.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girls went out in time to hear Stillwell’s good-by as he mounted and
+      spurred away. Alfred went through the motions of assisting Madeline and
+      Florence to mount, which assistance they always flouted, and then he, too,
+      swung up astride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I guess it’s all right,” he said, rather dubiously. “You really must not
+      go over toward Don Carlos’s. It’s only a few miles home.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sure it’s all right. We can ride, can’t we?” retorted Florence. “Better
+      have a care for yourself, going off over there to mix in goodness knows
+      what.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred said good-by, spurred his horse, and rode away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “If Bill didn’t forget to telephone!” exclaimed Florence. “I declare he
+      and Al were sure rattled.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence dismounted and went into the house. She left the door open.
+      Madeline had some difficulty in holding Majesty. It struck Madeline that
+      Florence stayed rather long indoors. Presently she came out with sober
+      face and rather tight lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I couldn’t get anybody on the ’phone. No answer. I tried a dozen times.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why, Florence!” Madeline was more concerned by the girl’s looks than by
+      the information she imparted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “The wire’s been cut,” said Florence. Her gray glance swept swiftly after
+      Alfred, who was now far out of earshot. “I don’t like this a little bit.
+      Heah’s where I’ve got to ‘figger,’ as Bill says.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She pondered a moment, then hurried into the house, to return presently
+      with the field-glass that Alfred had used. With this she took a survey of
+      the valley, particularly in the direction of Madeline’s ranch-house. This
+      was hidden by low, rolling ridges which were quite close by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Anyway, nobody in that direction can see us leave heah,” she mused.
+      “There’s mesquite on the ridges. We’ve got cover long enough to save us
+      till we can see what’s ahead.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Florence, what—what do you expect?” asked Madeline, nervously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I don’t know. There’s never any telling about Greasers. I wish Bill and
+      Al hadn’t left us. Still, come to think of that, they couldn’t help us
+      much in case of a chase. We’d run right away from them. Besides, they’d
+      shoot. I guess I’m as well as satisfied that we’ve got the job of getting
+      home on our own hands. We don’t dare follow Al toward Don Carlos’s ranch.
+      We know there’s trouble over there. So all that’s left is to hit the trail
+      for home. Come, let’s ride. You stick like a Spanish needle to me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A heavy growth of mesquite covered the top of the first ridge, and the
+      trail went through it. Florence took the lead, proceeding cautiously, and
+      as soon as she could see over the summit she used the field-glass. Then
+      she went on. Madeline, following closely, saw down the slope of the ridge
+      to a bare, wide, grassy hollow, and onward to more rolling land, thick
+      with cactus and mesquite. Florence appeared cautious, deliberate, yet she
+      lost no time. She was ominously silent. Madeline’s misgivings took
+      definite shape in the fear of vaqueros in ambush.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the ascent of the third ridge, which Madeline remembered was the last
+      uneven ground between the point she had reached and home, Florence
+      exercised even more guarded care in advancing. Before she reached the top
+      of this ridge she dismounted, looped her bridle round a dead snag, and,
+      motioning Madeline to wait, she slipped ahead through the mesquite out of
+      sight. Madeline waited, anxiously listening and watching. Certain it was
+      that she could not see or hear anything alarming. The sun began to have a
+      touch of heat; the morning breeze rustled the thin mesquite foliage; the
+      deep magenta of a cactus flower caught her eye; a long-tailed,
+      cruel-beaked, brown bird sailed so close to her she could have touched it
+      with her whip. But she was only vaguely aware of these things. She was
+      watching for Florence, listening for some sound fraught with untoward
+      meaning. All of a sudden she saw Majesty’s ears were held straight up.
+      Then Florence’s face, now strangely white, showed round the turn of the
+      trail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “’S-s-s-sh!” whispered Florence, holding up a warning finger. She reached
+      the black horse and petted him, evidently to still an uneasiness he
+      manifested. “We’re in for it,” she went on. “A whole bunch of vaqueros
+      hiding among the mesquite over the ridge! They’ve not seen or heard us
+      yet. We’d better risk riding ahead, cut off the trail, and beat them to
+      the ranch. Madeline, you’re white as death! Don’t faint now!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I shall not faint. But you frighten me. Is there danger? What shall we
+      do?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “There’s danger. Madeline, I wouldn’t deceive you,” went on Florence, in
+      an earnest whisper. “Things have turned out just as Gene Stewart hinted.
+      Oh, we should—Al should have listened to Gene! I believe—I’m
+      afraid Gene knew!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Knew what?” asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Never mind now. Listen. We daren’t take the back trail. We’ll go on. I’ve
+      a scheme to fool that grinning Don Carlos. Get down, Madeline—hurry.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline dismounted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Give me your white sweater. Take it off—And that white hat! Hurry,
+      Madeline.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Florence, what on earth do you mean?” cried Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Not so loud,” whispered the other. Her gray eyes snapped. She had
+      divested herself of sombrero and jacket, which she held out to Madeline.
+      “Heah. Take these. Give me yours. Then get up on the black. I’ll ride
+      Majesty. Rustle now, Madeline. This is no time to talk.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “But, dear, why—why do you want—? Ah! You’re going to make the
+      vaqueros take you for me!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You guessed it. Will you—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I shall not allow you to do anything of the kind,” returned Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was then that Florence’s face, changing, took on the hard, stern
+      sharpness so typical of a cowboy’s. Madeline had caught glimpses of that
+      expression in Alfred’s face, and on Stewart’s when he was silent, and on
+      Stillwell’s always. It was a look of iron and fire—unchangeable,
+      unquenchable will. There was even much of violence in the swift action
+      whereby Florence compelled Madeline to the change of apparel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It ’d been my idea, anyhow, if Stewart hadn’t told me to do it,” said
+      Florence, her words as swift as her hands. “Don Carlos is after you—you,
+      Miss Madeline Hammond! He wouldn’t ambush a trail for any one else. He’s
+      not killing cowboys these days. He wants you for some reason. So Gene
+      thought, and now I believe him. Well, we’ll know for sure in five minutes.
+      You ride the black; I’ll ride Majesty. We’ll slip round through the brush,
+      out of sight and sound, till we can break out into the open. Then we’ll
+      split. You make straight for the ranch. I’ll cut loose for the valley
+      where Gene said positively the cowboys were with the cattle. The vaqueros
+      will take me for you. They all know those striking white things you wear.
+      They’ll chase me. They’ll never get anywhere near me. And you’ll be on a
+      fast horse. He can take you home ahead of any vaqueros. But you won’t be
+      chased. I’m staking all on that. Trust me, Madeline. If it were only my
+      calculation, maybe I’d—It’s because I remember Stewart. That cowboy
+      knows things. Come, this heah’s the safest and smartest way to fool Don
+      Carlos.” Madeline felt herself more forced than persuaded into
+      acquiescence. She mounted the black and took up the bridle. In another
+      moment she was guiding her horse off the trail in the tracks of Majesty.
+      Florence led off at right angles, threading a slow passage through the
+      mesquite. She favored sandy patches and open aisles between the trees, and
+      was careful not to break a branch. Often she stopped to listen. This
+      detour of perhaps half a mile brought Madeline to where she could see open
+      ground, the ranch-house only a few miles off, and the cattle dotting the
+      valley. She had not lost her courage, but it was certain that these
+      familiar sights somewhat lightened the pressure upon her breast.
+      Excitement gripped her. The shrill whistle of a horse made both the black
+      and Majesty jump. Florence quickened the gait down the slope. Soon
+      Madeline saw the edge of the brush, the gray-bleached grass and level
+      ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence waited at the opening between the low trees. She gave Madeline a
+      quick, bright glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “All over but the ride! That’ll sure be easy. Bolt now and keep your
+      nerve!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Florence wheeled the fiery roan and screamed in his ear Madeline
+      seemed suddenly to grow lax and helpless. The big horse leaped into
+      thundering action. This was memorable of Bonita of the flying hair and the
+      wild night ride. Florence’s hair streamed on the wind and shone gold in
+      the sunlight. Yet Madeline saw her with the same thrill with which she had
+      seen the wild-riding Bonita. Then hoarse shouts unclamped Madeline’s power
+      of movement, and she spurred the black into the open.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He wanted to run and he was swift. Madeline loosened the reins—laid
+      them loose upon his neck. His action was strange to her. He was hard to
+      ride. But he was fast, and she cared for nothing else. Madeline knew
+      horses well enough to realize that the black had found he was free and
+      carrying a light weight. A few times she took up the bridle and pulled to
+      right or left, trying to guide him. He kept a straight course, however,
+      and crashed through small patches of mesquite and jumped the cracks and
+      washes. Uneven ground offered no perceptible obstacle to his running. To
+      Madeline there was now a thrilling difference in the lash of wind and the
+      flash of the gray ground underneath. She was running away from something;
+      what that was she did not know. But she remembered Florence, and she
+      wanted to look back, yet hated to do so for fear of the nameless danger
+      Florence had mentioned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline listened for the pounding of pursuing hoofs in her rear.
+      Involuntarily she glanced back. On the mile or more of gray level between
+      her and the ridge there was not a horse, a man, or anything living. She
+      wheeled to look back on the other side, down the valley slope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sight of Florence riding Majesty in zigzag flight before a whole troop
+      of vaqueros blanched Madeline’s cheek and made her grip the pommel of her
+      saddle in terror. That strange gait of her roan was not his wonderful
+      stride. Could Majesty be running wild? Madeline saw one vaquero draw
+      closer, whirling his lasso round his head, but he did not get near enough
+      to throw. So it seemed to Madeline. Another vaquero swept across in front
+      of the first one. Then, when Madeline gasped in breathless expectancy, the
+      roan swerved to elude the attack. It flashed over Madeline that Florence
+      was putting the horse to some such awkward flight as might have been
+      expected of an Eastern girl frightened out of her wits. Madeline made sure
+      of this when, after looking again, she saw that Florence, in spite of the
+      horse’s breaking gait and the irregular course, was drawing slowly and
+      surely down the valley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had not lost her head to the extent of forgetting her own mount
+      and the nature of the ground in front. When, presently, she turned again
+      to watch Florence, uncertainty ceased in her mind. The strange features of
+      that race between girl and vaqueros were no longer in evidence. Majesty
+      was in his beautiful, wonderful stride, low down along the ground,
+      stretching, with his nose level and straight for the valley. Between him
+      and the lean horses in pursuit lay an ever-increasing space. He was
+      running away from the vaqueros. Florence was indeed “riding the wind,” as
+      Stewart had aptly expressed his idea of flight upon the fleet roan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A dimness came over Madeline’s eyes, and it was not all owing to the sting
+      of the wind. She rubbed it away, seeing Florence as a flying dot in a
+      strange blur. What a daring, intrepid girl! This kind of strength—and
+      aye, splendid thought for a weaker sister—was what the West
+      inculcated in a woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next time Madeline looked back Florence was far ahead of her pursuers
+      and going out of sight behind a low knoll. Assured of Florence’s safety,
+      Madeline put her mind to her own ride and the possibilities awaiting at
+      the ranch. She remembered the failure to get any of her servants or
+      cowboys on the telephone. To be sure, a wind-storm had once broken the
+      wire. But she had little real hope of such being the case in this
+      instance. She rode on, pulling the black as she neared the ranch. Her
+      approach was from the south and off the usual trail, so that she went up
+      the long slope of the knoll toward the back of the house. Under these
+      circumstances she could not consider it out of the ordinary that she did
+      not see any one about the grounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was perhaps fortunate for her, she thought, that the climb up the slope
+      cut the black’s speed so she could manage him. He was not very hard to
+      stop. The moment she dismounted, however, he jumped and trotted off. At
+      the edge of the slope, facing the corrals, he halted to lift his head and
+      shoot up his ears. Then he let out a piercing whistle and dashed down the
+      lane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, prepared by that warning whistle, tried to fortify herself for a
+      new and unexpected situation; but as she espied an unfamiliar company of
+      horsemen rapidly riding down a hollow leading from the foothills she felt
+      the return of fears gripping at her like cold hands, and she fled
+      precipitously into the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XI. A Band of Guerrillas
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      Madeline bolted the door, and, flying into the kitchen, she told the
+      scared servants to shut themselves in. Then she ran to her own rooms. It
+      was only a matter of a few moments for her to close and bar the heavy
+      shutters, yet even as she was fastening the last one in the room she used
+      as an office a clattering roar of hoofs seemed to swell up to the front of
+      the house. She caught a glimpse of wild, shaggy horses and ragged, dusty
+      men. She had never seen any vaqueros that resembled these horsemen.
+      Vaqueros had grace and style; they were fond of lace and glitter and
+      fringe; they dressed their horses in silvered trappings. But the riders
+      now trampling into the driveway were uncouth, lean, savage. They were
+      guerrillas, a band of the raiders who had been harassing the border since
+      the beginning of the revolution. A second glimpse assured Madeline that
+      they were not all Mexicans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The presence of outlaws in that band brought home to Madeline her real
+      danger. She remembered what Stillwell had told her about recent outlaw
+      raids along the Rio Grande. These flying bands, operating under the
+      excitement of the revolution, appeared here and there, everywhere, in
+      remote places, and were gone as quickly as they came. Mostly they wanted
+      money and arms, but they would steal anything, and unprotected women had
+      suffered at their hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, hurriedly collecting her securities and the considerable money
+      she had in her desk, ran out, closed and locked the door, crossed the
+      patio to the opposite side of the house, and, entering again, went down a
+      long corridor, trying to decide which of the many unused rooms would be
+      best to hide in. And before she made up her mind she came to the last
+      room. Just then a battering on door or window in the direction of the
+      kitchen and shrill screams from the servant women increased Madeline’s
+      alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She entered the last room. There was no lock or bar upon the door. But the
+      room was large and dark, and it was half full of bales of alfalfa hay.
+      Probably it was the safest place in the house; at least time would be
+      necessary to find any one hidden there. She dropped her valuables in a
+      dark corner and covered them with loose hay. That done, she felt her way
+      down a narrow aisle between the piled-up bales and presently crouched in a
+      niche.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With the necessity of action over for the immediate present, Madeline
+      became conscious that she was quivering and almost breathless. Her skin
+      felt tight and cold. There was a weight on her chest; her mouth was dry,
+      and she had a strange tendency to swallow. Her listening faculty seemed
+      most acute. Dull sounds came from parts of the house remote from her. In
+      the intervals of silence between these sounds she heard the squeaking and
+      rustling of mice in the hay. A mouse ran over her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She listened, waiting, hoping yet dreading to hear the clattering approach
+      of her cowboys. There would be fighting—blood—men injured,
+      perhaps killed. Even the thought of violence of any kind hurt her. But
+      perhaps the guerrillas would run in time to avoid a clash with her men.
+      She hoped for that, prayed for it. Through her mind flitted what she knew
+      of Nels, of Monty, of Nick Steele; and she experienced a sensation that
+      left her somewhat chilled and sick. Then she thought of the dark-browed,
+      fire-eyed Stewart. She felt a thrill drive away the cold nausea. And her
+      excitement augmented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Waiting, listening increased all her emotions. Nothing appeared to be
+      happening. Yet hours seemed to pass while she crouched there. Had Florence
+      been overtaken? Could any of those lean horses outrun Majesty? She doubted
+      it; she knew it could not be true. Nevertheless, the strain of uncertainty
+      was torturing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the bang of the corridor door pierced her through and through
+      with the dread of uncertainty. Some of the guerrillas had entered the east
+      wing of the house. She heard a babel of jabbering voices, the shuffling of
+      boots and clinking of spurs, the slamming of doors and ransacking of
+      rooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline lost faith in her hiding-place. Moreover, she found it impossible
+      to take the chance. The idea of being caught in that dark room by those
+      ruffians filled her with horror. She must get out into the light. Swiftly
+      she rose and went to the window. It was rather more of a door than window,
+      being a large aperture closed by two wooden doors on hinges. The iron hook
+      yielded readily to her grasp, and one door stuck fast, while the other
+      opened a few inches. She looked out upon a green slope covered with
+      flowers and bunches of sage and bushes. Neither man nor horse showed in
+      the narrow field of her vision. She believed she would be safer hidden out
+      there in the shrubbery than in the house. The jump from the window would
+      be easy for her. And with her quick decision came a rush and stir of
+      spirit that warded off her weakness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She pulled at the door. It did not budge. It had caught at the bottom.
+      Pulling with all her might proved to be in vain. Pausing, with palms hot
+      and bruised, she heard a louder, closer approach of the invaders of her
+      home. Fear, wrath, and impotence contested for supremacy over her and
+      drove her to desperation. She was alone here, and she must rely on
+      herself. And as she strained every muscle to move that obstinate door and
+      heard the quick, harsh voices of men and the sounds of a hurried search
+      she suddenly felt sure that they were hunting for her. She knew it. She
+      did not wonder at it. But she wondered if she were really Madeline
+      Hammond, and if it were possible that brutal men would harm her. Then the
+      tramping of heavy feet on the floor of the adjoining room lent her the
+      last strength of fear. Pushing with hands and shoulders, she moved the
+      door far enough to permit the passage of her body. Then she stepped up on
+      the sill and slipped through the aperture. She saw no one. Lightly she
+      jumped down and ran in among the bushes. But these did not afford her the
+      cover she needed. She stole from one clump to another, finding too late
+      that she had chosen with poor judgment. The position of the bushes had
+      drawn her closer to the front of the house rather than away from it, and
+      just before her were horses, and beyond a group of excited men. With her
+      heart in her throat Madeline crouched down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A shrill yell, followed by running and mounting guerrillas, roused her
+      hope. They had sighted the cowboys and were in flight. Rapid thumping of
+      boots on the porch told of men hurrying from the house. Several horses
+      dashed past her, not ten feet distant. One rider saw her, for he turned to
+      shout back. This drove Madeline into a panic. Hardly knowing what she did,
+      she began to run away from the house. Her feet seemed leaden. She felt the
+      same horrible powerlessness that sometimes came over her when she dreamed
+      of being pursued. Horses with shouting riders streaked past her in the
+      shrubbery. There was a thunder of hoofs behind her. She turned aside, but
+      the thundering grew nearer. She was being run down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Madeline shut her eyes and, staggering, was about to fall, apparently
+      right under pounding hoofs, a rude, powerful hand clapped round her waist,
+      clutched deep and strong, and swung her aloft. She felt a heavy blow when
+      the shoulder of the horse struck her, and then a wrenching of her arm as
+      she was dragged up. A sudden blighting pain made sight and feeling fade
+      from her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she did not become unconscious to the extent that she lost the sense
+      of being rapidly borne away. She seemed to hold that for a long time. When
+      her faculties began to return the motion of the horse was no longer
+      violent. For a few moments she could not determine her position.
+      Apparently she was upside down. Then she saw that she was facing the
+      ground, and must be lying across a saddle with her head hanging down. She
+      could not move a hand; she could not tell where her hands were. Then she
+      felt the touch of soft leather. She saw a high-topped Mexican boot,
+      wearing a huge silver spur, and the reeking flank and legs of a horse, and
+      a dusty, narrow trail. Soon a kind of red darkness veiled her eyes, her
+      head swam, and she felt motion and pain only dully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After what seemed a thousand weary hours some one lifted her from the
+      horse and laid her upon the ground, where, gradually, as the blood left
+      her head and she could see, she began to get the right relation of things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She lay in a sparse grove of firs, and the shadows told of late afternoon.
+      She smelled wood smoke, and she heard the sharp crunch of horses’ teeth
+      nipping grass. Voices caused her to turn her face. A group of men stood
+      and sat round a camp-fire eating like wolves. The looks of her captors
+      made Madeline close her eyes, and the fascination, the fear they roused in
+      her made her open them again. Mostly they were thin-bodied, thin-bearded
+      Mexicans, black and haggard and starved. Whatever they might be, they
+      surely were hunger-stricken and squalid. Not one had a coat. A few had
+      scarfs. Some wore belts in which were scattered cartridges. Only a few had
+      guns, and these were of diverse patterns. Madeline could see no packs, no
+      blankets, and only a few cooking-utensils, all battered and blackened. Her
+      eyes fastened upon men she believed were white men; but it was from their
+      features and not their color that she judged. Once she had seen a band of
+      nomad robbers in the Sahara, and somehow was reminded of them by this
+      motley outlaw troop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They divided attention between the satisfying of ravenous appetites and a
+      vigilant watching down the forest aisles. They expected some one, Madeline
+      thought, and, manifestly, if it were a pursuing posse, they did not show
+      anxiety. She could not understand more than a word here and there that
+      they uttered. Presently, however, the name of Don Carlos revived keen
+      curiosity in her and realization of her situation, and then once more
+      dread possessed her breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A low exclamation and a sweep of arm from one of the guerrillas caused the
+      whole band to wheel and concentrate their attention in the opposite
+      direction. They heard something. They saw some one. Grimy hands sought
+      weapons, and then every man stiffened. Madeline saw what hunted men looked
+      like at the moment of discovery, and the sight was terrible. She closed
+      her eyes, sick with what she saw, fearful of the moment when the guns
+      would leap out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were muttered curses, a short period of silence followed by
+      whisperings, and then a clear voice rang out, “El Capitan!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A strong shock vibrated through Madeline, and her eyelids swept open.
+      Instantly she associated the name El Capitan with Stewart and experienced
+      a sensation of strange regret. It was not pursuit or rescue she thought of
+      then, but death. These men would kill Stewart. But surely he had not come
+      alone. The lean, dark faces, corded and rigid, told her in what direction
+      to look. She heard the slow, heavy thump of hoofs. Soon into the wide
+      aisle between the trees moved the form of a man, arms flung high over his
+      head. Then Madeline saw the horse, and she recognized Majesty, and she
+      knew it was really Stewart who rode the roan. When doubt was no longer
+      possible she felt a suffocating sense of gladness and fear and wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Many of the guerrillas leaped up with drawn weapons. Still Stewart
+      approached with his hands high, and he rode right into the camp-fire
+      circle. Then a guerrilla, evidently the chief, waved down the threatening
+      men and strode up to Stewart. He greeted him. There was amaze and pleasure
+      and respect in the greeting. Madeline could tell that, though she did not
+      know what was said. At the moment Stewart appeared to her as cool and
+      careless as if he were dismounting at her porch steps. But when he got
+      down she saw that his face was white. He shook hands with the guerrilla,
+      and then his glittering eyes roved over the men and around the glade until
+      they rested upon Madeline. Without moving from his tracks he seemed to
+      leap, as if a powerful current had shocked him. Madeline tried to smile to
+      assure him she was alive and well; but the intent in his eyes, the power
+      of his controlled spirit telling her of her peril and his, froze the smile
+      on her lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With that he faced the chief and spoke rapidly in the Mexican jargon
+      Madeline had always found so difficult to translate. The chief answered,
+      spreading wide his hands, one of which indicated Madeline as she lay
+      there. Stewart drew the fellow a little aside and said something for his
+      ear alone. The chief’s hands swept up in a gesture of surprise and
+      acquiescence. Again Stewart spoke swiftly. His hearer then turned to
+      address the band. Madeline caught the words “Don Carlos” and “pesos.”
+       There was a brief muttering protest which the chief thundered down.
+      Madeline guessed her release had been given by this guerrilla and bought
+      from the others of the band.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart strode to her side, leading the roan. Majesty reared and snorted
+      when he saw his mistress prostrate. Stewart knelt, still holding the
+      bridle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Are you all right?” he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I think so,” she replied, essaying a laugh that was rather a failure. “My
+      feet are tied.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dark blood blotted out all the white from his face, and lightning shot
+      from his eyes. She felt his hands, like steel tongs, loosening the bonds
+      round her ankles. Without a word he lifted her upright and then upon
+      Majesty. Madeline reeled a little in the saddle, held hard to the pommel
+      with one hand, and tried to lean on Stewart’s shoulder with the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Don’t give up,” he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She saw him gaze furtively into the forest on all sides. And it surprised
+      her to see the guerrillas riding away. Putting the two facts together,
+      Madeline formed an idea that neither Stewart nor the others desired to
+      meet with some one evidently due shortly in the glade. Stewart guided the
+      roan off to the right and walked beside Madeline, steadying her in the
+      saddle. At first Madeline was so weak and dizzy that she could scarcely
+      retain her seat. The dizziness left her presently, and then she made an
+      effort to ride without help. Her weakness, however, and a pain in her
+      wrenched arm made the task laborsome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart had struck off the trail, if there were one, and was keeping to
+      denser parts of the forest. The sun sank low, and the shafts of gold fell
+      with a long slant among the firs. Majesty’s hoofs made no sound on the
+      soft ground, and Stewart strode on without speaking. Neither his hurry nor
+      vigilance relaxed until at least two miles had been covered. Then he held
+      to a straighter course and did not send so many glances into the darkening
+      woods. The level of the forest began to be cut up by little hollows, all
+      of which sloped and widened. Presently the soft ground gave place to bare,
+      rocky soil. The horse snorted and tossed his head. A sound of splashing
+      water broke the silence. The hollow opened into a wider one through which
+      a little brook murmured its way over the stones. Majesty snorted again and
+      stopped and bent his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “He wants a drink,” said Madeline. “I’m thirsty, too, and very tired.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart lifted her out of the saddle, and as their hands parted she felt
+      something moist and warm. Blood was running down her arm and into the palm
+      of her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m—bleeding,” she said, a little unsteadily. “Oh, I remember. My
+      arm was hurt.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She held it out, the blood making her conscious of her weakness. Stewart’s
+      fingers felt so firm and sure. Swiftly he ripped the wet sleeve. Her
+      forearm had been cut or scratched. He washed off the blood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why, Stewart, it’s nothing. I was only a little nervous. I guess that’s
+      the first time I ever saw my own blood.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made no reply as he tore her handkerchief into strips and bound her
+      arm. His swift motions and his silence gave her a hint of how he might
+      meet a more serious emergency. She felt safe. And because of that
+      impression, when he lifted his head and she saw that he was pale and
+      shaking, she was surprised. He stood before her folding his scarf, which
+      was still wet, and from which he made no effort to remove the red stains.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond,” he said, hoarsely, “it was a man’s hands—a Greaser’s
+      finger-nails—that cut your arm. I know who he was. I could have
+      killed him. But I mightn’t have got your freedom. You understand? I didn’t
+      dare.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline gazed at Stewart, astounded more by his speech than his excessive
+      emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “My dear boy!” she exclaimed. And then she paused. She could not find
+      words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was making an apology to her for not killing a man who had laid a rough
+      hand upon her person. He was ashamed and seemed to be in a torture that
+      she would not understand why he had not killed the man. There seemed to be
+      something of passionate scorn in him that he had not been able to avenge
+      her as well as free her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, I understand. You were being my kind of cowboy. I thank you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But she did not understand so much as she implied. She had heard many
+      stories of this man’s cool indifference to peril and death. He had always
+      seemed as hard as granite. Why should the sight of a little blood upon her
+      arm pale his cheek and shake his hand and thicken his voice? What was
+      there in his nature to make him implore her to see the only reason he
+      could not kill an outlaw? The answer to the first question was that he
+      loved her. It was beyond her to answer the second. But the secret of it
+      lay in the same strength from which his love sprang—an intensity of
+      feeling which seemed characteristic of these Western men of simple,
+      lonely, elemental lives. All at once over Madeline rushed a tide of
+      realization of how greatly it was possible for such a man as Stewart to
+      love her. The thought came to her in all its singular power. All her
+      Eastern lovers who had the graces that made them her equals in the sight
+      of the world were without the only great essential that a lonely, hard
+      life had given to Stewart. Nature here struck a just balance. Something
+      deep and dim in the future, an unknown voice, called to Madeline and
+      disturbed her. And because it was not a voice to her intelligence she
+      deadened the ears of her warm and throbbing life and decided never to
+      listen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Is it safe to rest a little?” she asked. “I am so tired. Perhaps I’ll be
+      stronger if I rest.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “We’re all right now,” he said. “The horse will be better, too. I ran him
+      out. And uphill, at that.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Where are we?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Up in the mountains, ten miles and more from the ranch. There’s a trail
+      just below here. I can get you home by midnight. They’ll be some worried
+      down there.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “What happened?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nothing much to any one but you. That’s the—the hard luck of it.
+      Florence caught us out on the slope. We were returning from the fire. We
+      were dead beat. But we got to the ranch before any damage was done. We
+      sure had trouble in finding a trace of you. Nick spotted the prints of
+      your heels under the window. And then we knew. I had to fight the boys. If
+      they’d come after you we’d never have gotten you without a fight. I didn’t
+      want that. Old Bill came out packing a dozen guns. He was crazy. I had to
+      rope Monty. Honest, I tied him to the porch. Nels and Nick promised to
+      stay and hold him till morning. That was the best I could do. I was sure
+      lucky to come up with the band so soon. I had figured right. I knew that
+      guerrilla chief. He’s a bandit in Mexico. It’s a business with him. But he
+      fought for Madero, and I was with him a good deal. He may be a Greaser,
+      but he’s white.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “How did you effect my release?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I offered them money. That’s what the rebels all want. They need money.
+      They’re a lot of poor, hungry devils.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I gathered that you offered to pay ransom. How much?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Two thousand dollars Mex. I gave my word. I’ll have to take the money. I
+      told them when and where I’d meet them.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Certainly. I’m glad I’ve got the money.” Madeline laughed. “What a
+      strange thing to happen to me! I wonder what dad would say to that?
+      Stewart, I’m afraid he’d say two thousand dollars is more than I’m worth.
+      But tell me. That rebel chieftain did not demand money?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No. The money is for his men.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “What did you say to him? I saw you whisper in his ear.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart dropped his head, averting her direct gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “We were comrades before Juarez. One day I dragged him out of a ditch. I
+      reminded him. Then I—I told him something I—I thought—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, I know from the way he looked at me that you spoke of me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her companion did not offer a reply to this, and Madeline did not press
+      the point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I heard Don Carlos’s name several times. That interests me. What have Don
+      Carlos and his vaqueros to do with this?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “That Greaser has all to do with it,” replied Stewart, grimly. “He burned
+      his ranch and corrals to keep us from getting them. But he also did it to
+      draw all the boys away from your home. They had a deep plot, all right. I
+      left orders for some one to stay with you. But Al and Stillwell, who’re
+      both hot-headed, rode off this morning. Then the guerrillas came down.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, what was the idea—the plot—as you call it?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “To get you,” he said, bluntly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Me! Stewart, you do not mean my capture—whatever you call it—was
+      anything more than mere accident?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I do mean that. But Stillwell and your brother think the guerrillas
+      wanted money and arms, and they just happened to make off with you because
+      you ran under a horse’s nose.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You do not incline to that point of view?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I don’t. Neither does Nels nor Nick Steele. And we know Don Carlos and
+      the Greasers. Look how the vaqueros chased Flo for you!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “What do you think, then?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’d rather not say.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “But, Stewart, I would like to know. If it is about me, surely I ought to
+      know,” protested Madeline. “What reason have Nels and Nick to suspect Don
+      Carlos of plotting to abduct me?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I suppose they’ve no reason you’d take. Once I heard Nels say he’d seen
+      the Greaser look at you, and if he ever saw him do it again he’d shoot
+      him.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why, Stewart, that is ridiculous. To shoot a man for looking at a woman!
+      This is a civilized country.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, maybe it would be ridiculous in a civilized country. There’s some
+      things about civilization I don’t care for.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “What, for instance?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “For one thing, I can’t stand for the way men let other men treat women.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “But, Stewart, this is strange talk from you, who, that night I came—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She broke off, sorry that she had spoken. His shame was not pleasant to
+      see. Suddenly he lifted his head, and she felt scorched by flaming eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Suppose I was drunk. Suppose I had met some ordinary girl. Suppose I had
+      really made her marry me. Don’t you think I would have stopped being a
+      drunkard and have been good to her?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, I do not know what to think about you,” replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then followed a short silence. Madeline saw the last bright rays of the
+      setting sun glide up over a distant crag. Stewart rebridled the horse and
+      looked at the saddle-girths.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I got off the trail. About Don Carlos I’ll say right out, not what Nels
+      and Nick think, but what I know. Don Carlos hoped to make off with you for
+      himself, the same as if you had been a poor peon slave-girl down in
+      Sonora. Maybe he had a deeper plot than my rebel friend told me. Maybe he
+      even went so far as to hope for American troops to chase him. The rebels
+      are trying to stir up the United States. They’d welcome intervention. But,
+      however that may be, the Greaser meant evil to you, and has meant it ever
+      since he saw you first. That’s all.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, you have done me and my family a service we can never hope to
+      repay.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’ve done the service. Only don’t mention pay to me. But there’s one
+      thing I’d like you to know, and I find it hard to say. It’s prompted,
+      maybe, by what I know you think of me and what I imagine your family and
+      friends would think if they knew. It’s not prompted by pride or conceit.
+      And it’s this: Such a woman as you should never have come to this
+      God-forsaken country unless she meant to forget herself. But as you did
+      come, and as you were dragged away by those devils, I want you to know
+      that all your wealth and position and influence—all that power
+      behind you—would never have saved you from hell to-night. Only such
+      a man as Nels or Nick Steele or I could have done that.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline Hammond felt the great leveling force of the truth. Whatever the
+      difference between her and Stewart, or whatever the imagined difference
+      set up by false standards of class and culture, the truth was that here on
+      this wild mountain-side she was only a woman and he was simply a man. It
+      was a man that she needed, and if her choice could have been considered in
+      this extremity it would have fallen upon him who had just faced her in
+      quiet, bitter speech. Here was food for thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon we’d better start now,” he said, and drew the horse close to a
+      large rock. “Come.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s will greatly exceeded her strength. For the first time she
+      acknowledged to herself that she had been hurt. Still, she did not feel
+      much pain except when she moved her shoulder. Once in the saddle, where
+      Stewart lifted her, she drooped weakly. The way was rough; every step the
+      horse took hurt her; and the slope of the ground threw her forward on the
+      pommel. Presently, as the slope grew rockier and her discomfort increased,
+      she forgot everything except that she was suffering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Here is the trail,” said Stewart, at length.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not far from that point Madeline swayed, and but for Stewart’s support
+      would have fallen from the saddle. She heard him swear under his breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Here, this won’t do,” he said. “Throw your leg over the pommel. The other
+      one—there.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, mounting, he slipped behind her and lifted and turned her, and then
+      held her with his left arm so that she lay across the saddle and his
+      knees, her head against his shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the horse started into a rapid walk Madeline gradually lost all pain
+      and discomfort when she relaxed her muscles. Presently she let herself go
+      and lay inert, greatly to her relief. For a little while she seemed to be
+      half drunk with the gentle swaying of a hammock. Her mind became at once
+      dreamy and active, as if it thoughtfully recorded the slow, soft
+      impressions pouring in from all her senses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A red glow faded in the west. She could see out over the foothills, where
+      twilight was settling gray on the crests, dark in the hollows. Cedar and
+      pinyon trees lined the trail, and there were no more firs. At intervals
+      huge drab-colored rocks loomed over her. The sky was clear and steely. A
+      faint star twinkled. And lastly, close to her, she saw Stewart’s face,
+      once more dark and impassive, with the inscrutable eyes fixed on the
+      trail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His arm, like a band of iron, held her, yet it was flexible and yielded
+      her to the motion of the horse. One instant she felt the brawn, the bone,
+      heavy and powerful; the next the stretch and ripple, the elasticity of
+      muscles. He held her as easily as if she were a child. The roughness of
+      his flannel shirt rubbed her cheek, and beneath that she felt the dampness
+      of the scarf he had used to bathe her arm, and deeper still the regular
+      pound of his heart. Against her ear, filling it with strong, vibrant beat,
+      his heart seemed a mighty engine deep within a great cavern. Her head had
+      never before rested on a man’s breast, and she had no liking for it there;
+      but she felt more than the physical contact. The position was mysterious
+      and fascinating, and something natural in it made her think of life. Then
+      as the cool wind blew down from the heights, loosening her tumbled hair,
+      she was compelled to see strands of it curl softly into Stewart’s face,
+      before his eyes, across his lips. She was unable to reach it with her free
+      hand, and therefore could not refasten it. And when she shut her eyes she
+      felt those loosened strands playing against his cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the keener press of such sensations she caught the smell of dust and a
+      faint, wild, sweet tang on the air. There was a low, rustling sigh of wind
+      in the brush along the trail. Suddenly the silence ripped apart to the
+      sharp bark of a coyote, and then, from far away, came a long wail. And
+      then Majesty’s metal-rimmed hoof rang on a stone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These later things lent probability to that ride for Madeline. Otherwise
+      it would have seemed like a dream. Even so it was hard to believe. Again
+      she wondered if this woman who had begun to think and feel so much was
+      Madeline Hammond. Nothing had ever happened to her. And here, playing
+      about her like her hair played about Stewart’s face, was adventure,
+      perhaps death, and surely life. She could not believe the evidence of the
+      day’s happenings. Would any of her people, her friends, ever believe it?
+      Could she tell it? How impossible to think that a cunning Mexican might
+      have used her to further the interests of a forlorn revolution. She
+      remembered the ghoulish visages of those starved rebels, and marveled at
+      her blessed fortune in escaping them. She was safe, and now
+      self-preservation had some meaning for her. Stewart’s arrival in the
+      glade, the courage with which he had faced the outlawed men, grew as real
+      to her now as the iron arm that clasped her. Had it been an instinct which
+      had importuned her to save this man when he lay ill and hopeless in the
+      shack at Chiricahua? In helping him had she hedged round her forces that
+      had just operated to save her life, or if not that, more than life was to
+      her? She believed so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline opened her eyes after a while and found that night had fallen.
+      The sky was a dark, velvety blue blazing with white stars. The cool wind
+      tugged at her hair, and through waving strands she saw Stewart’s profile,
+      bold and sharp against the sky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, as her mind succumbed to her bodily fatigue, again her situation
+      became unreal and wild. A heavy languor, like a blanket, began to steal
+      upon her. She wavered and drifted. With the last half-conscious sense of a
+      muffled throb at her ear, a something intangibly sweet, deep-toned, and
+      strange, like a distant calling bell, she fell asleep with her head on
+      Stewart’s breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XII. Friends from the East
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      Three days after her return to the ranch Madeline could not discover any
+      physical discomfort as a reminder of her adventurous experiences. This
+      surprised her, but not nearly so much as the fact that after a few weeks
+      she found she scarcely remembered the adventures at all. If it had not
+      been for the quiet and persistent guardianship of her cowboys she might
+      almost have forgotten Don Carlos and the raiders. Madeline was assured of
+      the splendid physical fitness to which this ranch life had developed her,
+      and that she was assimilating something of the Western disregard of
+      danger. A hard ride, an accident, a day in the sun and dust, an adventure
+      with outlaws—these might once have been matters of large import, but
+      now for Madeline they were in order with all the rest of her changed life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was never a day that something interesting was not brought to her
+      notice. Stillwell, who had ceaselessly reproached himself for riding away
+      the morning Madeline was captured, grew more like an anxious parent than a
+      faithful superintendent. He was never at ease regarding her unless he was
+      near the ranch or had left Stewart there, or else Nels and Nick Steele.
+      Naturally, he trusted more to Stewart than to any one else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, it’s sure amazin’ strange about Gene,” said the old
+      cattleman, as he tramped into Madeline’s office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What’s the matter now?” she inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Gene has rustled off into the mountains again.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Again? I did not know he had gone. I gave him money for that band of
+      guerrillas. Perhaps he went to take it to them.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No. He took that a day or so after he fetched you back home. Then in
+      about a week he went a second time. An’ he packed some stuff with him. Now
+      he’s sneaked off, an’ Nels, who was down to the lower trail, saw him meet
+      somebody that looked like Padre Marcos. Wal, I went down to the church,
+      and, sure enough, Padre Marcos is gone. What do you think of that, Miss
+      Majesty?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Maybe Stewart is getting religious,” laughed Madeline. You told me so
+      once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell puffed and wiped his red face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “If you’d heerd him cuss Monty this mawnin’ you’d never guess it was
+      religion. Monty an’ Nels hev been givin’ Gene a lot of trouble lately.
+      They’re both sore an’ in fightin’ mood ever since Don Carlos hed you
+      kidnapped. Sure they’re goin’ to break soon, an’ then we’ll hev a couple
+      of wild Texas steers ridin’ the range. I’ve a heap to worry me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Let Stewart take his mysterious trips into the mountains. Here,
+      Stillwell, I have news for you that may give you reason for worry. I have
+      letters from home. And my sister, with a party of friends, is coming out
+      to visit me. They are society folk, and one of them is an English lord.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Miss Majesty, I reckon we’ll all be glad to see them,” said
+      Stillwell. “Onless they pack you off back East.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “That isn’t likely,” replied Madeline, thoughtfully. “I must go back some
+      time, though. Well, let me read you a few extracts from my mail.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline took up her sister’s letter with a strange sensation of how
+      easily sight of a crested monogram and scent of delicately perfumed paper
+      could recall the brilliant life she had given up. She scanned the pages of
+      beautiful handwriting. Helen’s letter was in turn gay and brilliant and
+      lazy, just as she was herself; but Madeline detected more of curiosity in
+      it than of real longing to see the sister and brother in the Far West.
+      Much of what Helen wrote was enthusiastic anticipation of the fun she
+      expected to have with bashful cowboys. Helen seldom wrote letters, and she
+      never read anything, not even popular novels of the day. She was as
+      absolutely ignorant of the West as the Englishman, who, she said, expected
+      to hunt buffalo and fight Indians. Moreover, there was a satiric note in
+      the letter that Madeline did not like, and which roused her spirit.
+      Manifestly, Helen was reveling in the prospect of new sensation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she finished reading aloud a few paragraphs the old cattleman snorted
+      and his face grew redder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Did your sister write that?” he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I—I beg pawdin, Miss Majesty. But it doesn’t seem like you.
+      Does she think we’re a lot of wild men from Borneo?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Evidently she does. I rather think she is in for a surprise. Now,
+      Stillwell, you are clever and you can see the situation. I want my guests
+      to enjoy their stay here, but I do not want that to be at the expense of
+      the feelings of all of us, or even any one. Helen will bring a lively
+      crowd. They’ll crave excitement—the unusual. Let us see that they
+      are not disappointed. You take the boys into your confidence. Tell them
+      what to expect, and tell them how to meet it. I shall help you in that. I
+      want the boys to be on dress-parade when they are off duty. I want them to
+      be on their most elegant behavior. I do not care what they do, what
+      measures they take to protect themselves, what tricks they contrive, so
+      long as they do not overstep the limit of kindness and courtesy. I want
+      them to play their parts seriously, naturally, as if they had lived no
+      other way. My guests expect to have fun. Let us meet them with fun. Now
+      what do you say?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell rose, his great bulk towering, his huge face beaming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I say it’s the most amazin’ fine idee I ever heerd in my life.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Indeed, I am glad you like it,” went on Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Come to me again, Stillwell, after you have spoken to the boys. But, now
+      that I have suggested it, I am a little afraid. You know what cowboy fun
+      is. Perhaps—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Don’t you go back on that idee,” interrupted Stillwell. He was assuring
+      and bland, but his hurry to convince Madeline betrayed him. “Leave the
+      boys to me. Why, don’t they all swear by you, same as the Mexicans do to
+      the Virgin? They won’t disgrace you, Miss Majesty. They’ll be simply
+      immense. It’ll beat any show you ever seen.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I believe it will,” replied Madeline. She was still doubtful of her plan,
+      but the enthusiasm of the old cattleman was infectious and irresistible.
+      “Very well, we will consider it settled. My guests will arrive on May
+      ninth. Meanwhile let us get Her Majesty’s Rancho in shape for this
+      invasion.”
+     </p>
+<div class='pre'>
+    *       *       *
+</div>
+    <p>
+      On the afternoon of the ninth of May, perhaps half an hour after Madeline
+      had received a telephone message from Link Stevens announcing the arrival
+      of her guests at El Cajon, Florence called her out upon the porch.
+      Stillwell was there with his face wrinkled by his wonderful smile and his
+      eagle eyes riveted upon the distant valley. Far away, perhaps twenty
+      miles, a thin streak of white dust rose from the valley floor and slanted
+      skyward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Look!” said Florence, excitedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What is that?” asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Link Stevens and the automobile!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh no! Why, it’s only a few minutes since he telephoned saying the party
+      had just arrived.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Take a look with the glasses,” said Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One glance through the powerful binoculars convinced Madeline that
+      Florence was right. And another glance at Stillwell told her that he was
+      speechless with delight. She remembered a little conversation she had had
+      with Link Stevens a short while previous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stevens, I hope the car is in good shape,” she had said. “Now, Miss
+      Hammond, she’s as right as the best-trained hoss I ever rode,” he had
+      replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “The valley road is perfect,” she had gone on, musingly. “I never saw such
+      a beautiful road, even in France. No fences, no ditches, no rocks, no
+      vehicles. Just a lonely road on the desert.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shore, it’s lonely,” Stevens had answered, with slowly brightening eyes.
+      “An’ safe, Miss Hammond.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “My sister used to like fast riding. If I remember correctly, all of my
+      guests were a little afflicted with the speed mania. It is a common
+      disease with New-Yorkers. I hope, Stevens, that you will not give them
+      reason to think we are altogether steeped in the slow, dreamy manana
+      languor of the Southwest.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Link doubtfully eyed her, and then his bronze face changed its dark aspect
+      and seemed to shine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Hammond, thet’s shore tall talk fer Link
+      Stevens to savvy. You mean—as long as I drive careful an’ safe I can
+      run away from my dust, so to say, an’ get here in somethin’ less than the
+      Greaser’s to-morrow?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had laughed her assent. And now, as she watched the thin streak
+      of dust, at that distance moving with snail pace, she reproached herself.
+      She trusted Stevens; she had never known so skilful, daring, and
+      iron-nerved a driver as he was. If she had been in the car herself she
+      would have had no anxiety. But, imagining what Stevens would do on forty
+      miles and more of that desert road, Madeline suffered a prick of
+      conscience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, Stillwell!” she exclaimed. “I am afraid I will go back on my
+      wonderful idea. What made me do it?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Your sister wanted the real thing, didn’t she? Said they all wanted it.
+      Wal, I reckon they’ve begun gettin’ it,” replied Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That statement from the cattleman allayed Madeline’s pangs of conscience.
+      She understood just what she felt, though she could not have put it in
+      words. She was hungry for a sight of well-remembered faces; she longed to
+      hear the soft laughter and gay repartee of old friends; she was eager for
+      gossipy first-hand news of her old world. Nevertheless, something in her
+      sister’s letter, in messages from the others who were coming, had touched
+      Madeline’s pride. In one sense the expected guests were hostile, inasmuch
+      as they were scornful and curious about the West that had claimed her. She
+      imagined what they would expect in a Western ranch. They would surely get
+      the real thing, too, as Stillwell said; and in that certainty was
+      satisfaction for a small grain of something within Madeline which
+      approached resentment. She wistfully wondered, however, if her sister or
+      friends would come to see the West even a little as she saw it. That,
+      perhaps, would he hoping too much. She resolved once for all to do her
+      best to give them the sensation their senses craved, and equally to show
+      them the sweetness and beauty and wholesomeness and strength of life in
+      the Southwest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, as Nels says, I wouldn’t be in that there ottomobile right now for a
+      million pesos,” remarked Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why? Is Stevens driving fast?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Good Lord! Fast? Miss Majesty, there hain’t ever been anythin’ except a
+      streak of lightnin’ run so fast in this country. I’ll bet Link for once is
+      in heaven. I can jest see him now, the grim, crooked-legged little devil,
+      hunchin’ down over that wheel as if it was a hoss’s neck.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I told him not to let the ride be hot or dusty,” remarked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Haw, haw!” roared Stillwell. “Wal, I’ll be goin’. I reckon I’d like to be
+      hyar when Link drives up, but I want to be with the boys down by the
+      bunks. It’ll be some fun to see Nels an’ Monty when Link comes flyin’
+      along.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I wish Al had stayed to meet them,” said Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her brother had rather hurried a shipment of cattle to California: and it
+      was Madeline’s supposition that he had welcomed the opportunity to absent
+      himself from the ranch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am sorry he wouldn’t stay,” replied Florence. “But Al’s all business
+      now. And he’s doing finely. It’s just as well, perhaps.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Surely. That was my pride speaking. I would like to have all my family
+      and all my old friends see what a man Al has become. Well, Link Stevens is
+      running like the wind. The car will be here before we know it. Florence,
+      we’ve only a few moments to dress. But first I want to order many and
+      various and exceedingly cold refreshments for that approaching party.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Less than a half-hour later Madeline went again to the porch and found
+      Florence there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, you look just lovely!” exclaimed Florence, impulsively, as she gazed
+      wide-eyed up at Madeline. “And somehow so different!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline smiled a little sadly. Perhaps when she had put on that exquisite
+      white gown something had come to her of the manner which befitted the
+      wearing of it. She could not resist the desire to look fair once more in
+      the eyes of these hypercritical friends. The sad smile had been for the
+      days that were gone. For she knew that what society had once been pleased
+      to call her beauty had trebled since it had last been seen in a
+      drawing-room. Madeline wore no jewels, but at her waist she had pinned two
+      great crimson roses. Against the dead white they had the life and fire and
+      redness of the desert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Link’s hit the old round-up trail,” said Florence, “and oh, isn’t he
+      riding that car!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With Florence, as with most of the cowboys, the car was never driven, but
+      ridden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A white spot with a long trail of dust showed low down in the valley. It
+      was now headed almost straight for the ranch. Madeline watched it growing
+      larger moment by moment, and her pleasurable emotion grew accordingly.
+      Then the rapid beat of a horse’s hoofs caused her to turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart was riding in on his black horse. He had been absent on an
+      important mission, and his duty had taken him to the international
+      boundary-line. His presence home long before he was expected was
+      particularly gratifying to Madeline, for it meant that his mission had
+      been brought to a successful issue. Once more, for the hundredth time, the
+      man’s reliability struck Madeline. He was a doer of things. The black
+      horse halted wearily without the usual pound of hoofs on the gravel, and
+      the dusty rider dismounted wearily. Both horse and rider showed the heat
+      and dust and wind of many miles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline advanced to the porch steps. And Stewart, after taking a parcel
+      of papers from a saddle-bag, turned toward her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, you are the best of couriers,” she said. “I am pleased.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dust streamed from his sombrero as he doffed it. His dark face seemed to
+      rise as he straightened weary shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Here are the reports, Miss Hammond,” he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he looked up to see her standing there, dressed to receive her Eastern
+      guests, he checked his advance with a violent action which recalled to
+      Madeline the one he had made on the night she had met him, when she
+      disclosed her identity. It was not fear nor embarrassment nor awkwardness.
+      And it was only momentary. Yet, slight as had been his pause, Madeline
+      received from it an impression of some strong halting force. A man struck
+      by a bullet might have had an instant jerk of muscular control such as
+      convulsed Stewart. In that instant, as her keen gaze searched his
+      dust-caked face, she met the full, free look of his eyes. Her own did not
+      fall, though she felt a warmth steal to her cheeks. Madeline very seldom
+      blushed. And now, conscious of her sudden color a genuine blush flamed on
+      her face. It was irritating because it was incomprehensible. She received
+      the papers from Stewart and thanked him. He bowed, then led the black down
+      the path toward the corrals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “When Stewart looks like that he’s been riding,” said Florence. “But when
+      his horse looks like that he’s sure been burning the wind.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline watched the weary horse and rider limp down the path. What had
+      made her thoughtful? Mostly it was something new or sudden or inexplicable
+      that stirred her mind to quick analysis. In this instance the thing that
+      had struck Madeline was Stewart’s glance. He had looked at her, and the
+      old burning, inscrutable fire, the darkness, had left his eyes. Suddenly
+      they had been beautiful. The look had not been one of surprise or
+      admiration; nor had it been one of love. She was familiar, too familiar
+      with all three. It had not been a gaze of passion, for there was nothing
+      beautiful in that. Madeline pondered. And presently she realized that
+      Stewart’s eyes had expressed a strange joy of pride. That expression
+      Madeline had never before encountered in the look of any man. Probably its
+      strangeness had made her notice it and accounted for her blushing. The
+      longer she lived among these outdoor men the more they surprised her.
+      Particularly, how incomprehensible was this cowboy Stewart! Why should he
+      have pride or joy at sight of her?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence’s exclamation made Madeline once more attend to the approaching
+      automobile. It was on the slope now, some miles down the long gradual
+      slant. Two yellow funnel-shaped clouds of dust seemed to shoot out from
+      behind the car and roll aloft to join the column that stretched down the
+      valley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I wonder what riding a mile a minute would be like,” said Florence. “I’ll
+      sure make Link take me. Oh, but look at him come!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The giant car resembled a white demon, and but for the dust would have
+      appeared to be sailing in the air. Its motion was steadily forward,
+      holding to the road as if on rails. And its velocity was astounding. Long,
+      gray veils, like pennants, streamed in the wind. A low rushing sound
+      became perceptible, and it grew louder, became a roar. The car shot like
+      an arrow past the alfalfa-field, by the bunk-houses, where the cowboys
+      waved and cheered. The horses and burros in the corrals began to snort and
+      tramp and race in fright. At the base of the long slope of the foothill
+      Link cut the speed more than half. Yet the car roared up, rolling the
+      dust, flying capes and veils and ulsters, and crashed and cracked to a
+      halt in the yard before the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline descried a gray, disheveled mass of humanity packed inside the
+      car. Besides the driver there were seven occupants, and for a moment they
+      appeared to be coming to life, moving and exclaiming under the veils and
+      wraps and dust-shields.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Link Stevens stepped out and, removing helmet and goggles, coolly looked
+      at his watch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “An hour an’ a quarter, Miss Hammond,” he said. “It’s sixty-three miles by
+      the valley road, an’ you know there’s a couple of bad hills. I reckon we
+      made fair time, considerin’ you wanted me to drive slow an’ safe.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From the mass of dusty-veiled humanity in the car came low exclamations
+      and plaintive feminine wails.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline stepped to the front of the porch. Then the deep voices of men
+      and softer voices of women united in one glad outburst, as much a
+      thanksgiving as a greeting, “MAJESTY!”
+     </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      Helen Hammond was three years younger than Madeline, and a slender, pretty
+      girl. She did not resemble her sister, except in whiteness and fineness of
+      skin, being more of a brown-eyed, brown-haired type. Having recovered her
+      breath soon after Madeline took her to her room, she began to talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty, old girl, I’m here; but you can bet I would never have gotten
+      here if I had known about that ride from the railroad. You never wrote
+      that you had a car. I thought this was out West—stage-coach, and all
+      that sort of thing. Such a tremendous car! And the road! And that terrible
+      little man with the leather trousers! What kind of a chauffeur is he?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “He’s a cowboy. He was crippled by falling under his horse, so I had him
+      instructed to run the car. He can drive, don’t you think?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Drive? Good gracious! He scared us to death, except Castleton. Nothing
+      could scare that cold-blooded little Englishman. I am dizzy yet. Do you
+      know, Majesty, I was delighted when I saw the car. Then your cowboy driver
+      met us at the platform. What a queer-looking individual! He had a big
+      pistol strapped to those leather trousers. That made me nervous. When he
+      piled us all in with our grips, he put me in the seat beside him, whether
+      I liked it or not. I was fool enough to tell him I loved to travel fast.
+      What do you think he said? Well, he eyed me in a rather cool and
+      speculative way and said, with a smile, ‘Miss, I reckon anything you love
+      an’ want bad will be coming to you out here!’ I didn’t know whether it was
+      delightful candor or impudence. Then he said to all of us: ‘Shore you had
+      better wrap up in the veils an’ dusters. It’s a long, slow, hot, dusty
+      ride to the ranch, an’ Miss Hammond’s order was to drive safe.’ He got our
+      baggage checks and gave them to a man with a huge wagon and a four-horse
+      team. Then he cranked the car, jumped in, wrapped his arms round the
+      wheel, and sank down low in his seat. There was a crack, a jerk, a kind of
+      flash around us, and that dirty little town was somewhere on the map
+      behind. For about five minutes I had a lovely time. Then the wind began to
+      tear me to pieces. I couldn’t hear anything but the rush of wind and roar
+      of the car. I could see only straight ahead. What a road! I never saw a
+      road in my life till to-day. Miles and miles and miles ahead, with not
+      even a post or tree. That big car seemed to leap at the miles. It hummed
+      and sang. I was fascinated, then terrified. We went so fast I couldn’t
+      catch my breath. The wind went through me, and I expected to be disrobed
+      by it any minute. I was afraid I couldn’t hold any clothes on. Presently
+      all I could see was a flashing gray wall with a white line in the middle.
+      Then my eyes blurred. My face burned. My ears grew full of a hundred
+      thousand howling devils. I was about ready to die when the car stopped. I
+      looked and looked, and when I could see, there you stood!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Helen, I thought you were fond of speeding,” said Madeline, with a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I was. But I assure you I never before was in a fast car; I never saw a
+      road; I never met a driver.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Perhaps I may have a few surprises for you out here in the wild and
+      woolly West.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen’s dark eyes showed a sister’s memory of possibilities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You’ve started well,” she said. “I am simply stunned. I expected to find
+      you old and dowdy. Majesty, you’re the handsomest thing I ever laid eyes
+      on. You’re so splendid and strong, and your skin is like white gold.
+      What’s happened to you? What’s changed you? This beautiful room, those
+      glorious roses out there, the cool, dark sweetness of this wonderful
+      house! I know you, Majesty, and, though you never wrote it, I believe you
+      have made a home out here. That’s the most stunning surprise of all. Come,
+      confess. I know I’ve always been selfish and not much of a sister; but if
+      you are happy out here I am glad. You were not happy at home. Tell me
+      about yourself and about Alfred. Then I shall give you all the messages
+      and news from the East.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It afforded Madeline exceeding pleasure to have from one and all of her
+      guests varied encomiums of her beautiful home, and a real and warm
+      interest in what promised to be a delightful and memorable visit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of them all Castleton was the only one who failed to show surprise. He
+      greeted her precisely as he had when he had last seen her in London.
+      Madeline, rather to her astonishment, found meeting him again pleasurable.
+      She discovered she liked this imperturbable Englishman. Manifestly her
+      capacity for liking any one had immeasurably enlarged. Quite unexpectedly
+      her old girlish love for her younger sister sprang into life, and with it
+      interest in these half-forgotten friends, and a warm regard for Edith
+      Wayne, a chum of college days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen’s party was smaller than Madeline had expected it to be. Helen had
+      been careful to select a company of good friends, all of whom were well
+      known to Madeline. Edith Wayne was a patrician brunette, a serious,
+      soft-voiced woman, sweet and kindly, despite a rather bitter experience
+      that had left her worldly wise. Mrs. Carrollton Beck, a plain, lively
+      person, had chaperoned the party. The fourth and last of the feminine
+      contingent was Miss Dorothy Coombs—Dot, as they called her—a
+      young woman of attractive blond prettiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a man Castleton was of very small stature. He had a pink-and-white
+      complexion, a small golden mustache, and his heavy eyelids, always
+      drooping, made him look dull. His attire, cut to what appeared to be an
+      exaggerated English style, attracted attention to his diminutive size. He
+      was immaculate and fastidious. Robert Weede was a rather large florid
+      young man, remarkable only for his good nature. Counting Boyd Harvey, a
+      handsome, pale-faced fellow, with the careless smile of the man for whom
+      life had been easy and pleasant, the party was complete.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dinner was a happy hour, especially for the Mexican women who served it
+      and who could not fail to note its success. The mingling of low voices and
+      laughter, the old, gay, superficial talk, the graciousness of a class
+      which lived for the pleasure of things and to make time pass pleasurably
+      for others—all took Madeline far back into the past. She did not
+      care to return to it, but she saw that it was well she had not wholly cut
+      herself off from her people and friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the party adjourned to the porch the heat had markedly decreased and
+      the red sun was sinking over the red desert. An absence of spoken praise,
+      a gradually deepening silence, attested to the impression on the visitors
+      of that noble sunset. Just as the last curve of red rim vanished beyond
+      the dim Sierra Madres and the golden lightning began to flare brighter
+      Helen broke the silence with an exclamation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It wants only life. Ah, there’s a horse climbing the hill! See, he’s up!
+      He has a rider!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline knew before she looked the identity of the man riding up the
+      mesa. But she did not know until that moment how the habit of watching for
+      him at this hour had grown upon her. He rode along the rim of the mesa and
+      out to the point, where, against the golden background, horse and rider
+      stood silhouetted in bold relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What’s he doing there? Who is he?” inquired the curious Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “That is Stewart, my right-hand man,” replied Madeline. “Every day when he
+      is at the ranch he rides up there at sunset. I think he likes the ride and
+      the scene; but he goes to take a look at the cattle in the valley.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Is he a cowboy?” asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Indeed yes!” replied Madeline, with a little laugh. “You will think so
+      when Stillwell gets hold of you and begins to talk.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline found it necessary to explain who Stillwell was, and what he
+      thought of Stewart, and, while she was about it, of her own accord she
+      added a few details of Stewart’s fame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “El Capitan. How interesting!” mused Helen. “What does he look like?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “He is superb.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence handed the field-glass to Helen and bade her look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, thank you!” said Helen, as she complied. “There. I see him. Indeed,
+      he is superb. What a magnificent horse! How still he stands! Why, he seems
+      carved in stone.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Let me look?” said Dorothy Coombs, eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen gave her the glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You can look, Dot, but that’s all. He’s mine. I saw him first.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whereupon Madeline’s feminine guests held a spirited contest over the
+      field-glass, and three of them made gay, bantering boasts not to consider
+      Helen’s self-asserted rights. Madeline laughed with the others while she
+      watched the dark figure of Stewart and his black outline against the sky.
+      There came over her a thought not by any means new or strange—she
+      wondered what was in Stewart’s mind as he stood there in the solitude and
+      faced the desert and the darkening west. Some day she meant to ask him.
+      Presently he turned the horse and rode down into the shadow creeping up
+      the mesa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty, have you planned any fun, any excitement for us?” asked Helen.
+      She was restless, nervous, and did not seem to be able to sit still a
+      moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You will think so when I get through with you,” replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What, for instance?” inquired Helen and Dot and Mrs. Beck, in unison.
+      Edith Wayne smiled her interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, I am not counting rides and climbs and golf; but these are
+      necessary to train you for trips over into Arizona. I want to show you the
+      desert and the Aravaipa Canyon. We have to go on horseback and pack our
+      outfit. If any of you are alive after those trips and want more we shall
+      go up into the mountains. I should like very much to know what you each
+      want particularly.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’ll tell you,” replied Helen, promptly. “Dot will be the same out here
+      as she was in the East. She wants to look bashfully down at her hand—a
+      hand imprisoned in another, by the way—and listen to a man talk
+      poetry about her eyes. If cowboys don’t make love that way Dot’s visit
+      will be a failure. Now Elsie Beck wants solely to be revenged upon us for
+      dragging her out here. She wants some dreadful thing to happen to us. I
+      don’t know what’s in Edith’s head, but it isn’t fun. Bobby wants to be
+      near Elsie, and no more. Boyd wants what he has always wanted—the
+      only thing he ever wanted that he didn’t get. Castleton has a horrible
+      bloodthirsty desire to kill something.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I declare now, I want to ride and camp out, also,” protested Castleton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “As for myself,” went on Helen, “I want—Oh, if I only knew what it
+      is that I want! Well, I know I want to be outdoors, to get into the open,
+      to feel sun and wind, to burn some color into my white face. I want some
+      flesh and blood and life. I am tired out. Beyond all that I don’t know
+      very well. I’ll try to keep Dot from attaching all the cowboys to her
+      train.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “What a diversity of wants!” said Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Above all, Majesty, we want something to happen,” concluded Helen, with
+      passionate finality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “My dear sister, maybe you will have your wish fulfilled,” replied
+      Madeline, soberly. “Edith, Helen has made me curious about your especial
+      yearning.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty, it is only that I wanted to be with you for a while,” replied
+      this old friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was in the wistful reply, accompanied by a dark and eloquent glance
+      of eyes, what told Madeline of Edith’s understanding, of her sympathy, and
+      perhaps a betrayal of her own unquiet soul. It saddened Madeline. How many
+      women might there not be who had the longing to break down the bars of
+      their cage, but had not the spirit!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XIII. Cowboy Golf
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      In the whirl of the succeeding days it was a mooted question whether
+      Madeline’s guests or her cowboys or herself got the keenest enjoyment out
+      of the flying time. Considering the sameness of the cowboys’ ordinary
+      life, she was inclined to think they made the most of the present.
+      Stillwell and Stewart, however, had found the situation trying. The work
+      of the ranch had to go on, and some of it got sadly neglected. Stillwell
+      could not resist the ladies any more than he could resist the fun in the
+      extraordinary goings-on of the cowboys. Stewart alone kept the business of
+      cattle-raising from a serious setback. Early and late he was in the
+      saddle, driving the lazy Mexicans whom he had hired to relieve the
+      cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One morning in June Madeline was sitting on the porch with her merry
+      friends when Stillwell appeared on the corral path. He had not come to
+      consult Madeline for several days—an omission so unusual as to be
+      remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Here comes Bill—in trouble,” laughed Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed, he bore some faint resemblance to a thundercloud as he approached
+      the porch; but the greetings he got from Madeline’s party, especially from
+      Helen and Dorothy, chased away the blackness from his face and brought the
+      wonderful wrinkling smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, sure I’m a sad demoralized old cattleman,” he said,
+      presently. “An’ I’m in need of a heap of help.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “What’s wrong now?” asked Madeline, with her encouraging smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, it’s so amazin’ strange what cowboys will do. I jest am about to
+      give up. Why, you might say my cowboys were all on strike for vacations.
+      What do you think of that? We’ve changed the shifts, shortened hours, let
+      one an’ another off duty, hired Greasers, an’, in fact, done everythin’
+      that could be thought of. But this vacation idee growed worse. When
+      Stewart set his foot down, then the boys begin to get sick. Never in my
+      born days as a cattleman have I heerd of so many diseases. An’ you ought
+      to see how lame an’ crippled an’ weak many of the boys have got all of a
+      sudden. The idee of a cowboy comin’ to me with a sore finger an’ askin’ to
+      be let off for a day! There’s Booly. Now I’ve knowed a hoss to fall all
+      over him, an’ onct he rolled down a canyon. Never bothered him at all.
+      He’s got a blister on his heel, a ridin’ blister, an’ he says it’s goin’
+      to blood-poisonin’ if he doesn’t rest. There’s Jim Bell. He’s developed
+      what he says is spinal mengalootis, or some such like. There’s Frankie
+      Slade. He swore he had scarlet fever because his face burnt so red, I
+      guess, an’ when I hollered that scarlet fever was contagious an’ he must
+      be put away somewhere, he up an’ says he guessed it wasn’t that. But he
+      was sure awful sick an’ needed to loaf around an’ be amused. Why, even
+      Nels doesn’t want to work these days. If it wasn’t for Stewart, who’s had
+      Greasers with the cattle, I don’t know what I’d do.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why all this sudden illness and idleness?” asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, you see, the truth is every blamed cowboy on the range except
+      Stewart thinks it’s his bounden duty to entertain the ladies.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I think that is just fine!” exclaimed Dorothy Coombs; and she joined in
+      the general laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, then, doesn’t care to help entertain us?” inquired Helen, in
+      curious interest. “Wal, Miss Helen, Stewart is sure different from the
+      other cowboys,” replied Stillwell. “Yet he used to be like them. There
+      never was a cowboy fuller of the devil than Gene. But he’s changed. He’s
+      foreman here, an’ that must be it. All the responsibility rests on him. He
+      sure has no time for amusin’ the ladies.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I imagine that is our loss,” said Edith Wayne, in her earnest way. “I
+      admire him.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stillwell, you need not be so distressed with what is only gallantry in
+      the boys, even if it does make a temporary confusion in the work,” said
+      Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, all I said is not the half, nor the quarter, nor nuthin’ of
+      what’s troublin’ me,” answered he, sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Very well; unburden yourself.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, the cowboys, exceptin’ Gene, have gone plumb batty, jest plain crazy
+      over this heah game of gol-lof.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A merry peal of mirth greeted Stillwell’s solemn assertion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, Stillwell, you are in fun,” replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I hope to die if I’m not in daid earnest,” declared the cattleman. “It’s
+      an amazin’ strange fact. Ask Flo. She’ll tell you. She knows cowboys, an’
+      how if they ever start on somethin’ they ride it as they ride a hoss.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence being appealed to, and evidently feeling all eyes upon her,
+      modestly replied that Stillwell had scarcely misstated the situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Cowboys play like they work or fight,” she added. “They give their whole
+      souls to it. They are great big simple boys.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Indeed they are,” said Madeline. “Oh, I’m glad if they like the game of
+      golf. They have so little play.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, somethin’s got to be did if we’re to go on raisin’ cattle at Her
+      Majesty’s Rancho,” replied Stillwell. He appeared both deliberate and
+      resigned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline remembered that despite Stillwell’s simplicity he was as deep as
+      any of his cowboys, and there was absolutely no gaging him where
+      possibilities of fun were concerned. Madeline fancied that his exaggerated
+      talk about the cowboys’ sudden craze for golf was in line with certain
+      other remarkable tales that had lately emanated from him. Some very
+      strange things had occurred of late, and it was impossible to tell whether
+      or not they were accidents, mere coincidents, or deep-laid, skilfully
+      worked-out designs of the fun-loving cowboys. Certainly there had been
+      great fun, and at the expense of her guests, particularly Castleton. So
+      Madeline was at a loss to know what to think about Stillwell’s latest
+      elaboration. From mere force of habit she sympathized with him and found
+      difficulty in doubting his apparent sincerity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “To go back a ways,” went on Stillwell, as Madeline looked up expectantly,
+      “you recollect what pride the boys took in fixin’ up that gol-lof course
+      out on the mesa? Wal, they worked on that job, an’ though I never seen any
+      other course, I’ll gamble yours can’t be beat. The boys was sure curious
+      about that game. You recollect also how they all wanted to see you an’
+      your brother play, an’ be caddies for you? Wal, whenever you’d quit they’d
+      go to work tryin’ to play the game. Monty Price, he was the leadin’
+      spirit. Old as I am, Miss Majesty, an’ used as I am to cowboy
+      excentrikities, I nearly dropped daid when I heered that little
+      hobble-footed, burned-up Montana cow-puncher say there wasn’t any game too
+      swell for him, an’ gol-lof was just his speed. Serious as a preacher, mind
+      you, he was. An’ he was always practisin’. When Stewart gave him charge of
+      the course an’ the club-house an’ all them funny sticks, why, Monty was
+      tickled to death. You see, Monty is sensitive that he ain’t much good any
+      more for cowboy work. He was glad to have a job that he didn’t feel he was
+      hangin’ to by kindness. Wal, he practised the game, an’ he read the books
+      in the club-house, an’ he got the boys to doin’ the same. That wasn’t very
+      hard, I reckon. They played early an’ late an’ in the moonlight. For a
+      while Monty was coach, an’ the boys stood it. But pretty soon Frankie
+      Slade got puffed on his game, an’ he had to have it out with Monty. Wal,
+      Monty beat him bad. Then one after another the other boys tackled Monty.
+      He beat them all. After that they split up an’ begin to play matches, two
+      on a side. For a spell this worked fine. But cowboys can’t never be
+      satisfied long onless they win all the time. Monty an’ Link Stevens, both
+      cripples, you might say, joined forces an’ elected to beat all comers.
+      Wal, they did, an’ that’s the trouble. Long an’ patient the other cowboys
+      tried to beat them two game legs, an’ hevn’t done it. Mebbe if Monty an’
+      Link was perfectly sound in their legs like the other cowboys there
+      wouldn’t hev been such a holler. But no sound cowboys’ll ever stand for a
+      disgrace like that. Why, down at the bunks in the evenin’s it’s some
+      mortifyin’ the way Monty an’ Link crow over the rest of the outfit.
+      They’ve taken on superior airs. You couldn’t reach up to Monty with a
+      trimmed spruce pole. An’ Link—wal, he’s just amazin’ scornful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘It’s a swell game, ain’t it?’ says Link, powerful sarcastic. ‘Wal,
+      what’s hurtin’ you low-down common cowmen? You keep harpin’ on Monty’s
+      game leg an’ on my game leg. If we hed good legs we’d beat you all the
+      wuss. It’s brains that wins in gol-lof. Brains an’ airstoocratik blood,
+      which of the same you fellers sure hev little.’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “An’ then Monty he blows smoke powerful careless an’ superior, an’ he
+      says:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘Sure it’s a swell game. You cow-headed gents think beef an’ brawn ought
+      to hev the call over skill an’ gray matter. You’ll all hev to back up an’
+      get down. Go out an’ learn the game. You don’t know a baffy from a Chinee
+      sandwich. All you can do is waggle with a club an’ fozzle the ball.’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Whenever Monty gets to usin’ them queer names the boys go round kind of
+      dotty. Monty an’ Link hev got the books an’ directions of the game, an’
+      they won’t let the other boys see them. They show the rules, but that’s
+      all. An’, of course, every game ends in a row almost before it’s started.
+      The boys are all turrible in earnest about this gol-lof. An’ I want to
+      say, for the good of ranchin’, not to mention a possible fight, that Monty
+      an’ Link hev got to be beat. There’ll be no peace round this ranch till
+      that’s done.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s guests were much amused. As for herself, in spite of her
+      scarcely considered doubt, Stillwell’s tale of woe occasioned her anxiety.
+      However, she could hardly control her mirth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What in the world can I do?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I reckon I couldn’t say. I only come to you for advice. It seems
+      that a queer kind of game has locoed my cowboys, an’ for the time bein’
+      ranchin’ is at a standstill. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but cowboys are as
+      strange as wild cattle. All I’m sure of is that the conceit has got to be
+      taken out of Monty an’ Link. Onct, just onct, will square it, an’ then we
+      can resoome our work.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stillwell, listen,” said Madeline, brightly. “We’ll arrange a match game,
+      a foursome, between Monty and Link and your best picked team. Castleton,
+      who is an expert golfer, will umpire. My sister, and friends, and I will
+      take turns as caddies for your team. That will be fair, considering yours
+      is the weaker. Caddies may coach, and perhaps expert advice is all that is
+      necessary for your team to defeat Monty’s.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “A grand idee,” declared Stillwell, with instant decision. “When can we
+      have this match game?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why, to-day—this afternoon. We’ll all ride out to the links.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I reckon I’ll be some indebted to you, Miss Majesty, an’ all your
+      guests,” replied Stillwell, warmly. He rose with sombrero in hand, and a
+      twinkle in his eye that again prompted Madeline to wonder. “An’ now I’ll
+      be goin’ to fix up for the game of cowboy gol-lof. Adios.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The idea was as enthusiastically received by Madeline’s guests as it had
+      been by Stillwell. They were highly amused and speculative to the point of
+      taking sides and making wagers on their choice. Moreover, this situation
+      so frankly revealed by Stillwell had completed their deep mystification.
+      They were now absolutely nonplussed by the singular character of American
+      cowboys. Madeline was pleased to note how seriously they had taken the old
+      cattleman’s story. She had a little throb of wild expectancy that made her
+      both fear and delight in the afternoon’s prospect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The June days had set in warm; in fact, hot during the noon hours: and
+      this had inculcated in her insatiable visitors a tendency to profit by the
+      experience of those used to the Southwest. They indulged in the restful
+      siesta during the heated term of the day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was awakened by Majesty’s well-known whistle and pounding on the
+      gravel. Then she heard the other horses. When she went out she found her
+      party assembled in gala golf attire, and with spirits to match their
+      costumes. Castleton, especially, appeared resplendent in a golf coat that
+      beggared description. Madeline had faint misgivings when she reflected on
+      what Monty and Nels and Nick might do under the influence of that blazing
+      garment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh. Majesty,” cried Helen, as Madeline went up to her horse, “don’t make
+      him kneel! Try that flying mount. We all want to see it. It’s so
+      stunning.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “But that way, too, I must have him kneel,” said Madeline, “or I can’t
+      reach the stirrup. He’s so tremendously high.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had to yield to the laughing insistence of her friends, and after
+      all of them except Florence were up she made Majesty go down on one knee.
+      Then she stood on his left side, facing back, and took a good firm grip on
+      the bridle and pommel and his mane. After she had slipped the toe of her
+      boot firmly into the stirrup she called to Majesty. He jumped and swung
+      her up into the saddle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Now just to see how it ought to be done watch Florence,” said Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Western girl was at her best in riding-habit and with her horse. It
+      was beautiful to see the ease and grace with which she accomplished the
+      cowboys’ flying mount. Then she led the party down the slope and across
+      the flat to climb the mesa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline never saw a group of her cowboys without looking them over,
+      almost unconsciously, for her foreman, Gene Stewart. This afternoon, as
+      usual, he was not present. However, she now had a sense—of which she
+      was wholly conscious—that she was both disappointed and irritated.
+      He had really not been attentive to her guests, and he, of all her
+      cowboys, was the one of whom they wanted most to see something. Helen,
+      particularly, had asked to have him attend the match. But Stewart was with
+      the cattle. Madeline thought of his faithfulness, and was ashamed of her
+      momentary lapse into that old imperious habit of desiring things
+      irrespective of reason.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart, however, immediately slipped out of her mind as she surveyed the
+      group of cowboys on the links. By actual count there were sixteen, not
+      including Stillwell. And the same number of splendid horses, all shiny and
+      clean, grazed on the rim in the care of Mexican lads. The cowboys were on
+      dress-parade, looking very different in Madeline’s eyes, at least, from
+      the way cowboys usually appeared. But they were real and natural to her
+      guests; and they were so picturesque that they might have been stage
+      cowboys instead of real ones. Sombreros with silver buckles and horsehair
+      bands were in evidence; and bright silk scarfs, embroidered vests, fringed
+      and ornamented chaps, huge swinging guns, and clinking silver spurs lent a
+      festive appearance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline and her party were at once eagerly surrounded by the cowboys, and
+      she found it difficult to repress a smile. If these cowboys were still
+      remarkable to her, what must they be to her guests?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, you-all raced over, I seen,” said Stillwell, taking Madeline’s
+      bridle. “Get down—get down. We’re sure amazin’ glad an’ proud. An’,
+      Miss Majesty, I’m offerin’ to beg pawdin for the way the boys are packin’
+      guns. Mebbe it ain’t polite. But it’s Stewart’s orders.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart’s orders!” echoed Madeline. Her friends were suddenly silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon he won’t take no chances on the boys bein’ surprised sudden by
+      raiders. An’ there’s raiders operatin’ in from the Guadalupes. That’s all.
+      Nothin’ to worry over. I was just explainin’.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, with several of her party, expressed relief, but Helen showed
+      excitement and then disappointment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, I want something to happen!” she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sixteen pairs of keen cowboy eyes fastened intently upon her pretty,
+      petulant face; and Madeline divined, if Helen did not, that the desired
+      consummation was not far off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “So do I,” said Dot Coombs. “It would be perfectly lovely to have a real
+      adventure.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gaze of the sixteen cowboys shifted and sought the demure face of this
+      other discontented girl. Madeline laughed, and Stillwell wore his strange,
+      moving smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I reckon you ladies sure won’t have to go home unhappy,” he said.
+      “Why, as boss of this heah outfit I’d feel myself disgraced forever if you
+      didn’t have your wish. Just wait. An’ now, ladies, the matter on hand may
+      not be amusin’ or excitin’ to you; but to this heah cowboy outfit it’s
+      powerful important. An’ all the help you can give us will sure be
+      thankfully received. Take a look across the links. Do you-all see them two
+      apologies for human bein’s prancin’ like a couple of hobbled broncs? Wal,
+      you’re gazin’ at Monty Price an’ Link Stevens, who have of a sudden got
+      too swell to associate with their old bunkies. They’re practisin’ for the
+      toornament. They don’t want my boys to see how they handle them crooked
+      clubs.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Have you picked your team?” inquired Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell mopped his red face with an immense bandana, and showed
+      something of confusion and perplexity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’ve sixteen boys, an’ they all want to play,” he replied. “Pickin’ the
+      team ain’t goin’ to be an easy job. Mebbe it won’t be healthy, either.
+      There’s Nels and Nick. They just stated cheerful-like that if they didn’t
+      play we won’t have any game at all. Nick never tried before, an’ Nels, all
+      he wants is to get a crack at Monty with one of them crooked clubs.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I suggest you let all your boys drive from the tee and choose the two who
+      drive the farthest,” said Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell’s perplexed face lighted up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, that’s a plumb good idee. The boys’ll stand for that.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Wherewith he broke up the admiring circle of cowboys round the ladies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Grap a rope—I mean a club—all you cow-punchers, an’ march
+      over hyar an’ take a swipe at this little white bean.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboys obeyed with alacrity. There was considerable difficulty over
+      the choice of clubs and who should try first. The latter question had to
+      be adjusted by lot. However, after Frankie Slade made several ineffectual
+      attempts to hit the ball from the teeing-ground, at last to send it only a
+      few yards, the other players were not so eager to follow. Stillwell had to
+      push Booly forward, and Booly executed a most miserable shot and retired
+      to the laughing comments of his comrades. The efforts of several
+      succeeding cowboys attested to the extreme difficulty of making a good
+      drive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Nick, it’s your turn,” said Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, I ain’t so all-fired particular about playin’,” replied Nick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why? You was roarin’ about it a little while ago. Afraid to show how bad
+      you’ll play?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nope, jest plain consideration for my feller cow-punchers,” answered
+      Nick, with spirit. “I’m appreciatin’ how bad they play, an’ I’m not mean
+      enough to show them up.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, you’ve got to show me,” said Stillwell. “I know you never seen a
+      gol-lof stick in your life. What’s more, I’ll bet you can’t hit that
+      little ball square—not in a dozen cracks at it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, I’m also too much of a gent to take your money. But you know I’m
+      from Missouri. Gimme a club.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nick’s angry confidence seemed to evaporate as one after another he took
+      up and handled the clubs. It was plain that he had never before wielded
+      one. But, also, it was plain that he was not the kind of a man to give in.
+      Finally he selected a driver, looked doubtfully at the small knob, and
+      then stepped into position on the teeing-ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nick Steele stood six feet four inches in height. He had the rider’s wiry
+      slenderness, yet he was broad of shoulder. His arms were long. Manifestly
+      he was an exceedingly powerful man. He swung the driver aloft and whirled
+      it down with a tremendous swing. Crack! The white ball disappeared, and
+      from where it had been rose a tiny cloud of dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s quick sight caught the ball as it lined somewhat to the right.
+      It was shooting low and level with the speed of a bullet. It went up and
+      up in swift, beautiful flight, then lost its speed and began to sail, to
+      curve, to drop; and it fell out of sight beyond the rim of the mesa.
+      Madeline had never seen a drive that approached this one. It was
+      magnificent, beyond belief except for actual evidence of her own eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The yelling of the cowboys probably brought Nick Steele out of the
+      astounding spell with which he beheld his shot. Then Nick, suddenly alive
+      to the situation, recovered from his trance and, resting nonchalantly upon
+      his club, he surveyed Stillwell and the boys. After their first surprised
+      outburst they were dumb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You-all seen thet?” Nick grandly waved his hand. “Thaught I was joshin’,
+      didn’t you? Why, I used to go to St. Louis an’ Kansas City to play this
+      here game. There was some talk of the golf clubs takin’ me down East to
+      play the champions. But I never cared fer the game. Too easy fer me! Them
+      fellers back in Missouri were a lot of cheap dubs, anyhow, always kickin’
+      because whenever I hit a ball hard I always lost it. Why, I hed to hit
+      sort of left-handed to let ’em stay in my class. Now you-all can go ahead
+      an’ play Monty an’ Link. I could beat ’em both, playin’ with one hand, if
+      I wanted to. But I ain’t interested. I jest hit thet ball off the mesa to
+      show you. I sure wouldn’t be seen playin’ on your team.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that Nick sauntered away toward the horses. Stillwell appeared
+      crushed. And not a scornful word was hurled after Nick, which fact proved
+      the nature of his victory. Then Nels strode into the limelight. As far as
+      it was possible for this iron-faced cowboy to be so, he was bland and
+      suave. He remarked to Stillwell and the other cowboys that sometimes it
+      was painful for them to judge of the gifts of superior cowboys such as
+      belonged to Nick and himself. He picked up the club Nick had used and
+      called for a new ball. Stillwell carefully built up a little mound of sand
+      and, placing the ball upon it, squared away to watch. He looked grim and
+      expectant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels was not so large a man as Nick, and did not look so formidable as he
+      waved his club at the gaping cowboys. Still he was lithe, tough, strong.
+      Briskly, with a debonair manner, he stepped up and then delivered a mighty
+      swing at the ball. He missed. The power and momentum of his swing flung
+      him off his feet, and he actually turned upside down and spun round on his
+      head. The cowboys howled. Stillwell’s stentorian laugh rolled across the
+      mesa. Madeline and her guests found it impossible to restrain their mirth.
+      And when Nels got up he cast a reproachful glance at Madeline. His
+      feelings were hurt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His second attempt, not by any means so violent, resulted in as clean a
+      miss as the first, and brought jeers from the cowboys. Nels’s red face
+      flamed redder. Angrily he swung again. The mound of sand spread over the
+      teeing-ground and the exasperating little ball rolled a few inches. This
+      time he had to build up the sand mound and replace the ball himself.
+      Stillwell stood scornfully by, and the boys addressed remarks to Nels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Take off them blinders,” said one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, your eyes are shore bad,” said another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You don’t hit where you look.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, your left eye has sprung a limp.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why, you dog-goned old fule, you cain’t hit thet bawl.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels essayed again, only to meet ignominious failure. Then carefully he
+      gathered himself together, gaged distance, balanced the club, swung
+      cautiously. And the head of the club made a beautiful curve round the
+      ball.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shore it’s jest thet crooked club,” he declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He changed clubs and made another signal failure. Rage suddenly possessing
+      him, he began to swing wildly. Always, it appeared, the illusive little
+      ball was not where he aimed. Stillwell hunched his huge bulk, leaned hands
+      on knees, and roared his riotous mirth. The cowboys leaped up and down in
+      glee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You cain’t hit thet bawl,” sang out one of the noisiest. A few more
+      whirling, desperate lunges on the part of Nels, all as futile as if the
+      ball had been thin air, finally brought to the dogged cowboy a realization
+      that golf was beyond him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell bawled: “Oh, haw, haw, haw! Nels, you’re—too old—eyes
+      no good!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels slammed down the club, and when he straightened up with the red
+      leaving his face, then the real pride and fire of the man showed.
+      Deliberately he stepped off ten paces and turned toward the little mound
+      upon which rested the ball. His arm shot down, elbow crooked, hand like a
+      claw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aw, Nels, this is fun!” yelled Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But swift as a gleam of light Nels flashed his gun, and the report came
+      with the action. Chips flew from the golf-ball as it tumbled from the
+      mound. Nels had hit it without raising the dust. Then he dropped the gun
+      back in its sheath and faced the cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mebbe my eyes ain’t so orful bad,” he said, coolly, and started to walk
+      off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “But look ah-heah, Nels,” yelled Stillwell, “we come out to play gol-lof!
+      We can’t let you knock the ball around with your gun. What’d you want to
+      get mad for? It’s only fun. Now you an’ Nick hang round heah an’ be
+      sociable. We ain’t depreciatin’ your company none, nor your usefulness on
+      occasions. An’ if you just hain’t got inborn politeness sufficient to do
+      the gallant before the ladies, why, remember Stewart’s orders.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart’s orders?” queried Nels, coming to a sudden halt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “That’s what I said,” replied Stillwell, with asperity. “His orders. Are
+      you forgettin’ orders? Wal, you’re a fine cowboy. You an’ Nick an’ Monty,
+      ’specially, are to obey orders.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels took off his sombrero and scratched his head. “Bill, I reckon I’m
+      some forgetful. But I was mad. I’d ‘a’ remembered pretty soon, an’ mebbe
+      my manners.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sure you would,” replied Stillwell. “Wal, now, we don’t seem to be
+      proceedin’ much with my gol-lof team. Next ambitious player step up.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In Ambrose, who showed some skill in driving, Stillwell found one of his
+      team. The succeeding players, however, were so poor and so evenly matched
+      that the earnest Stillwell was in despair. He lost his temper just as
+      speedily as Nels had. Finally Ed Linton’s wife appeared riding up with
+      Ambrose’s wife, and perhaps this helped, for Ed suddenly disclosed ability
+      that made Stillwell single him out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Let me coach you a little,” said Bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sure, if you like,” replied Ed. “But I know more about this game than you
+      do.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, then, let’s see you hit a ball straight. Seems to me you got good
+      all-fired quick. It’s amazin’ strange,” ere Bill looked around to discover
+      the two young wives modestly casting eyes of admiration upon their
+      husbands. “Haw, haw! It ain’t so darned strange. Mebbe that’ll help some.
+      Now, Ed, stand up and don’t sling your club as if you was ropin’ a steer.
+      Come round easy-like an’ hit straight.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ed made several attempts which, although better than those of his
+      predecessors, were rather discouraging to the exacting coach. Presently,
+      after a particularly atrocious shot, Stillwell strode in distress here and
+      there, and finally stopped a dozen paces or more in front of the
+      teeing-ground. Ed, who for a cowboy was somewhat phlegmatic, calmly made
+      ready for another attempt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Fore!” he called.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell stared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Fore!” yelled Ed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why’re you hollerin’ that way at me?” demanded Bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I mean for you to lope off the horizon. Get back from in front.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, that was one of them durned crazy words Monty is always hollerin’.
+      Wal, I reckon I’m safe enough hyar. You couldn’t hit me in a million
+      years.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, ooze away,” urged Ed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Didn’t I say you couldn’t hit me? What am I coachin’ you for? It’s
+      because you hit crooked, ain’t it? Wal, go ahaid an’ break your back.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ed Linton was a short, heavy man, and his stocky build gave evidence of
+      considerable strength. His former strokes had not been made at the expense
+      of exertion, but now he got ready for a supreme effort. A sudden silence
+      clamped down upon the exuberant cowboys. It was one of those fateful
+      moments when the air was charged with disaster. As Ed swung the club it
+      fairly whistled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Crack! Instantly came a thump. But no one saw the ball until it dropped
+      from Stillwell’s shrinking body. His big hands went spasmodically to the
+      place that hurt, and a terrible groan rumbled from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the cowboys broke into a frenzy of mirth that seemed to find adequate
+      expression only in dancing and rolling accompaniment to their howls.
+      Stillwell recovered his dignity as soon as he caught his breath, and he
+      advanced with a rueful face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, boys, it’s on Bill,” he said. “I’m a livin’ proof of the
+      pig-headedness of mankind. Ed, you win. You’re captain of the team. You
+      hit straight, an’ if I hadn’t been obstructin’ the general atmosphere that
+      ball would sure have gone clear to the Chiricahuas.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then making a megaphone of his huge hands, he yelled a loud blast of
+      defiance at Monty and Link.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hey, you swell gol-lofers! We’re waitin’. Come on if you ain’t scared.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Instantly Monty and Link quit practising, and like two emperors came
+      stalking across the links.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Guess my bluff didn’t work much,” said Stillwell. Then he turned to
+      Madeline and her friends. “Sure I hope, Miss Majesty, that you-all won’t
+      weaken an’ go over to the enemy. Monty is some eloquent, an’, besides, he
+      has a way of gettin’ people to agree with him. He’ll be plumb wild when he
+      heahs what he an’ Link are up against. But it’s a square deal, because he
+      wouldn’t help us or lend the book that shows how to play. An’, besides,
+      it’s policy for us to beat him. Now, if you’ll elect who’s to be caddies
+      an’ umpire I’ll be powerful obliged.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s friends were hugely amused over the prospective match; but,
+      except for Dorothy and Castleton, they disclaimed any ambition for active
+      participation. Accordingly, Madeline appointed Castleton to judge the
+      play, Dorothy to act as caddie for Ed Linton, and she herself to be caddie
+      for Ambrose. While Stillwell beamingly announced this momentous news to
+      his team and supporters Monty and Link were striding up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both were diminutive in size, bow-legged, lame in one foot, and altogether
+      unprepossessing. Link was young, and Monty’s years, more than twice
+      Link’s, had left their mark. But it would have been impossible to tell
+      Monty’s age. As Stillwell said, Monty was burned to the color and hardness
+      of a cinder. He never minded the heat, and always wore heavy sheepskin
+      chaps with the wool outside. This made him look broader than he was long.
+      Link, partial to leather, had, since he became Madeline’s chauffeur, taken
+      to leather altogether. He carried no weapon, but Monty wore a huge
+      gun-sheath and gun. Link smoked a cigarette and looked coolly impudent.
+      Monty was dark-faced, swaggering, for all the world like a barbarian
+      chief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “That Monty makes my flesh creep,” said Helen, low-voiced. “Really, Mr.
+      Stillwell, is he so bad—desperate—as I’ve heard? Did he ever
+      kill anybody?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sure. ’Most as many as Nels,” replied Stillwell, cheerfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh! And is that nice Mr. Nels a desperado, too? I wouldn’t have thought
+      so. He’s so kind and old-fashioned and soft-voiced.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels is sure an example of the dooplicity of men, Miss Helen. Don’t you
+      listen to his soft voice. He’s really as bad as a side-winder
+      rattlesnake.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this juncture Monty and Link reached the teeing-ground, and Stillwell
+      went out to meet them. The other cowboys pressed forward to surround the
+      trio. Madeline heard Stillwell’s voice, and evidently he was explaining
+      that his team was to have skilled advice during the play. Suddenly there
+      came from the center of the group a loud, angry roar that broke off as
+      suddenly. Then followed excited voices all mingled together. Presently
+      Monty appeared, breaking away from restraining hands, and he strode toward
+      Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty Price was a type of cowboy who had never been known to speak to a
+      woman unless he was first addressed, and then he answered in blunt,
+      awkward shyness. Upon this great occasion, however, it appeared that he
+      meant to protest or plead with Madeline, for he showed stress of emotion.
+      Madeline had never gotten acquainted with Monty. She was a little in awe,
+      if not in fear, of him, and now she found it imperative for her to keep in
+      mind that more than any other of the wild fellows on her ranch this one
+      should be dealt with as if he were a big boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty removed his sombrero—something he had never done before—and
+      the single instant when it was off was long enough to show his head
+      entirely bald. This was one of the hall-marks of that terrible Montana
+      prairie fire through which he had fought to save the life of a child.
+      Madeline did not forget it, and all at once she wanted to take Monty’s
+      side. Remembering Stillwell’s wisdom, however, she forebore yielding to
+      sentiment, and called upon her wits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss—Miss Hammond,” began Monty, stammering, “I’m extendin’
+      admirin’ greetin’s to you an’ your friends. Link an’ me are right down
+      proud to play the match game with you watchin’. But Bill says you’re goin’
+      to caddie for his team an’ coach ’em on the fine points. An’ I want to
+      ask, all respectful, if thet’s fair an’ square?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Monty, that is for you to say,” replied Madeline. “It was my suggestion.
+      But if you object in the least, of course we shall withdraw. It seems fair
+      to me, because you have learned the game; you are expert, and I understand
+      the other boys have no chance with you. Then you have coached Link. I
+      think it would be sportsmanlike of you to accept the handicap.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aw, a handicap! Thet was what Bill was drivin’ at. Why didn’t he say so?
+      Every time Bill comes to a word thet’s pie to us old golfers he jest
+      stumbles. Miss Majesty, you’ve made it all clear as print. An’ I may say
+      with becomin’ modesty thet you wasn’t mistaken none about me bein’
+      sportsmanlike. Me an’ Link was born thet way. An’ we accept the handicap.
+      Lackin’ thet handicap, I reckon Link an’ me would have no ambish to play
+      our most be-ootiful game. An’ thankin’ you, Miss Majesty, an’ all your
+      friends, I want to add thet if Bill’s outfit couldn’t beat us before,
+      they’ve got a swell chanct now, with you ladies a-watchin’ me an’ Link.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty had seemed to expand with pride as he delivered this speech, and at
+      the end he bowed low and turned away. He joined the group round Stillwell.
+      Once more there was animated discussion and argument and expostulation.
+      One of the cowboys came for Castleton and led him away to exploit upon
+      ground rules.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to Madeline that the game never would begin. She strolled on the
+      rim of the mesa, arm in arm with Edith Wayne, and while Edith talked she
+      looked out over the gray valley leading to the rugged black mountains and
+      the vast red wastes. In the foreground on the gray slope she saw cattle in
+      movement and cowboys riding to and fro. She thought of Stewart. Then Boyd
+      Harvey came for them, saying all details had been arranged. Stillwell met
+      them half-way, and this cool, dry, old cattleman, whose face and manner
+      scarcely changed at the announcement of a cattle-raid, now showed extreme
+      agitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Miss Majesty, we’ve gone an’ made a foozle right at the start,” he
+      said, dejectedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “A foozle? But the game has not yet begun,” replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “A bad start, I mean. It’s amazin’ bad, an’ we’re licked already.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “What in the world is wrong?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She wanted to laugh, but Stillwell’s distress restrained her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, it’s this way. That darn Monty is as cute an’ slick as a fox. After
+      he got done declaimin’ about the handicap he an’ Link was so happy to
+      take, he got Castleton over hyar an’ drove us all dotty with his crazy
+      gol-lof names. Then he borrowed Castleton’s gol-lof coat. I reckon
+      borrowed is some kind word. He just about took that blazin’ coat off the
+      Englishman. Though I ain’t sayin’ but that Casleton was agreeable when he
+      tumbled to Monty’s meanin’. Which was nothin’ more ’n to break Ambrose’s
+      heart. That coat dazzles Ambrose. You know how vain Ambrose is. Why, he’d
+      die to get to wear that Englishman’s gol-lof coat. An’ Monty forestalled
+      him. It’s plumb pitiful to see the look in Ambrose’s eyes. He won’t be
+      able to play much. Then what do you think? Monty fixed Ed Linton, all
+      right. Usually Ed is easy-goin’ an’ cool. But now he’s on the rampage.
+      Wal, mebbe it’s news to you to learn that Ed’s wife is powerful, turrible
+      jealous of him. Ed was somethin’ of a devil with the wimmen. Monty goes
+      over an’ tells Beulah—that’s Ed’s wife—that Ed is goin’ to
+      have for caddie the lovely Miss Dorothy with the goo-goo eyes. I reckon
+      this was some disrespectful, but with all doo respect to Miss Dorothy she
+      has got a pair of unbridled eyes. Mebbe it’s just natural for her to look
+      at a feller like that. Oh, it’s all right; I’m not sayin’ any-thin’! I
+      know it’s all proper an’ regular for girls back East to use their eyes.
+      But out hyar it’s bound to result disastrous. All the boys talk about
+      among themselves is Miss Dot’s eyes, an’ all they brag about is which
+      feller is the luckiest. Anyway, sure Ed’s wife knows it. An’ Monty up an’
+      told her that it was fine for her to come out an’ see how swell Ed was
+      prancin’ round under the light of Miss Dot’s brown eyes. Beulah calls over
+      Ed, figgertively speakin’, ropes him for a minnit. Ed comes back huggin’ a
+      grouch as big as a hill. Oh, it was funny! He was goin’ to punch Monty’s
+      haid off. An’ Monty stands there an’ laughs. Says Monty, sarcastic as
+      alkali water: ‘Ed, we-all knowed you was a heap married man, but you’re
+      some locoed to give yourself away.’ That settled Ed. He’s some touchy
+      about the way Beulah henpecks him. He lost his spirit. An’ now he couldn’t
+      play marbles, let alone gol-lof. Nope, Monty was too smart. An’ I reckon
+      he was right about brains bein’ what wins.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The game began. At first Madeline and Dorothy essayed to direct the
+      endeavors of their respective players. But all they said and did only made
+      their team play the worse. At the third hole they were far behind and
+      hopelessly bewildered. What with Monty’s borrowed coat, with its dazzling
+      effect upon Ambrose, and Link’s oft-repeated allusion to Ed’s matrimonial
+      state, and Stillwell’s vociferated disgust, and the clamoring good
+      intention and pursuit of the cowboy supporters, and the embarrassing
+      presence of the ladies, Ambrose and Ed wore through all manner of strange
+      play until it became ridiculous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hey, Link,” came Monty’s voice booming over the links, “our esteemed
+      rivals are playin’ shinny.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline and Dorothy gave up, presently, when the game became a rout, and
+      they sat down with their followers to watch the fun. Whether by hook or
+      crook, Ed and Ambrose forged ahead to come close upon Monty and Link.
+      Castleton disappeared in a mass of gesticulating, shouting cowboys. When
+      that compact mass disintegrated Castleton came forth rather hurriedly, it
+      appeared, to stalk back toward his hostess and friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Look!” exclaimed Helen, in delight. “Castleton is actually excited.
+      Whatever did they do to him? Oh, this is immense!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Castleton was excited, indeed, and also somewhat disheveled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “By Jove! that was a rum go,” he said, as he came up. “Never saw such
+      blooming golf! I resigned my office as umpire.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Only upon considerable pressure did he reveal the reason. “It was like
+      this, don’t you know. They were all together over there, watching each
+      other. Monty Price’s ball dropped into a hazard, and he moved it to
+      improve the lie. By Jove! they’ve all been doing that. But over there the
+      game was waxing hot. Stillwell and his cowboys saw Monty move the ball,
+      and there was a row. They appealed to me. I corrected the play, showed the
+      rules. Monty agreed he was in the wrong. However, when it came to moving
+      his ball back to its former lie in the hazard there was more blooming
+      trouble. Monty placed the ball to suit him, and then he transfixed me with
+      an evil eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “‘Dook,’ he said. I wish the bloody cowboy would not call me that. ‘Dook,
+      mebbe this game ain’t as important as international politics or some other
+      things relatin’, but there’s some health an’ peace dependin’ on it. Savvy?
+      For some space our opponents have been dead to honor an’ sportsmanlike
+      conduct. I calculate the game depends on my next drive. I’m placin’ my
+      ball as near to where it was as human eyesight could. You seen where it
+      was same as I seen it. You’re the umpire, an’, Dook, I take you as a
+      honorable man. Moreover, never in my born days has my word been doubted
+      without sorrow. So I’m askin’ you, wasn’t my ball layin’ just about here?’
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “The bloody little desperado smiled cheerfully, and he dropped his right
+      hand down to the butt of his gun. By Jove, he did! Then I had to tell a
+      blooming lie!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Castleton even caught the tone of Monty’s voice, but it was plain that he
+      had not the least conception that Monty had been fooling. Madeline and her
+      friends divined it, however; and, there being no need of reserve, they let
+      loose the fountains of mirth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XIV. Bandits
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      When Madeline and her party recovered composure they sat up to watch the
+      finish of the match. It came with spectacular suddenness. A sharp yell
+      pealed out, and all the cowboys turned attentively in its direction. A big
+      black horse had surmounted the rim of the mesa and was just breaking into
+      a run. His rider yelled sharply to the cowboys. They wheeled to dash
+      toward their grazing horses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “That’s Stewart. There is something wrong,” said Madeline, in alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Castleton stared. The other men exclaimed uneasily. The women sought
+      Madeline’s face with anxious eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The black got into his stride and bore swiftly down upon them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, look at that horse run!” cried Helen. “Look at that fellow ride!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was not alone in her admiration, for Madeline divided her emotions
+      between growing alarm of some danger menacing and a thrill and quickening
+      of pulse-beat that tingled over her whenever she saw Stewart in violent
+      action. No action of his was any longer insignificant, but violent action
+      meant so much. It might mean anything. For one moment she remembered
+      Stillwell and all his talk about fun, and plots, and tricks to amuse her
+      guest. Then she discountenanced the thought. Stewart might lend himself to
+      a little fun, but he cared too much for a horse to run him at that speed
+      unless there was imperious need. That alone sufficed to answer Madeline’s
+      questioning curiosity. And her alarm mounted to fear not so much for
+      herself as for her guests. But what danger could there be? She could think
+      of nothing except the guerrillas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whatever threatened, it would be met and checked by this man Stewart, who
+      was thundering up on his fleet horse; and as he neared her, so that she
+      could see the dark gleam of face and eyes, she had a strange feeling of
+      trust in her dependence upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The big black was so close to Madeline and her friends that when Stewart
+      pulled him the dust and sand kicked up by his pounding hoofs flew in their
+      faces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, Stewart, what is it?” cried Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Guess I scared you, Miss Hammond,” he replied. “But I’m pressed for time.
+      There’s a gang of bandits hiding on the ranch, most likely in a deserted
+      hut. They held up a train near Agua Prieta. Pat Hawe is with the posse
+      that’s trailing them, and you know Pat has no use for us. I’m afraid it
+      wouldn’t be pleasant for you or your guests to meet either the posse or
+      the bandits.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I fancy not,” said Madeline, considerably relieved. “We’ll hurry back to
+      the house.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They exchanged no more speech at the moment, and Madeline’s guests were
+      silent. Perhaps Stewart’s actions and looks belied his calm words. His
+      piercing eyes roved round the rim of the mesa, and his face was as hard
+      and stern as chiseled bronze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty and Nick came galloping up, each leading several horses by the
+      bridles. Nels appeared behind them with Majesty, and he was having trouble
+      with the roan. Madeline observed that all the other cowboys had
+      disappeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One sharp word from Stewart calmed Madeline’s horse; the other horses,
+      however, were frightened and not inclined to stand. The men mounted
+      without trouble, and likewise Madeline and Florence. But Edith Wayne and
+      Mrs. Beck, being nervous and almost helpless, were with difficulty gotten
+      into the saddle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Beg pardon, but I’m pressed for time,” said Stewart, coolly, as with iron
+      arm he forced Dorothy’s horse almost to its knees. Dorothy, who was active
+      and plucky, climbed astride; and when Stewart loosed his hold on bit and
+      mane the horse doubled up and began to buck. Dorothy screamed as she shot
+      into the air. Stewart, as quick as the horse, leaped forward and caught
+      Dorothy in his arms. She had slipped head downward and, had he not caught
+      her, would have had a serious fall. Stewart, handling her as if she were a
+      child, turned her right side up to set her upon her feet. Dorothy
+      evidently thought only of the spectacle she presented, and made startled
+      motions to readjust her riding-habit. It was no time to laugh, though
+      Madeline felt as if she wanted to. Besides, it was impossible to be
+      anything but sober with Stewart in violent mood. For he had jumped at
+      Dorothy’s stubborn mount. All cowboys were masters of horses. It was
+      wonderful to see him conquer the vicious animal. He was cruel, perhaps,
+      yet it was from necessity. When, presently, he led the horse back to
+      Dorothy she mounted without further trouble. Meanwhile, Nels and Nick had
+      lifted Helen into her saddle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “We’ll take the side trail,” said Stewart, shortly, as he swung upon the
+      big black. Then he led the way, and the other cowboys trotted in the rear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only a short distance to the rim of the mesa, and when Madeline saw
+      the steep trail, narrow and choked with weathered stone, she felt that her
+      guests would certainly flinch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “That’s a jolly bad course,” observed Castleton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The women appeared to be speechless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart checked his horse at the deep cut where the trail started down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Boys, drop over, and go slow,” he said, dismounting. “Flo, you follow.
+      Now, ladies, let your horses loose and hold on. Lean forward and hang to
+      the pommel. It looks bad. But the horses are used to such trails.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen followed closely after Florence; Mrs. Beck went next, and then Edith
+      Wayne. Dorothy’s horse balked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m not so—so frightened,” said Dorothy. “If only he would behave!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She began to urge him into the trail, making him rear, when Stewart
+      grasped the bit and jerked the horse down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Put your foot in my stirrup,” said Stewart. “We can’t waste time.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He lifted her upon his horse and started him down over the rim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Go on, Miss Hammond. I’ll have to lead this nag down. It’ll save time.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Madeline attended to the business of getting down herself. It was a
+      loose trail. The weathered slopes seemed to slide under the feet of the
+      horses. Dust-clouds formed; rocks rolled and rattled down; cactus spikes
+      tore at horse and rider. Mrs. Beck broke into laughter, and there was a
+      note in it that suggested hysteria. Once or twice Dorothy murmured
+      plaintively. Half the time Madeline could not distinguish those ahead
+      through the yellow dust. It was dry and made her cough. The horses
+      snorted. She heared Stewart close behind, starting little avalanches that
+      kept rolling on Majesty’s fetlocks. She feared his legs might be cut or
+      bruised, for some of the stones cracked by and went rattling down the
+      slope. At length the clouds of dust thinned and Madeline saw the others
+      before her ride out upon a level. Soon she was down, and Stewart also.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here there was a delay, occasioned by Stewart changing Dorothy from his
+      horse to her own. This struck Madeline as being singular, and made her
+      thoughtful. In fact, the alert, quiet manner of all the cowboys was not
+      reassuring. As they resumed the ride it was noticeable that Nels and Nick
+      were far in advance, Monty stayed far in the rear, and Stewart rode with
+      the party. Madeline heard Boyd Harvey ask Stewart if lawlessness such as
+      he had mentioned was not unusual. Stewart replied that, except for
+      occasional deeds of outlawry such as might break out in any isolated
+      section of the country, there had been peace and quiet along the border
+      for years. It was the Mexican revolution that had revived wild times, with
+      all the attendant raids and holdups and gun-packing. Madeline knew that
+      they were really being escorted home under armed guard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they rounded the head of the mesa, bringing into view the ranch-house
+      and the valley, Madeline saw dust or smoke hovering over a hut upon the
+      outskirts of the Mexican quarters. As the sun had set and the light was
+      fading, she could not distinguish which it was. Then Stewart set a fast
+      pace for the house. In a few minutes the party was in the yard, ready and
+      willing to dismount.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell appeared, ostensibly cheerful, too cheerful to deceive Madeline.
+      She noted also that a number of armed cowboys were walking with their
+      horses just below the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, you-all had a nice little run,” Stillwell said, speaking generally.
+      “I reckon there wasn’t much need of it. Pat Hawe thinks he’s got some
+      outlaws corralled on the ranch. Nothin’ at all to be fussed up about.
+      Stewart’s that particular he won’t have you meetin’ with any rowdies.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Many and fervent were the expressions of relief from Madeline’s feminine
+      guests as they dismounted and went into the house. Madeline lingered
+      behind to speak with Stillwell and Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Now, Stillwell, out with it,” she said, briefly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cattleman stared, and then he laughed, evidently pleased with her
+      keenness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Miss Majesty, there’s goin’ to be a fight somewhere, an’ Stewart
+      wanted to get you-all in before it come off. He says the valley’s overrun
+      by vaqueros an’ guerrillas an’ robbers, an’ Lord knows what else.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stamped off the porch, his huge spurs rattling, and started down the
+      path toward the waiting men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart stood in his familiar attentive position, erect, silent, with a
+      hand on pommel and bridle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, you are exceedingly—thoughtful of my interests,” she said,
+      wanting to thank him, and not readily finding words. “I would not know
+      what to do without you. Is there danger?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m not sure. But I want to be on the safe side.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hesitated. It was no longer easy for her to talk to him, and she did
+      not know why.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “May I know the special orders you gave Nels and Nick and Monty?” she
+      asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Who said I gave those boys special orders?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I heard Stillwell tell them so.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Of course I’ll tell you if you insist. But why should you worry over
+      something that’ll likely never happen?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I insist, Stewart,” she replied, quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “My orders were that at least one of them must be on guard near you day
+      and night—never to be out of hearing of your voice.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I thought as much. But why Nels or Monty or Nick? That seems rather hard
+      on them. For that matter, why put any one to keep guard over me? Do you
+      not trust any other of my cowboys?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’d trust their honesty, but not their ability.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ability? Of what nature?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “With guns.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart!” she exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, you have been having such a good time entertaining your
+      guests that you forget. I’m glad of that. I wish you had not questioned
+      me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Forget what?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Don Carlos and his guerrillas.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Indeed I have not forgotten. Stewart, you still think Don Carlos tried to
+      make off with me—may try it again?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I don’t think. I know.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “And besides all your other duties you have shared the watch with these
+      three cowboys?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It has been going on without my knowledge?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Since when?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Since I brought you down from the mountains last month.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “How long is it to continue?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “That’s hard to say. Till the revolution is over, anyhow.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She mused a moment, looking away to the west, where the great void was
+      filling with red haze. She believed implicitly in him, and the menace
+      hovering near her fell like a shadow upon her present happiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What must I do?” she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I think you ought to send your friends back East—and go with them,
+      until this guerrilla war is over.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why, Stewart, they would be broken-hearted, and so would I.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had no reply for that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “If I do not take your advice it will be the first time since I have come
+      to look to you for so much,” she went on. “Cannot you suggest something
+      else? My friends are having such a splendid visit. Helen is getting well.
+      Oh, I should be sorry to see them go before they want to.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “We might take them up into the mountains and camp out for a while,” he
+      said, presently. “I know a wild place up among the crags. It’s a hard
+      climb, but worth the work. I never saw a more beautiful spot. Fine water,
+      and it will be cool. Pretty soon it’ll be too hot here for your party to
+      go out-of-doors.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You mean to hide me away among the crags and clouds?” replied Madeline,
+      with a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, it’d amount to that. Your friends need not know. Perhaps in a few
+      weeks this spell of trouble on the border will be over till fall.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You say it’s a hard climb up to this place?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It surely is. Your friends will get the real thing if they make that
+      trip.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “That suits me. Helen especially wants something to happen. And they are
+      all crazy for excitement.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “They’d get it up there. Bad trails, canyons to head, steep climbs,
+      wind-storms, thunder and lightning, rain, mountain-lions and wildcats.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Very well, I am decided. Stewart, of course you will take charge? I don’t
+      believe I—Stewart, isn’t there something more you could tell me—why
+      you think, why you know my own personal liberty is in peril?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes. But do not ask me what it is. If I hadn’t been a rebel soldier I
+      would never have known.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “If you had not been a rebel soldier, where would Madeline Hammond be
+      now?” she asked, earnestly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He made no reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart,” she continued, with warm impulse, “you once mentioned a debt
+      you owed me—” And seeing his dark face pale, she wavered, then went
+      on. “It is paid.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No, no,” he answered, huskily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes. I will not have it otherwise.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No. That never can be paid.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline held out her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It is paid, I tell you,” she repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly he drew back from the outstretched white hand that seemed to
+      fascinate him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’d kill a man to touch your hand. But I won’t touch it on the terms you
+      offer.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His unexpected passion disconcerted her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, no man ever before refused to shake hands with me, for any
+      reason. It—it is scarcely flattering,” she said, with a little
+      laugh. “Why won’t you? Because you think I offer it as mistress to servant—rancher
+      to cowboy?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then why? The debt you owed me is paid. I cancel it. So why not shake
+      hands upon it, as men do?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I won’t. That’s all.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I fear you are ungracious, whatever your reason,” she replied. “Still, I
+      may offer it again some day. Good night.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He said good night and turned. Madeline wonderingly watched him go down
+      the path with his hand on the black horse’s neck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She went in to rest a little before dressing for dinner, and, being
+      fatigued from the day’s riding and excitement, she fell asleep. When she
+      awoke it was twilight. She wondered why her Mexican maid had not come to
+      her, and she rang the bell. The maid did not put in an appearance, nor was
+      there any answer to the ring. The house seemed unusually quiet. It was a
+      brooding silence, which presently broke to the sound of footsteps on the
+      porch. Madeline recognized Stillwell’s tread, though it appeared to be
+      light for him. Then she heard him call softly in at the open door of her
+      office. The suggestion of caution in his voice suited the strangeness of
+      his walk. With a boding sense of trouble she hurried through the rooms. He
+      was standing outside her office door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stillwell!” she exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Anybody with you?” he asked, in a low tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Please come out on the porch,” he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She complied, and, once out, was enabled to see him. His grave face, paler
+      than she had ever beheld it, caused her to stretch an appealing hand
+      toward him. Stillwell intercepted it and held it in his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, I’m amazin’ sorry to tell worrisome news.” He spoke almost
+      in a whisper, cautiously looked about him, and seemed both hurried and
+      mysterious. “If you’d heerd Stewart cuss you’d sure know how we hate to
+      hev to tell you this. But it can’t be avoided. The fact is we’re in a bad
+      fix. If your guests ain’t scared out of their skins it’ll be owin’ to your
+      nerve an’ how you carry out Stewart’s orders.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You can rely upon me,” replied Madeline, firmly, though she trembled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, what we’re up against is this: that gang of bandits Pat Hawe was
+      chasin’—they’re hidin’ in the house!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “In the house?” echoed Madeline, aghast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, it’s the amazin’ truth, an’ shamed indeed am I to admit it.
+      Stewart—why, he’s wild with rage to think it could hev happened. You
+      see, it couldn’t hev happened if I hedn’t sloped the boys off to the
+      gol-lof-links, an’ if Stewart hedn’t rid out on the mesa after us. It’s my
+      fault. I’ve hed too much femininity around fer my old haid. Gene cussed me—he
+      cussed me sure scandalous. But now we’ve got to face it—to figger.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Do you mean that a gang of hunted outlaws—bandits—have
+      actually taken refuge somewhere in my house?” demanded Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I sure do. Seems powerful strange to me why you didn’t find somethin’ was
+      wrong, seem’ all your servants hev sloped.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gone? Ah, I missed my maid! I wondered why no lights were lit. Where did
+      my servants go?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Down to the Mexican quarters, an’ scared half to death. Now listen. When
+      Stewart left you an hour or so ago he follered me direct to where me an’
+      the boys was tryin’ to keep Pat Hawe from tearin’ the ranch to pieces. At
+      that we was helpin’ Pat all we could to find them bandits. But when
+      Stewart got there he made a difference. Pat was nasty before, but seein’
+      Stewart made him wuss. I reckon Gene to Pat is the same as red to a
+      Greaser bull. Anyway, when the sheriff set fire to an old adobe hut
+      Stewart called him an’ called him hard. Pat Hawe hed six fellers with him,
+      an’ from all appearances bandit-huntin’ was some fiesta. There was a row,
+      an ‘it looked bad fer a little. But Gene was cool, an’ he controlled the
+      boys. Then Pat an’ his tough de-pooties went on huntin’. That huntin’,
+      Miss Majesty, petered out into what was only a farce. I reckon Pat could
+      hev kept on foolin’ me an’ the boys, but as soon as Stewart showed up on
+      the scene—wal, either Pat got to blunderin’ or else we-all shed our
+      blinders. Anyway, the facts stood plain. Pat Hawe wasn’t lookin’ hard fer
+      any bandits; he wasn’t daid set huntin’ anythin’, unless it was trouble
+      fer Stewart. Finally, when Pat’s men made fer our storehouse, where we
+      keep ammunition, grub, liquors, an’ sich, then Gene called a halt. An’ he
+      ordered Pat Hawe off the ranch. It was hyar Hawe an’ Stewart locked horns.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “An’ hyar the truth come out. There was a gang of bandits hid somewheres,
+      an’ at fust Pat Hawe hed been powerful active an’ earnest in his huntin’.
+      But sudden-like he’d fetched a pecooliar change of heart. He had been some
+      flustered with Stewart’s eyes a-pryin’ into his moves, an’ then, mebbe to
+      hide somethin’, mebbe jest nat’rul, he got mad. He hollered law. He pulled
+      down off the shelf his old stock grudge on Stewart, accusin’ him over
+      again of that Greaser murder last fall. Stewart made him look like a fool—showed
+      him up as bein’ scared of the bandits or hevin’ some reason fer slopin’
+      off the trail. Anyway, the row started all right, an’ but fer Nels it
+      might hev amounted to a fight. In the thick of it, when Stewart was
+      drivin’ Pat an’ his crowd off the place, one of them de-pooties lost his
+      head an’ went fer his gun. Nels throwed his gun an’ crippled the feller’s
+      arm. Monty jumped then an’ throwed two forty-fives, an’ fer a second or so
+      it looked ticklish. But the bandit-hunters crawled, an’ then lit out.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell paused in the rapid delivery of his narrative; he still retained
+      Madeline’s hand, as if by that he might comfort her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “After Pat left we put our haids together,” began the old cattleman, with
+      a long respiration. “We rounded up a lad who hed seen a dozen or so
+      fellers—he wouldn’t to they was Greasers—breakin’ through the
+      shrubbery to the back of the house. That was while Stewart was ridin’ out
+      to the mesa. Then this lad seen your servants all runnin’ down the hill
+      toward the village. Now, heah’s the way Gene figgers. There sure was some
+      deviltry down along the railroad, an’ Pat Hawe trailed bandits up to the
+      ranch. He hunts hard an’ then all to onct he quits. Stewart says Pat Hawe
+      wasn’t scared, but he discovered signs or somethin’, or got wind in some
+      strange way that there was in the gang of bandits some fellers he didn’t
+      want to ketch. Sabe? Then Gene, quicker ’n a flash, springs his plan on
+      me. He’d go down to Padre Marcos an’ hev him help to find out all possible
+      from your Mexican servants. I was to hurry up hyar an’ tell you—give
+      you orders, Miss Majesty. Ain’t that amazin’ strange? Wal, you’re to
+      assemble all your guests in the kitchen. Make a grand bluff an’ pretend,
+      as your help has left, that it’ll be great fun fer your guests to cook
+      dinner. The kitchen is the safest room in the house. While you’re joshin’
+      your party along, makin’ a kind of picnic out of it, I’ll place cowboys in
+      the long corridor, an’ also outside in the corner where the kitchen joins
+      on to the main house. It’s pretty sure the bandits think no one’s wise to
+      where they’re hid. Stewart says they’re in that end room where the alfalfa
+      is, an’ they’ll slope in the night. Of course, with me an’ the boys
+      watchin’, you-all will be safe to go to bed. An’ we’re to rouse your
+      guests early before daylight, to hit the trail up into the mountains. Tell
+      them to pack outfits before goin’ to bed. Say as your servants hev sloped,
+      you might as well go campin’ with the cowboys. That’s all. If we hev any
+      luck your’ friends’ll never know they’ve been sittin’ on a powder-mine.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stillwell, do you advise that trip up into the mountains?” asked
+      Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon I do, considerin’ everythin’. Now, Miss Majesty, I’ve used up a
+      lot of time explainin’. You’ll sure keep your nerve?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” Madeline replied, and was surprised at herself. “Better tell
+      Florence. She’ll be a power of comfort to you. I’m goin’ now to fetch up
+      the boys.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Instead of returning to her room Madeline went through the office into the
+      long corridor. It was almost as dark as night. She fancied she saw a
+      slow-gliding figure darker than the surrounding gloom; and she entered
+      upon the fulfilment of her part of the plan in something like trepidation.
+      Her footsteps were noiseless. Finding the door to the kitchen, and going
+      in, she struck lights. Upon passing out again she made certain she
+      discerned a dark shape, now motionless, crouching along the wall. But she
+      mistrusted her vivid imagination. It took all her boldness to enable her
+      unconcernedly and naturally to strike the corridor light. Then she went on
+      through her own rooms and thence into the patio.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her guests laughingly and gladly entered into the spirit of the occasion.
+      Madeline fancied her deceit must have been perfect, seeing that it
+      deceived even Florence. They trooped merrily into the kitchen. Madeline,
+      delaying at the door, took a sharp but unobtrusive glance down the great,
+      barnlike hall. She saw nothing but blank dark space. Suddenly from one
+      side, not a rod distant, protruded a pale, gleaming face breaking the even
+      blackness. Instantly it flashed back out of sight. Yet that time was long
+      enough for Madeline to see a pair of glittering eyes, and to recognize
+      them as Don Carlos’s.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Without betraying either hurry or alarm, she closed the door. It had a
+      heavy bolt which she slowly, noiselessly shot. Then the cold amaze that
+      had all but stunned her into inaction throbbed into wrath. How dared that
+      Mexican steal into her home! What did he mean? Was he one of the bandits
+      supposed to be hidden in her house? She was thinking herself into greater
+      anger and excitement, and probably would have betrayed herself had not
+      Florence, who had evidently seen her bolt the door and now read her
+      thoughts, come toward her with a bright, intent, questioning look.
+      Madeline caught herself in time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon she gave each of her guests a duty to perform. Leading Florence
+      into the pantry, she unburdened herself of the secret in one brief
+      whisper. Florence’s reply was to point out of the little open window,
+      passing which was a file of stealthily moving cowboys. Then Madeline lost
+      both anger and fear, retaining only the glow of excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline could be gay, and she initiated the abandonment of dignity by
+      calling Castleton into the pantry, and, while interesting him in some
+      pretext or other, imprinting the outlines of her flour-covered hands upon
+      the back of his black coat. Castleton innocently returned to the kitchen
+      to be greeted with a roar. That surprising act of the hostess set the
+      pace, and there followed a merry, noisy time. Everybody helped. The
+      miscellaneous collection of dishes so confusingly contrived made up a
+      dinner which they all heartily enjoyed. Madeline enjoyed it herself, even
+      with the feeling of a sword hanging suspended over her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The hour was late when she rose from the table and told her guests to go
+      to their rooms, don their riding-clothes, pack what they needed for the
+      long and adventurous camping trip that she hoped would be the climax of
+      their Western experience, and to snatch a little sleep before the cowboys
+      roused them for the early start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline went immediately to her room, and was getting out her camping
+      apparel when a knock interrupted her. She thought Florence had come to
+      help her pack. But this knock was upon the door opening out in the porch.
+      It was repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Who’s there?” she questioned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart,” came the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She opened the door. He stood on the threshold. Beyond him, indistinct in
+      the gloom, were several cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “May I speak to you?” he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Certainly.” She hesitated a moment, then asked him in and closed the
+      door. “Is—is everything all right?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No. These bandits stick to cover pretty close. They must have found out
+      we’re on the watch. But I’m sure we’ll get you and your friends away
+      before anything starts. I wanted to tell you that I’ve talked with your
+      servants. They were just scared. They’ll come back to-morrow, soon as Bill
+      gets rid of this gang. You need not worry about them or your property.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Do you have any idea who is hiding in the house?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I was worried some at first. Pat Hawe acted queer. I imagined he’d
+      discovered he was trailing bandits who might turn out to be his smuggling
+      guerrilla cronies. But talking with your servants, finding a bunch of
+      horses upon hidden down in the mesquite behind the pond—several
+      things have changed my mind. My idea is that a cowardly handful of
+      riffraff outcasts from the border have hidden in your house, more by
+      accident than design. We’ll let them go—get rid of them without even
+      a shot. If I didn’t think so—well, I’d be considerably worried. It
+      would make a different state of affairs.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, you are wrong,” she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He started, but his reply did not follow swiftly. The expression of his
+      eyes altered. Presently he spoke:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “How so?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I saw one of these bandits. I distinctly recognized him.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One long step brought him close to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Who was he?” demanded Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Don Carlos.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He muttered low and deep, then said, “Are you sure?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Absolutely. I saw his figure twice in the hall, then his face in the
+      light. I could never mistake his eyes.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Did he know you saw him?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am not positive, but I think so. Oh, he must have known! I was standing
+      full in the light. I had entered the door, then purposely stepped out. His
+      face showed from around a corner, and swiftly flashed out of sight.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was tremblingly conscious that Stewart underwent a
+      transformation. She saw as well as felt the leaping passion that changed
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Call your friends—get them in here!” he ordered, tersely, and
+      wheeled toward the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, wait!” she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned. His white face, his burning eyes, his presence now charged with
+      definite, fearful meaning, influenced her strangely, weakened her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What will you do?” she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “That needn’t concern you. Get your party in here. Bar the windows and
+      lock the doors. You’ll be safe.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart! Tell me what you intend to do.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I won’t tell you,” he replied, and turned away again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “But I will know,” she said. With a hand on his arm she detained him. She
+      saw how he halted—felt the shock in him as she touched him. “Oh, I
+      do know. You mean to fight!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, Miss Hammond, isn’t it about time?” he asked. Evidently he overcame
+      a violent passion for instant action. There was weariness, dignity, even
+      reproof in his question. “The fact of that Mexican’s presence here in your
+      house ought to prove to you the nature of the case. These vaqueros, these
+      guerrillas, have found out you won’t stand for any fighting on the part of
+      your men. Don Carlos is a sneak, a coward, yet he’s not afraid to hide in
+      your own house. He has learned you won’t let your cowboys hurt anybody.
+      He’s taking advantage of it. He’ll rob, burn, and make off with you. He’ll
+      murder, too, if it falls his way. These Greasers use knives in the dark.
+      So I ask—isn’t it about time we stop him?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, I forbid you to fight, unless in self-defense. I forbid you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “What I mean to do is self-defense. Haven’t I tried to explain to you that
+      just now we’ve wild times along this stretch of border? Must I tell you
+      again that Don Carlos is hand and glove with the revolution? The rebels
+      are crazy to stir up the United States. You are a woman of prominence. Don
+      Carlos would make off with you. If he got you, what little matter to cross
+      the border with you! Well, where would the hue and cry go? Through the
+      troops along the border! To New York! To Washington! Why, it would mean
+      what the rebels are working for—United States intervention. In other
+      words, war!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, surely you exaggerate!” she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Maybe so. But I’m beginning to see the Don’s game. And, Miss Hammond, I—It’s
+      awful for me to think what you’d suffer if Don Carlos got you over the
+      line. I know these low-caste Mexicans. I’ve been among the peons—the
+      slaves.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, don’t let Don Carlos get me,” replied Madeline, in sweet
+      directness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She saw him shake, saw his throat swell as he swallowed hard, saw the hard
+      fierceness return to his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I won’t. That’s why I’m going after him.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “But I forbade you to start a fight deliberately.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then I’ll go ahead and start one without your permission,” he replied
+      shortly, and again he wheeled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This time, when Madeline caught his arm she held to it, even after he
+      stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No,” she said, imperiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook off her hand and strode forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Please don’t go!” she called, beseechingly. But he kept on. “Stewart!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She ran ahead of him, intercepted him, faced him with her back against the
+      door. He swept out a long arm as if to brush her aside. But it wavered and
+      fell. Haggard, troubled, with working face, he stood before her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It’s for your sake,” he expostulated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “If it is for my sake, then do what pleases me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “These guerrillas will knife somebody. They’ll burn the house. They’ll
+      make off with you. They’ll do something bad unless we stop them.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Let us risk all that,” she importuned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “But it’s a terrible risk, and it oughtn’t be run,” he exclaimed,
+      passionately. “I know best here. Stillwell upholds me. Let me out, Miss
+      Hammond. I’m going to take the boys and go after these guerrillas.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Good Heavens!” exclaimed Stewart. “Why not let me go? It’s the thing to
+      do. I’m sorry to distress you and your guests. Why not put an end to Don
+      Carlos’s badgering? Is it because you’re afraid a rumpus will spoil your
+      friends’ visit?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It isn’t—not this time.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then it’s the idea of a little shooting at these Greasers?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You’re sick to think of a little Greaser blood staining the halls of your
+      home?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, then, why keep me from doing what I know is best?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, I—I—” she faltered, in growing agitation. “I’m
+      frightened—confused. All this is too—too much for me. I’m not
+      a coward. If you have to fight you’ll see I’m not a coward. But your way
+      seems so reckless—that hall is so dark—the guerrillas would
+      shoot from behind doors. You’re so wild, so daring, you’d rush right into
+      peril. Is that necessary? I think—I mean—I don’t know just why
+      I feel so—so about you doing it. But I believe it’s because I’m
+      afraid you—you might be hurt.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You’re afraid I—I might be hurt?” he echoed, wonderingly, the hard
+      whiteness of his face warming, flushing, glowing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The single word, with all it might mean, with all it might not mean,
+      softened him as if by magic, made him gentle, amazed, shy as a boy,
+      stifling under a torrent of emotions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline thought she had persuaded him—worked her will with him.
+      Then another of his startlingly sudden moves told her that she had
+      reckoned too quickly. This move was to put her firmly aside so he could
+      pass; and Madeline, seeing he would not hesitate to lift her out of the
+      way, surrendered the door. He turned on the threshold. His face was still
+      working, but the flame-pointed gleam of his eyes indicated the return of
+      that cowboy ruthlessness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m going to drive Don Carlos and his gang out of the house,” declared
+      Stewart. “I think I may promise you to do it without a fight. But if it
+      takes a fight, off he goes!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XV. The Mountain Trail
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      As Stewart departed from one door Florence knocked upon another; and
+      Madeline, far shaken out of her usual serenity, admitted the cool Western
+      girl with more than gladness. Just to have her near helped Madeline to get
+      back her balance. She was conscious of Florence’s sharp scrutiny, then of
+      a sweet, deliberate change of manner. Florence might have been burning
+      with curiosity to know more about the bandits hidden in the house, the
+      plans of the cowboys, the reason for Madeline’s suppressed emotion; but
+      instead of asking Madeline questions she introduced the important subject
+      of what to take on the camping trip. For an hour they discussed the need
+      of this and that article, selected those things most needful, and then
+      packed them in Madeline’s duffle-bags.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That done, they decided to lie down, fully dressed as they were in
+      riding-costume, and sleep, or at least rest, the little remaining time
+      left before the call to saddle. Madeline turned out the light and, peeping
+      through her window, saw dark forms standing sentinel-like in the gloom.
+      When she lay down she heard soft steps on the path. This fidelity to her
+      swelled her heart, while the need of it presaged that fearful something
+      which, since Stewart’s passionate appeal to her, haunted her as
+      inevitable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline did not expect to sleep, yet she did sleep, and it seemed to have
+      been only a moment until Florence called her. She followed Florence
+      outside. It was the dark hour before dawn. She could discern saddled
+      horses being held by cowboys. There was an air of hurry and mystery about
+      the departure. Helen, who came tip-toeing out with Madeline’s other
+      guests, whispered that it was like an escape. She was delighted. The
+      others were amused. To Madeline it was indeed an escape.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the darkness Madeline could not see how many escorts her party was to
+      have. She heard low voices, the champing of bits and thumping of hoofs,
+      and she recognized Stewart when he led up Majesty for her to mount. Then
+      came a pattering of soft feet and the whining of dogs. Cold noses touched
+      her hands, and she saw the long, gray, shaggy shapes of her pack of
+      Russian wolf-hounds. That Stewart meant to let them go with her was
+      indicative of how he studied her pleasure. She loved to be out with the
+      hounds and her horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart led Majesty out into the darkness past a line of mounted horses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Guess we’re ready?” he said. “I’ll make the count.” He went back along
+      the line, and on the return Madeline heard him say several times, “Now,
+      everybody ride close to the horse in front, and keep quiet till daylight.”
+       Then the snorting and pounding of the big black horse in front of her told
+      Madeline that Stewart had mounted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “All right, we’re off,” he called.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline lifted Majesty’s bridle and let the roan go. There was a crack
+      and crunch of gravel, fire struck from stone, a low whinny, a snort, and
+      then steady, short, clip-clop of iron hoofs on hard ground. Madeline could
+      just discern Stewart and his black outlined in shadowy gray before her.
+      Yet they were almost within touching distance. Once or twice one of the
+      huge stag-hounds leaped up at her and whined joyously. A thick belt of
+      darkness lay low, and seemed to thin out above to a gray fog, through
+      which a few wan stars showed. It was altogether an unusual departure from
+      the ranch; and Madeline, always susceptible even to ordinary incident that
+      promised well, now found herself thrillingly sensitive to the soft beat of
+      hoofs, the feel of cool, moist air, the dim sight of Stewart’s dark
+      figure. The caution, the early start before dawn, the enforced silence—these
+      lent the occasion all that was needful to make it stirring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Majesty plunged into a gully, where sand and rough going made Madeline
+      stop romancing to attend to riding. In the darkness Stewart was not so
+      easy to keep close to even on smooth trails, and now she had to be
+      watchfully attentive to do it. Then followed a long march through dragging
+      sand. Meantime the blackness gradually changed to gray. At length Majesty
+      climbed out of the wash, and once more his iron shoes rang on stone. He
+      began to climb. The figure of Stewart and his horse loomed more distinctly
+      in Madeline’s sight. Bending over, she tried to see the trail, but could
+      not. She wondered how Stewart could follow a trail in the dark. His eyes
+      must be as piercing as they sometimes looked. Over her shoulder Madeline
+      could not see the horse behind her, but she heard him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Majesty climbed steadily Madeline saw the gray darkness grow opaque,
+      change and lighten, lose its substance, and yield the grotesque shapes of
+      yucca and ocotillo. Dawn was about to break. Madeline imagined she was
+      facing east, still she saw no brightening of sky. All at once, to her
+      surprise, Stewart and his powerful horse stood clear in her sight. She saw
+      the characteristic rock and cactus and brush that covered the foothills.
+      The trail was old and seldom used, and it zigzagged and turned and
+      twisted. Looking back, she saw the short, squat figure of Monty Price
+      humped over his saddle. Monty’s face was hidden under his sombrero. Behind
+      him rode Dorothy Coombs, and next loomed up the lofty form of Nick Steele.
+      Madeline and the members of her party were riding between cowboy escorts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bright daylight came, and Madeline saw the trail was leading up through
+      foothills. It led in a round-about way through shallow gullies full of
+      stone and brush washed down by floods. At every turn now Madeline expected
+      to come upon water and the waiting pack-train. But time passed, and miles
+      of climbing, and no water or horses were met. Expectation in Madeline gave
+      place to desire; she was hungry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Stewart’s horse went splashing into a shallow pool. Beyond that
+      damp places in the sand showed here and there, and again more water in
+      rocky pockets. Stewart kept on. It was eight o’clock by Madeline’s watch
+      when, upon turning into a wide hollow, she saw horses grazing on spare
+      grass, a great pile of canvas-covered bundles, and a fire round which
+      cowboys and two Mexican women were busy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline sat her horse and reviewed her followers as they rode up single
+      file. Her guests were in merry mood, and they all talked at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Breakfast—and rustle,” called out Stewart, without ceremony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No need to tell me to rustle,” said Helen. “I am simply ravenous. This
+      air makes me hungry.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For that matter, Madeline observed Helen did not show any marked contrast
+      to the others. The hurry order, however, did not interfere with the meal
+      being somewhat in the nature of a picnic. While they ate and talked and
+      laughed the cowboys were packing horses and burros and throwing the
+      diamond-hitch, a procedure so interesting to Castleton that he got up with
+      coffee-cup in hand and tramped from one place to another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Heard of that diamond-hitch-up,” he observed to a cowboy. “Bally nice
+      little job!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as the pack-train was in readiness Stewart started it off in the
+      lead to break trail. A heavy growth of shrub interspersed with rock and
+      cactus covered the slopes; and now all the trail appeared to be uphill. It
+      was not a question of comfort for Madeline and her party, for comfort was
+      impossible; it was a matter of making the travel possible for him.
+      Florence wore corduroy breeches and high-top boots, and the advantage of
+      this masculine garb was at once in evidence. The riding-habits of the
+      other ladies suffered considerably from the sharp spikes. It took all
+      Madeline’s watchfulness to save her horse’s legs, to pick the best bits of
+      open ground, to make cut-offs from the trail, and to protect herself from
+      outreaching thorny branches, so that the time sped by without her knowing
+      it. The pack-train forged ahead, and the trailing couples grew farther
+      apart. At noon they got out of the foothills to face the real ascent of
+      the mountains. The sun beat down hot. There was little breeze, and the
+      dust rose thick and hung in a pall. The view was restricted, and what
+      scenery lay open to the eye was dreary and drab, a barren monotony of
+      slow-mounting slopes ridged by rocky canyons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once Stewart waited for Madeline, and as she came up he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “We’re going to have a storm.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “That will be a relief. It’s so hot and dusty,” replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shall I call a halt and make camp?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Here? Oh no! What do you think best?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, if we have a good healthy thunder-storm it will be something new
+      for your friends. I think we’d be wise to keep on the go. There’s no place
+      to make a good camp. The wind would blow us off this slope if the rain
+      didn’t wash us off. It’ll take all-day travel to reach a good camp-site,
+      and I don’t promise that. We’re making slow time. If it rains, let it
+      rain. The pack outfit is well covered. We will have to get wet.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Surely,” replied Madeline; and she smiled at his inference. She knew what
+      a storm was in that country, and her guests had yet to experience one. “If
+      it rains, let it rain.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart rode on, and Madeline followed. Up the slope toiled and nodded the
+      pack-animals, the little burros going easily where the horses labored.
+      Their packs, like the humps of camels, bobbed from side to side. Stones
+      rattled down; the heat-waves wavered black; the dust puffed up and sailed.
+      The sky was a pale blue, like heated steel, except where dark clouds
+      peeped over the mountain crests. A heavy, sultry atmosphere made breathing
+      difficult. Down the slope the trailing party stretched out in twos and
+      threes, and it was easy to distinguish the weary riders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half a mile farther up Madeline could see over the foothills to the north
+      and west and a little south, and she forgot the heat and weariness and
+      discomfort for her guests in wide, unlimited prospects of sun-scorched
+      earth. She marked the gray valley and the black mountains and the wide,
+      red gateway of the desert, and the dim, shadowy peaks, blue as the sky
+      they pierced. She was sorry when the bleak, gnarled cedar-trees shut off
+      her view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then there came a respite from the steep climb, and the way led in a
+      winding course through a matted, storm-wrenched forest of stunted trees.
+      Even up to this elevation the desert reached with its gaunt hand. The
+      clouds overspreading the sky, hiding the sun, made a welcome change. The
+      pack-train rested, and Stewart and Madeline waited for the party to come
+      up. Here he briefly explained to her that Don Carlos and his bandits had
+      left the ranch some time in the night. Thunder rumbled in the distance,
+      and a faint wind rustled the scant foliage of the cedars. The air grew
+      oppressive; the horses panted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sure it’ll be a hummer,” said Stewart. “The first storm almost always is
+      bad. I can feel it in the air.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The air, indeed, seemed to be charged with a heavy force that was waiting
+      to be liberated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One by one the couples mounted to the cedar forest, and the feminine
+      contingent declaimed eloquently for rest. But there was to be no permanent
+      rest until night and then that depended upon reaching the crags. The
+      pack-train wagged onward, and Stewart fell in behind. The storm-center
+      gathered slowly around the peaks; low rumble and howl of thunder increased
+      in frequence; slowly the light shaded as smoky clouds rolled up; the air
+      grew sultrier, and the exasperating breeze puffed a few times and then
+      failed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An hour later the party had climbed high and was rounding the side of a
+      great bare ridge that long had hidden the crags. The last burro of the
+      pack-train plodded over the ridge out of Madeline’s sight. She looked
+      backward down the slope, amused to see her guests change wearily from side
+      to side in their saddles. Far below lay the cedar flat and the foothills.
+      Far to the west the sky was still clear, with shafts of sunlight shooting
+      down from behind the encroaching clouds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart reached the summit of the ridge and, though only a few rods ahead,
+      he waved to her, sweeping his hand round to what he saw beyond. It was an
+      impressive gesture, and Madeline, never having climbed as high as this,
+      anticipated much.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Majesty surmounted the last few steps and, snorting, halted beside
+      Stewart’s black. To Madeline the scene was as if the world had changed.
+      The ridge was a mountain-top. It dropped before her into a black,
+      stone-ridged, shrub-patched, many-canyoned gulf. Eastward, beyond the
+      gulf, round, bare mountain-heads loomed up. Upward, on the right, led
+      giant steps of cliff and bench and weathered slope to the fir-bordered and
+      pine-fringed crags standing dark and bare against the stormy sky. Massed
+      inky clouds were piling across the peaks, obscuring the highest ones. A
+      fork of white lightning flashed, and, like the booming of an avalanche,
+      thunder followed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That bold world of broken rock under the slow mustering of storm-clouds
+      was a grim, awe-inspiring spectacle. It had beauty, but beauty of the
+      sublime and majestic kind. The fierce desert had reached up to meet the
+      magnetic heights where heat and wind and frost and lightning and flood
+      contended in everlasting strife. And before their onslaught this mighty
+      upflung world of rugged stone was crumbling, splitting, wearing to ruin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline glanced at Stewart. He had forgotten her presence. Immovable as
+      stone, he sat his horse, dark-faced, dark-eyed, and, like an Indian
+      unconscious of thought, he watched and watched. To see him thus, to divine
+      the strange affinity between the soul of this man, become primitive, and
+      the savage environment that had developed him, were powerful helps to
+      Madeline Hammond in her strange desire to understand his nature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A cracking of iron-shod hoofs behind her broke the spell. Monty had
+      reached the summit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene, what it won’t all be doin’ in a minnut Moses hisself couldn’t
+      tell,” observed Monty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Dorothy climbed to his side and looked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, isn’t it just perfectly lovely!” she exclaimed. “But I wish it
+      wouldn’t storm. We’ll all get wet.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Once more Stewart faced the ascent, keeping to the slow heave of the ridge
+      as it rose southward toward the looming spires of rock. Soon he was off
+      smooth ground, and Madeline, some rods behind him, looked back with
+      concern at her friends. Here the real toil, the real climb began, and a
+      mountain storm was about to burst in all its fury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The slope that Stewart entered upon was a magnificent monument to the
+      ruined crags above. It was a southerly slope, and therefore semi-arid,
+      covered with cercocarpus and yucca and some shrub that Madeline believed
+      was manzanita. Every foot of the trail seemed to slide under Majesty. What
+      hard ground there was could not be traveled upon, owing to the spiny
+      covering or masses of shattered rocks. Gullies lined the slope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the sky grew blacker; the slow-gathering clouds appeared to be
+      suddenly agitated; they piled and rolled and mushroomed and obscured the
+      crags. The air moved heavily and seemed to be laden with sulphurous smoke,
+      and sharp lightning flashes began to play. A distant roar of wind could be
+      heard between the peals of thunder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart waited for Madeline under the lee of a shelving cliff, where the
+      cowboys had halted the pack-train. Majesty was sensitive to the flashes of
+      lightning. Madeline patted his neck and softly called to him. The weary
+      burros nodded; the Mexican women covered their heads with their mantles.
+      Stewart untied the slicker at the back of Madeline’s saddle and helped her
+      on with it. Then he put on his own. The other cowboys followed suit.
+      Presently Madeline saw Monty and Dorothy rounding the cliff, and hoped the
+      others would come soon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A blue-white, knotted rope of lightning burned down out of the clouds, and
+      instantly a thunder-clap crashed, seeming to shake the foundations of the
+      earth. Then it rolled, as if banging from cloud to cloud, and boomed along
+      the peaks, and reverberated from deep to low, at last to rumble away into
+      silence. Madeline felt the electricity in Majesty’s mane, and it seemed to
+      tingle through her nerves. The air had a weird, bright cast. The ponderous
+      clouds swallowed more and more of the eastern domes. This moment of the
+      breaking of the storm, with the strange growing roar of wind, like a
+      moaning monster, was pregnant with a heart-disturbing emotion for Madeline
+      Hammond. Glorious it was to be free, healthy, out in the open, under the
+      shadow of the mountain and cloud, in the teeth of the wind and rain and
+      storm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another dazzling blue blaze showed the bold mountain-side and the
+      storm-driven clouds. In the flare of light Madeline saw Stewart’s face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Are you afraid?” she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” he replied, simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the thunderbolt racked the heavens, and as it boomed away in
+      lessening power Madeline reflected with surprise upon Stewart’s answer.
+      Something in his face had made her ask him what she considered a foolish
+      question. His reply amazed her. She loved a storm. Why should he fear it—he,
+      with whom she could not associate fear?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “How strange! Have you not been out in many storms?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A smile that was only a gleam flitted over his dark face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “In hundreds of them. By day, with the cattle stampeding. At night, alone
+      on the mountain, with the pines crashing and the rocks rolling—in
+      flood on the desert.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It’s not only the lightning, then?” she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No. All the storm.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline felt that henceforth she would have less faith in what she had
+      imagined was her love of the elements. What little she knew! If this
+      iron-nerved man feared a storm, then there was something about a storm to
+      fear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And suddenly, as the ground quaked under her horse’s feet, and all the sky
+      grew black and crisscrossed by flaming streaks, and between thunderous
+      reports there was a strange hollow roar sweeping down upon her, she
+      realized how small was her knowledge and experience of the mighty forces
+      of nature. Then, with that perversity of character of which she was wholly
+      conscious, she was humble, submissive, reverent, and fearful even while
+      she gloried in the grandeur of the dark, cloud-shadowed crags and canyons,
+      the stupendous strife of sound, the wonderful driving lances of white
+      fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With blacker gloom and deafening roar came the torrent of rain. It was a
+      cloud-burst. It was like solid water tumbling down. For long Madeline sat
+      her horse, head bent to the pelting rain. When its force lessened and she
+      heard Stewart call for all to follow, she looked up to see that he was
+      starting once more. She shot a glimpse at Dorothy and as quickly glanced
+      away. Dorothy, who would not wear a hat suitable for inclement weather,
+      nor one of the horrid yellow, sticky slickers, was a drenched and
+      disheveled spectacle. Madeline did not trust herself to look at the other
+      girls. It was enough to hear their lament. So she turned her horse into
+      Stewart’s trail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rain fell steadily. The fury of the storm, however, had passed, and the
+      roll of thunder diminished in volume. The air had wonderfully cleared and
+      was growing cool. Madeline began to feel uncomfortably cold and wet.
+      Stewart was climbing faster than formerly, and she noted that Monty kept
+      at her heels, pressing her on. Time had been lost, and the camp-site was a
+      long way off. The stag-hounds began to lag and get footsore. The sharp
+      rocks of the trail were cruel to their feet. Then, as Madeline began to
+      tire, she noticed less and less around her. The ascent grew rougher and
+      steeper—slow toil for panting horses. The thinning rain grew colder,
+      and sometimes a stronger whip of wind lashed stingingly in Madeline’s
+      face. Her horse climbed and climbed, and brush and sharp corners of stone
+      everlastingly pulled and tore at her wet garments. A gray gloom settled
+      down around her. Night was approaching. Majesty heaved upward with a
+      snort, the wet saddle creaked, and an even motion told Madeline she was on
+      level ground. She looked up to see looming crags and spires, like huge
+      pipe-organs, dark at the base and growing light upward. The rain had
+      ceased, but the branches of fir-trees and juniper were water-soaked arms
+      reaching out for her. Through an opening between crags Madeline caught a
+      momentary glimpse of the west. Red sun-shafts shone through the murky,
+      broken clouds. The sun had set.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart’s horse was on a jog-trot now, and Madeline left the trail more to
+      Majesty than to her own choosing. The shadows deepened, and the crags grew
+      gloomy and spectral. A cool wind moaned through the dark trees. Coyotes,
+      scenting the hounds, kept apace of them, and barked and howled off in the
+      gloom. But the tired hounds did not appear to notice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As black night began to envelop her surroundings, Madeline marked that the
+      fir-trees had given place to pine forest. Suddenly a pin-point of light
+      pierced the ebony blackness. Like a solitary star in dark sky it twinkled
+      and blinked. She lost sight of it—found it again. It grew larger.
+      Black tree-trunks crossed her line of vision. The light was a fire. She
+      heard a cowboy song and the wild chorus of a pack of coyotes. Drops of
+      rain on the branches of trees glittered in the rays of the fire. Stewart’s
+      tall figure, with sombrero slouched down, was now and then outlined
+      against a growing circle of light. And by the aid of that light she saw
+      him turn every moment or so to look back, probably to assure himself that
+      she was close behind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a prospect of fire and warmth, and food and rest, Madeline’s
+      enthusiasm revived. What a climb! There was promise in this wild ride and
+      lonely trail and hidden craggy height, not only in the adventure her
+      friends yearned for, but in some nameless joy and spirit for herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XVI. The Crags
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      Glad indeed was Madeline to be lifted off her horse beside a roaring fire—to
+      see steaming pots upon red-hot coals. Except about her shoulders, which
+      had been protected by the slicker, she was wringing wet. The Mexican women
+      came quickly to help her change in a tent near by; but Madeline preferred
+      for the moment to warm her numb feet and hands and to watch the spectacle
+      of her arriving friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy plumped off her saddle into the arms of several waiting cowboys.
+      She could scarcely walk. Far removed in appearance was she from her usual
+      stylish self. Her face was hidden by a limp and lopsided hat. From under
+      the disheveled brim came a plaintive moan: “O-h-h! what a-an a-awful
+      ride!” Mrs. Beck was in worse condition; she had to be taken off her
+      horse. “I’m paralyzed—I’m a wreck. Bobby, get a roller-chair.” Bobby
+      was solicitous and willing, but there were no roller-chairs. Florence
+      dismounted easily, and but for her mass of hair, wet and tumbling, would
+      have been taken for a handsome cowboy. Edith Wayne had stood the physical
+      strain of the ride better than Dorothy; however, as her mount was rather
+      small, she had been more at the mercy of cactus and brush. Her habit hung
+      in tatters. Helen had preserved a remnant of style, as well as of pride,
+      and perhaps a little strength. But her face was white, her eyes were big,
+      and she limped. “Majesty!” she exclaimed. “What did you want to do to us?
+      Kill us outright or make us homesick?” Of all of them, however, Ambrose’s
+      wife, Christine, the little French maid, had suffered the most in that
+      long ride. She was unaccustomed to horses. Ambrose had to carry her into
+      the big tent. Florence persuaded Madeline to leave the fire, and when they
+      went in with the others Dorothy was wailing because her wet boots would
+      not come off, Mrs. Beck was weeping and trying to direct a Mexican woman
+      to unfasten her bedraggled dress, and there was general pandemonium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Warm clothes—hot drinks and grub—warm blankets,” rang out
+      Stewart’s sharp order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, with Florence helping the Mexican women, it was not long until
+      Madeline and the feminine side of the party were comfortable, except for
+      the weariness and aches that only rest and sleep could alleviate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Neither fatigue nor pains, however, nor the strangeness of being packed
+      sardine-like under canvas, nor the howls of coyotes, kept Madeline’s
+      guests from stretching out with long, grateful sighs, and one by one
+      dropping into deep slumber. Madeline whispered a little to Florence, and
+      laughed with her once or twice, and then the light flickering on the
+      canvas faded and her eyelids closed. Darkness and roar of camp life, low
+      voices of men, thump of horses’ hoofs, coyote serenade, the sense of
+      warmth and sweet rest—all drifted away.
+    </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      When she awakened shadows of swaying branches moved on the sunlit canvas
+      above her. She heard the ringing strokes of an ax, but no other sound from
+      outside. Slow, regular breathing attested to the deep slumbers of her tent
+      comrades. She observed presently that Florence was missing from the
+      number. Madeline rose and peeped out between the flaps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An exquisitely beautiful scene surprised and enthralled her gaze. She saw
+      a level space, green with long grass, bright with flowers, dotted with
+      groves of graceful firs and pines and spruces, reaching to superb crags,
+      rosy and golden in the sunlight. Eager to get out where she could enjoy an
+      unrestricted view, she searched for her pack, found it in a corner, and
+      then hurriedly and quietly dressed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her favorite stag-hounds, Russ and Tartar, were asleep before the door,
+      where they had been chained. She awakened them and loosened them, thinking
+      the while that it must have been Stewart who had chained them near her.
+      Close at hand also was a cowboy’s bed rolled up in a tarpaulin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cool air, fragrant with pine and spruce and some subtle nameless tang,
+      sweet and tonic, made Madeline stand erect and breathe slowly and deeply.
+      It was like drinking of a magic draught. She felt it in her blood, that it
+      quickened its flow. Turning to look in the other direction, beyond the
+      tent, she saw the remnants of last night’s temporary camp, and farther on
+      a grove of beautiful pines from which came the sharp ring of the ax. Wider
+      gaze took in a wonderful park, not only surrounded by lofty crags, but
+      full of crags of lesser height, many lifting their heads from dark-green
+      groves of trees. The morning sun, not yet above the eastern elevations,
+      sent its rosy and golden shafts in between the towering rocks, to tip the
+      pines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, with the hounds beside her, walked through the nearest grove.
+      The ground was soft and springy and brown with pine-needles. Then she saw
+      that a clump of trees had prevented her from seeing the most striking part
+      of this natural park. The cowboys had selected a campsite where they would
+      have the morning sun and afternoon shade. Several tents and flies were
+      already up; there was a huge lean-to made of spruce boughs; cowboys were
+      busy round several camp-fires; piles of packs lay covered with tarpaulins,
+      and beds were rolled up under the trees. This space was a kind of rolling
+      meadow, with isolated trees here and there, and other trees in aisles and
+      circles; and it mounted up in low, grassy banks to great towers of stone
+      five hundred feet high. Other crags rose behind these. From under a mossy
+      cliff, huge and green and cool, bubbled a full, clear spring. Wild flowers
+      fringed its banks. Out in the meadow the horses were knee-deep in grass
+      that waved in the morning breeze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence espied Madeline under the trees and came running. She was like a
+      young girl, with life and color and joy. She wore a flannel blouse,
+      corduroy skirt, and moccasins. And her hair was fastened under a band like
+      an Indian’s.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Castleton’s gone with a gun, for hours, it seems,” said Florence. “Gene
+      just went to hunt him up. The other gentlemen are still asleep. I imagine
+      they sure will sleep up heah in this air.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, business-like, Florence fell to questioning Madeline about details
+      of camp arrangement which Stewart, and Florence herself, could hardly see
+      to without suggestion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before any of Madeline’s sleepy guests awakened the camp was completed.
+      Madeline and Florence had a tent under a pine-tree, but they did not
+      intend to sleep in it except during stormy weather. They spread a
+      tarpaulin, made their bed on it, and elected to sleep under the light of
+      the stars. After that, taking the hounds with them, they explored. To
+      Madeline’s surprise, the park was not a little half-mile nook nestling
+      among the crags, but extended farther than they cared to walk, and was
+      rather a series of parks. They were no more than small valleys between
+      gray-toothed peaks. As the day advanced the charm of the place grew upon
+      Madeline. Even at noon, with the sun beating down, there was comfortable
+      warmth rather than heat. It was the kind of warmth that Madeline liked to
+      feel in the spring. And the sweet, thin, rare atmosphere began to affect
+      her strangely. She breathed deeply of it until she felt light-headed, as
+      if her body lacked substance and might drift away like a thistledown. All
+      at once she grew uncomfortably sleepy. A dreamy languor possessed her,
+      and, lying under a pine with her head against Florence, she went to sleep.
+      When she opened her eyes the shadows of the crags stretched from the west,
+      and between them streamed a red-gold light. It was hazy, smoky sunshine
+      losing its fire. The afternoon had far advanced. Madeline sat up. Florence
+      was lazily reading. The two Mexican women were at work under the fly where
+      the big stone fireplace had been erected. No one else was in sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence, upon being questioned, informed Madeline that incident about
+      camp had been delightfully absent. Castleton had returned and was
+      profoundly sleeping with the other men. Presently a chorus of merry calls
+      attracted Madeline’s attention, and she turned to see Helen limping along
+      with Dorothy, and Mrs. Beck and Edith supporting each other. They were all
+      rested, but lame, and delighted with the place, and as hungry as bears
+      awakened from a winter’s sleep. Madeline forthwith escorted them round the
+      camp, and through the many aisles between the trees, and to the mossy,
+      pine-matted nooks under the crags.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then they had dinner, sitting on the ground after the manner of Indians;
+      and it was a dinner that lacked merriment only because everybody was too
+      busily appeasing appetite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Later Stewart led them across a neck of the park, up a rather steep climb
+      between towering crags, to take them out upon a grassy promontory that
+      faced the great open west—a vast, ridged, streaked, and reddened
+      sweep of earth rolling down, as it seemed, to the golden sunset end of the
+      world. Castleton said it was a jolly fine view; Dorothy voiced her usual
+      languid enthusiasm; Helen was on fire with pleasure and wonder; Mrs. Beck
+      appealed to Bobby to see how he liked it before she ventured, and she then
+      reiterated his praise; and Edith Wayne, like Madeline and Florence, was
+      silent. Boyd was politely interested; he was the kind of man who appeared
+      to care for things as other people cared for them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline watched the slow transformation of the changing west, with its
+      haze of desert dust, through which mountain and cloud and sun slowly
+      darkened. She watched until her eyes ached, and scarcely had a thought of
+      what she was watching. When her eyes shifted to encounter the tall form of
+      Stewart standing motionless on the rim, her mind became active again. As
+      usual, he stood apart from the others, and now he seemed aloof and
+      unconscious. He made a dark, powerful figure, and he fitted that wild
+      promontory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She experienced a strange, annoying surprise when she discovered both
+      Helen and Dorothy watching Stewart with peculiar interest. Edith, too, was
+      alive to the splendid picture the cowboy made. But when Edith smiled and
+      whispered in her ear, “It’s so good to look at a man like that,” Madeline
+      again felt the surprise, only this time the accompaniment was a vague
+      pleasure rather than annoyance. Helen and Dorothy were flirts, one
+      deliberate and skilled, the other unconscious and natural. Edith Wayne,
+      occasionally—and Madeline reflected that the occasions were
+      infrequent—admired a man sincerely. Just here Madeline might have
+      fallen into a somewhat revealing state of mind if it had not been for the
+      fact that she believed Stewart was only an object of deep interest to her,
+      not as a man, but as a part of this wild and wonderful West which was
+      claiming her. So she did not inquire of herself why Helen’s coquetry and
+      Dorothy’s languishing allurement annoyed her, or why Edith’s eloquent
+      smile and words had pleased her. She got as far, however, as to think
+      scornfully how Helen and Dorothy would welcome and meet a flirtation with
+      this cowboy and then go back home and forget him as utterly as if he had
+      never existed. She wondered, too, with a curious twist of feeling that was
+      almost eagerness, how the cowboy would meet their advances. Obviously the
+      situation was unfair to him; and if by some strange accident he escaped
+      unscathed by Dorothy’s beautiful eyes he would never be able to withstand
+      Helen’s subtle and fascinating and imperious personality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They returned to camp in the cool of the evening and made merry round a
+      blazing camp-fire. But Madeline’s guests soon succumbed to the persistent
+      and irresistible desire to sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Madeline went to bed with Florence under the pine-tree. Russ lay upon
+      one side and Tartar upon the other. The cool night breeze swept over her,
+      fanning her face, waving her hair. It was not strong enough to make any
+      sound through the branches, but it stirred a faint, silken rustle in the
+      long grass. The coyotes began their weird bark and howl. Russ raised his
+      head to growl at their impudence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline faced upward, and it seemed to her that under those wonderful
+      white stars she would never be able to go to sleep. They blinked down
+      through the black-barred, delicate crisscross of pine foliage, and they
+      looked so big and so close. Then she gazed away to open space, where an
+      expanse of sky glittered with stars, and the longer she gazed the larger
+      they grew and the more she saw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was her belief that she had come to love all the physical things from
+      which sensations of beauty and mystery and strength poured into her
+      responsive mind; but best of all she loved these Western stars, for they
+      were to have something to do with her life, were somehow to influence her
+      destiny.
+    </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      For a few days the prevailing features of camp life for Madeline’s guests
+      were sleep and rest. Dorothy Coombs slept through twenty-four hours, and
+      then was so difficult to awaken that for a while her friends were alarmed.
+      Helen almost fell asleep while eating and talking. The men were more
+      visibly affected by the mountain air than the women. Castleton, however,
+      would not succumb to the strange drowsiness while he had a chance to prowl
+      around with a gun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This languorous spell disappeared presently, and then the days were full
+      of life and action. Mrs. Beck and Bobby and Boyd, however, did not go in
+      for anything very strenuous. Edith Wayne, too, preferred to walk through
+      the groves or sit upon the grassy promontory. It was Helen and Dorothy who
+      wanted to explore the crags and canyons, and when they could not get the
+      others to accompany them they went alone, giving the cowboy guides many a
+      long climb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Necessarily, of course, Madeline and her guests were now thrown much in
+      company with the cowboys. And the party grew to be like one big family.
+      Her friends not only adapted themselves admirably to the situation, but
+      came to revel in it. As for Madeline, she saw that outside of a certain
+      proclivity of the cowboys to be gallant and on dress-parade and alive to
+      possibilities of fun and excitement, they were not greatly different from
+      what they were at all times. If there were a leveling process here it was
+      made by her friends coming down to meet the Westerners. Besides, any class
+      of people would tend to grow natural in such circumstances and
+      environment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline found the situation one of keen and double interest for her. If
+      before she had cared to study her cowboys, particularly Stewart, now, with
+      the contrasts afforded by her guests, she felt by turns she was amused and
+      mystified and perplexed and saddened, and then again subtly pleased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty, once he had overcome his shyness, became a source of delight to
+      Madeline, and, for that matter, to everybody. Monty had suddenly
+      discovered that he was a success among the ladies. Either he was exalted
+      to heroic heights by this knowledge or he made it appear so. Dorothy had
+      been his undoing, and in justice to her Madeline believed her innocent.
+      Dorothy thought Monty hideous to look at, and, accordingly, if he had been
+      a hero a hundred times and had saved a hundred poor little babies’ lives,
+      he could not have interested her. Monty followed her around, reminding
+      her, she told Madeline, of a little adoring dog one moment and the next of
+      a huge, devouring gorilla.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels and Nick stalked at Helen’s heels like grenadiers on duty, and if she
+      as much as dropped her glove they almost came to blows to see who should
+      pick it up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a way Castleton was the best feature of the camping party. He was such
+      an absurd-looking little man, and his abilities were at such tremendous
+      odds with what might have been expected of him from his looks. He could
+      ride, tramp, climb, shoot. He liked to help around the camp, and the
+      cowboys could not keep him from it. He had an insatiable desire to do
+      things that were new to him. The cowboys played innumerable tricks upon
+      him, not one of which he ever discovered. He was serious, slow in speech
+      and action, and absolutely imperturbable. If imperturbability could ever
+      be good humor, then he was always good-humored. Presently the cowboys
+      began to understand him, and then to like him. When they liked a man it
+      meant something. Madeline had been sorry more than once to see how little
+      the cowboys chose to speak to Boyd Harvey. With Castleton, however, they
+      actually became friends. They did not know it, and certainly such a thing
+      never occurred to him; all the same, it was a fact. And it grew solely out
+      of the truth that the Englishman was manly in the only way cowboys could
+      have interpreted manliness. When, after innumerable attempts, he succeeded
+      in throwing the diamond-hitch on a pack-horse the cowboys began to respect
+      him. Castleton needed only one more accomplishment to claim their hearts,
+      and he kept trying that—to ride a bucking bronco. One of the cowboys
+      had a bronco that they called Devil. Every day for a week Devil threw the
+      Englishman all over the park, ruined his clothes, bruised him, and finally
+      kicked him. Then the cowboys solicitously tried to make Castleton give up;
+      and this was remarkable enough, for the spectacle of an English lord on a
+      bucking bronco was one that any Westerner would have ridden a thousand
+      miles to see. Whenever Devil threw Castleton the cowboys went into spasms.
+      But Castleton did not know the meaning of the word fail, and there came a
+      day when Devil could not throw him. Then it was a singular sight to see
+      the men line up to shake hands with the cool Englishman. Even Stewart, who
+      had watched from the background, came forward with a warm and pleasant
+      smile on his dark face. When Castleton went to his tent there was much
+      characteristic cowboy talk, and this time vastly different from the former
+      persiflage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “By Gawd!” ejaculated Monty Price, who seemed to be the most amazed and
+      elated of them all. “Thet’s the fust Englishman I ever seen! He’s orful
+      deceivin’ to look at, but I know now why England rules the wurrld. Jest
+      take a peek at thet bronco. His spirit is broke. Rid by a leetle English
+      dook no bigger ’n a grasshopper! Fellers, if it hain’t dawned on you yit,
+      let Monty Price give you a hunch. There’s no flies on Castleton. An’ I’ll
+      bet a million steers to a rawhide rope thet next he’ll be throwin’ a gun
+      as good as Nels.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a distinct pleasure for Madeline to realize that she liked
+      Castleton all the better for the traits brought out so forcibly by his
+      association with the cowboys. On the other hand, she liked the cowboys
+      better for something in them that contact with Easterners brought out.
+      This was especially true in Stewart’s case. She had been wholly wrong when
+      she had imagined he would fall an easy victim to Dorothy’s eyes and
+      Helen’s lures. He was kind, helpful, courteous, and watchful. But he had
+      no sentiment. He did not see Dorothy’s charms or feel Helen’s fascination.
+      And their efforts to captivate him were now so obvious that Mrs. Beck
+      taunted them, and Edith smiled knowingly, and Bobby and Boyd made playful
+      remarks. All of which cut Helen’s pride and hurt Dorothy’s vanity. They
+      essayed open conquest of Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So it came about that Madeline unconsciously admitted the cowboy to a
+      place in her mind never occupied by any other. The instant it occurred to
+      her why he was proof against the wiles of the other women she drove that
+      amazing and strangely disturbing thought from her. Nevertheless, as she
+      was human, she could not help thinking and being pleased and enjoying a
+      little the discomfiture of the two coquettes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Moreover, from this thought of Stewart, and the watchfulness growing out
+      of it she discovered more about him. He was not happy; he often paced up
+      and down the grove at night; he absented himself from camp sometimes
+      during the afternoon when Nels and Nick and Monty were there; he was
+      always watching the trails, as if he expected to see some one come riding
+      up. He alone of the cowboys did not indulge in the fun and talk around the
+      camp-fire. He remained preoccupied and sad, and was always looking away
+      into distance. Madeline had a strange sense of his guardianship over her;
+      and, remembering Don Carlos, she imagined he worried a good deal over his
+      charge, and, indeed, over the safety of all the party.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But if he did worry about possible visits from wandering guerrillas, why
+      did he absent himself from camp? Suddenly into Madeline’s inquisitive mind
+      flashed a remembrance of the dark-eyed Mexican girl, Bonita, who had never
+      been heard of since that night she rode Stewart’s big horse out of El
+      Cajon. The remembrance of her brought an idea. Perhaps Stewart had a
+      rendezvous in the mountains, and these lonely trips of his were to meet
+      Bonita. With the idea hot blood flamed into Madeline’s cheek. Then she was
+      amazed at her own feelings—amazed because her swiftest succeeding
+      thought was to deny the idea—amazed that its conception had fired
+      her cheek with shame. Then her old self, the one aloof from this
+      red-blooded new self, gained control over her emotions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Madeline found that new-born self a creature of strange power to
+      return and govern at any moment. She found it fighting loyally for what
+      intelligence and wisdom told her was only her romantic conception of a
+      cowboy. She reasoned: If Stewart were the kind of man her feminine
+      skepticism wanted to make him, he would not have been so blind to the
+      coquettish advances of Helen and Dorothy. He had once been—she did
+      not want to recall what he had once been. But he had been uplifted.
+      Madeline Hammond declared that. She was swayed by a strong, beating pride,
+      and her instinctive woman’s faith told her that he could not stoop to such
+      dishonor. She reproached herself for having momentarily thought of it.
+    </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      One afternoon a huge storm-cloud swooped out of the sky and enveloped the
+      crags. It obscured the westering sun and laid a mantle of darkness over
+      the park. Madeline was uneasy because several of her party, including
+      Helen and Dorothy, had ridden off with the cowboys that afternoon and had
+      not returned. Florence assured her that even if they did not get back
+      before the storm broke there was no reason for apprehension. Nevertheless,
+      Madeline sent for Stewart and asked him to go or send some one in search
+      of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps half an hour later Madeline heard the welcome pattering of hoofs
+      on the trail. The big tent was brightly lighted by several lanterns. Edith
+      and Florence were with her. It was so black outside that Madeline could
+      not see a rod before her face. The wind was moaning in the trees, and big
+      drops of rain were pelting upon the canvas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently, just outside the door, the horses halted, and there was a sharp
+      bustle of sound, such as would naturally result from a hurried dismounting
+      and confusion in the dark. Mrs. Beck came running into the tent out of
+      breath and radiant because they had beaten the storm. Helen entered next,
+      and a little later came Dorothy, but long enough to make her entrance more
+      noticeable. The instant Madeline saw Dorothy’s blazing eyes she knew
+      something unusual had happened. Whatever it was might have escaped comment
+      had not Helen caught sight of Dorothy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Heavens, Dot, but you’re handsome occasionally!” remarked Helen. “When
+      you get some life in your face and eyes!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy turned her face away from the others, and perhaps it was only
+      accident that she looked into a mirror hanging on the tent wall. Swiftly
+      she put her hand up to feel a wide red welt on her cheek. Dorothy had been
+      assiduously careful of her soft, white skin, and here was an ugly mark
+      marring its beauty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Look at that!” she cried, in distress. “My complexion’s ruined!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “How did you get such a splotch?” inquired Helen, going closer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’ve been kissed!” exclaimed Dorothy, dramatically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What?” queried Helen, more curiously, while the others laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’ve been kissed—hugged and kissed by one of those shameless
+      cowboys! It was so pitch-dark outside I couldn’t see a thing. And so noisy
+      I couldn’t hear. But somebody was trying to help me off my horse. My foot
+      caught in the stirrup, and away I went—right into somebody’s arms.
+      Then he did it, the wretch! He hugged and kissed me in a most awful
+      bearish manner. I couldn’t budge a finger. I’m simply boiling with rage!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the outburst of mirth subsided Dorothy turned her big, dilated eyes
+      upon Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Do these cowboys really take advantage of a girl when she’s helpless and
+      in the dark?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Of course they do,” replied Florence, with her frank smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Dot, what in the world could you expect?” asked Helen. “Haven’t you been
+      dying to be kissed?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, you acted like it, then. I never before saw you in a rage over
+      being kissed.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I—I wouldn’t care so much if the brute hadn’t scoured the skin off
+      my face. He had whiskers as sharp and stiff as sandpaper. And when I
+      jerked away he rubbed my cheek with them.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This revelation as to the cause of her outraged dignity almost prostrated
+      her friends with glee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Dot, I agree with you; it’s one thing to be kissed, and quite another to
+      have your beauty spoiled,” replied Helen, presently. “Who was this
+      particular savage?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I don’t know!” burst out Dorothy. “If I did I’d—I’d—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eyes expressed the direful punishment she could not speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Honestly now, Dot, haven’t you the least idea who did it?” questioned
+      Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I hope—I think it was Stewart,” replied Dorothy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ah! Dot, your hope is father to the thought. My dear, I’m sorry to riddle
+      your little romance. Stewart did not—could not have been the
+      offender or hero.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “How do you know he couldn’t?” demanded Dorothy, flushing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Because he was clean-shaven to-day at noon, before we rode out. I
+      remember perfectly how nice and smooth and brown his face looked.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, do you? Well, if your memory for faces is so good, maybe you can tell
+      me which one of these cowboys wasn’t clean-shaven.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Merely a matter of elimination,” replied Helen, merrily. “It was not
+      Nick; it was not Nels; it was not Frankie. There was only one other cowboy
+      with us, and he had a short, stubby growth of black beard, much like that
+      cactus we passed on the trail.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, I was afraid of it,” moaned Dorothy. “I knew he was going to do it.
+      That horrible little smiling demon, Monty Price!”
+     </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      A favorite lounging-spot of Madeline’s was a shaded niche under the lee of
+      crags facing the east. Here the outlook was entirely different from that
+      on the western side. It was not red and white and glaring, nor so
+      changeable that it taxed attention. This eastern view was one of the
+      mountains and valleys, where, to be sure, there were arid patches; but the
+      restful green of pine and fir was there, and the cool gray of crags. Bold
+      and rugged indeed were these mountain features, yet they were
+      companionably close, not immeasurably distant and unattainable like the
+      desert. Here in the shade of afternoon Madeline and Edith would often
+      lounge under a low-branched tree. Seldom they talked much, for it was
+      afternoon and dreamy with the strange spell of this mountain fastness.
+      There was smoky haze in the valleys, a fleecy cloud resting over the
+      peaks, a sailing eagle in the blue sky, silence that was the unbroken
+      silence of the wild heights, and a soft wind laden with incense of pine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One afternoon, however, Edith appeared prone to talk seriously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty, I must go home soon. I cannot stay out here forever. Are you
+      going back with me?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, maybe,” replied Madeline, thoughtfully. “I have considered it. I
+      shall have to visit home some time. But this summer mother and father are
+      going to Europe.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “See here, Majesty Hammond, do you intend to spend the rest of your life
+      in this wilderness?” asked Edith, bluntly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, it is glorious! Don’t misunderstand me, dear,” went on Edith,
+      earnestly, as she laid her hand on Madeline’s. “This trip has been a
+      revelation to me. I did not tell you, Majesty, that I was ill when I
+      arrived. Now I’m well. So well! Look at Helen, too. Why, she was a ghost
+      when we got here. Now she is brown and strong and beautiful. If it were
+      for nothing else than this wonderful gift of health I would love the West.
+      But I have come to love it for other things—even spiritual things.
+      Majesty, I have been studying you. I see and feel what this life has made
+      of you. When I came I wondered at your strength, your virility, your
+      serenity, your happiness. And I was stunned. I wondered at the causes of
+      your change. Now I know. You were sick of idleness, sick of uselessness,
+      if not of society—sick of the horrible noises and smells and
+      contacts one can no longer escape in the cities. I am sick of all that,
+      too, and I could tell you many women of our kind who suffer in a like
+      manner. You have done what many of us want to do, but have not the
+      courage. You have left it. I am not blind to the splendid difference you
+      have made in your life. I think I would have discovered, even if your
+      brother had not told me, what good you have done to the Mexicans and
+      cattlemen of your range. Then you have work to do. That is much the secret
+      of your happiness, is it not? Tell me. Tell me something of what it means
+      to you?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Work, of course, has much to do with any one’s happiness,” replied
+      Madeline. “No one can be happy who has no work. As regards myself—for
+      the rest I can hardly tell you. I have never tried to put it in words.
+      Frankly, I believe, if I had not had money that I could not have found
+      such contentment here. That is not in any sense a judgment against the
+      West. But if I had been poor I could not have bought and maintained my
+      ranch. Stillwell tells me there are many larger ranches than mine, but
+      none just like it. Then I am almost paying my expenses out of my business.
+      Think of that! My income, instead of being wasted, is mostly saved. I
+      think—I hope I am useful. I have been of some little good to the
+      Mexicans—eased the hardships of a few cowboys. For the rest, I think
+      my life is a kind of dream. Of course my ranch and range are real, my
+      cowboys are typical. If I were to tell you how I feel about them it would
+      simply be a story of how Madeline Hammond sees the West. They are true to
+      the West. It is I who am strange, and what I feel for them may be strange,
+      too. Edith, hold to your own impressions.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “But, Majesty, my impressions have changed. At first I did not like the
+      wind, the dust, the sun, the endless open stretches. But now I do like
+      them. Where once I saw only terrible wastes of barren ground now I see
+      beauty and something noble. Then, at first, your cowboys struck me as
+      dirty, rough, loud, crude, savage—all that was primitive. I did not
+      want them near me. I imagined them callous, hard men, their only joy a
+      carouse with their kind. But I was wrong. I have changed. The dirt was
+      only dust, and this desert dust is clean. They are still rough, loud,
+      crude, and savage in my eyes, but with a difference. They are natural men.
+      They are little children. Monty Price is one of nature’s noblemen. The
+      hard thing is to discover it. All his hideous person, all his actions and
+      speech, are masks of his real nature. Nels is a joy, a simple, sweet,
+      kindly, quiet man whom some woman should have loved. What would love have
+      meant to him! He told me that no woman ever loved him except his mother,
+      and he lost her when he was ten. Every man ought to be loved—especially
+      such a man as Nels. Somehow his gun record does not impress me. I never
+      could believe he killed a man. Then take your foreman, Stewart. He is a
+      cowboy, his work and life the same as the others. But he has education and
+      most of the graces we are in the habit of saying make a gentleman. Stewart
+      is a strange fellow, just like this strange country. He’s a man, Majesty,
+      and I admire him. So, you see, my impressions are developing with my stay
+      out here.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Edith, I am so glad you told me that,” replied Madeline, warmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I like the country, and I like the men,” went on Edith. “One reason I
+      want to go home soon is because I am discontented enough at home now,
+      without falling in love with the West. For, of course, Majesty, I would. I
+      could not live out here. And that brings me to my point. Admitting all the
+      beauty and charm and wholesomeness and good of this wonderful country,
+      still it is no place for you, Madeline Hammond. You have your position,
+      your wealth, your name, your family. You must marry. You must have
+      children. You must not give up all that for a quixotic life in a
+      wilderness.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am convinced, Edith, that I shall live here all the rest of my life.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, Majesty! I hate to preach this way. But I promised your mother I
+      would talk to you. And the truth is I hate—I hate what I’m saying. I
+      envy you your courage and wisdom. I know you have refused to marry Boyd
+      Harvey. I could see that in his face. I believe you will refuse Castleton.
+      Whom will you marry? What chance is there for a woman of your position to
+      marry out here? What in the world will become of you?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Quien sabe?” replied Madeline, with a smile that was almost sad.
+    </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      Not so many hours after this conversation with Edith, Madeline sat with
+      Boyd Harvey upon the grassy promontory overlooking the west, and she
+      listened once again to his suave courtship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly she turned to him and said, “Boyd, if I married you would you be
+      willing—glad to spend the rest of your life here in the West?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty!” he exclaimed. There was amaze in the voice usually so even and
+      well modulated—amaze in the handsome face usually so indifferent.
+      Her question had startled him. She saw him look down the iron-gray cliffs,
+      over the barren slopes and cedared ridges, beyond the cactus-covered
+      foothills to the grim and ghastly desert. Just then, with its red veils of
+      sunlit dust-clouds, its illimitable waste of ruined and upheaved earth, it
+      was a sinister spectacle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No,” he replied, with a tinge of shame in his cheek. Madeline said no
+      more, nor did he speak. She was spared the pain of refusing him, and she
+      imagined he would never ask her again. There was both relief and regret in
+      the conviction. Humiliated lovers seldom made good friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was impossible not to like Boyd Harvey. The thought of that, and why
+      she could not marry him, concentrated her never-satisfied mind upon the
+      man. She looked at him, and she thought of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was handsome, young, rich, well born, pleasant, cultivated—he was
+      all that made a gentleman of his class. If he had any vices she had not
+      heard of them. She knew he had no thirst for drink or craze for gambling.
+      He was considered a very desirable and eligible young man. Madeline
+      admitted all this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she thought of things that were perhaps exclusively her own strange
+      ideas. Boyd Harvey’s white skin did not tan even in this southwestern sun
+      and wind. His hands were whiter than her own, and as soft. They were
+      really beautiful, and she remembered what care he took of them. They were
+      a proof that he never worked. His frame was tall, graceful, elegant. It
+      did not bear evidence of ruggedness. He had never indulged in a sport more
+      strenuous than yachting. He hated effort and activity. He rode horseback
+      very little, disliked any but moderate motoring, spent much time in
+      Newport and Europe, never walked when he could help it, and had no
+      ambition unless it were to pass the days pleasantly. If he ever had any
+      sons they would be like him, only a generation more toward the inevitable
+      extinction of his race.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline returned to camp in just the mood to make a sharp, deciding
+      contrast. It happened—fatefully, perhaps—that the first man
+      she saw was Stewart. He had just ridden into camp, and as she came up he
+      explained that he had gone down to the ranch for the important mail about
+      which she had expressed anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Down and back in one day!” she exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” he replied. “It wasn’t so bad.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “But why did you not send one of the boys, and let him make the regular
+      two-day trip?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You were worried about your mail,” he answered, briefly, as he delivered
+      it. Then he bent to examine the fetlocks of his weary horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was midsummer now, Madeline reflected and exceedingly hot and dusty on
+      the lower trail. Stewart had ridden down the mountain and back again in
+      twelve hours. Probably no horse in the outfit, except his big black or
+      Majesty, could have stood that trip. And his horse showed the effects of a
+      grueling day. He was caked with dust and lame and weary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart looked as if he had spared the horse his weight on many a mile of
+      that rough ascent. His boots were evidence of it. His heavy flannel shirt,
+      wet through with perspiration, adhered closely to his shoulders and arms,
+      so that every ripple of muscle plainly showed. His face was black, except
+      round the temples and forehead, where it was bright red. Drops of sweat,
+      running off his blackened hands dripped to the ground. He got up from
+      examining the lame foot, and then threw off the saddle. The black horse
+      snorted and lunged for the watering-pool. Stewart let him drink a little,
+      then with iron arms dragged him away. In this action the man’s lithe,
+      powerful form impressed Madeline with a wonderful sense of muscular force.
+      His brawny wrist was bare; his big, strong hand, first clutching the
+      horse’s mane, then patting his neck, had a bruised knuckle, and one finger
+      was bound up. That hand expressed as much gentleness and thoughtfulness
+      for the horse as it had strength to drag him back from too much drinking
+      at a dangerous moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart was a combination of fire, strength, and action. These attributes
+      seemed to cling about him. There was something vital and compelling in his
+      presence. Worn and spent and drawn as he was from the long ride, he
+      thrilled Madeline with his potential youth and unused vitality and promise
+      of things to be, red-blooded deeds, both of flesh and spirit. In him she
+      saw the strength of his forefathers unimpaired. The life in him was
+      marvelously significant. The dust, the dirt, the sweat, the soiled
+      clothes, the bruised and bandaged hand, the brawn and bone—these had
+      not been despised by the knights of ancient days, nor by modern women
+      whose eyes shed soft light upon coarse and bloody toilers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline Hammond compared the man of the East with the man of the West;
+      and that comparison was the last parting regret for her old standards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XVII. The Lost Mine of the Padres
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      In the cool, starry evenings the campers sat around a blazing fire and
+      told and listened to stories thrillingly fitted to the dark crags and the
+      wild solitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty Price had come to shine brilliantly as a storyteller. He was an
+      atrocious liar, but this fact would not have been evident to his
+      enthralled listeners if his cowboy comrades, in base jealousy, had not
+      betrayed him. The truth about his remarkable fabrications, however, had
+      not become known to Castleton, solely because of the Englishman’s
+      obtuseness. And there was another thing much stranger than this and quite
+      as amusing. Dorothy Coombs knew Monty was a liar; but she was so
+      fascinated by the glittering, basilisk eyes he riveted upon her, so taken
+      in by his horrible tales of blood, that despite her knowledge she could
+      not help believing them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Manifestly Monty was very proud of his suddenly acquired gift. Formerly he
+      had hardly been known to open his lips in the presence of strangers. Monty
+      had developed more than one singular and hitherto unknown trait since his
+      supremacy at golf had revealed his possibilities. He was as sober and vain
+      and pompous about his capacity for lying as about anything else. Some of
+      the cowboys were jealous of him because he held the attention and,
+      apparently, the admiration of the ladies; and Nels was jealous, not
+      because Monty made himself out to be a wonderful gun-man, but because
+      Monty could tell a story. Nels really had been the hero of a hundred
+      fights; he had never been known to talk about them; but Dorothy’s eyes and
+      Helen’s smile had somehow upset his modesty. Whenever Monty would begin to
+      talk Nels would growl and knock his pipe on a log, and make it appear he
+      could not stay and listen, though he never really left the charmed circle
+      of the camp-fire. Wild horses could not have dragged him away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One evening at twilight, as Madeline was leaving her tent, she encountered
+      Monty. Evidently, he had way-laid her. With the most mysterious of signs
+      and whispers he led her a little aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, I’m makin’ bold to ask a favor of you,” he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline smiled her willingness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “To-night, when they’ve all shot off their chins an’ it’s quiet-like, I
+      want you to ask me, jest this way, ‘Monty, seein’ as you’ve hed more
+      adventures than all them cow-punchers put together, tell us about the most
+      turrible time you ever hed.’ Will you ask me, Miss Hammond, jest kinda
+      sincere like?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Certainly I will, Monty,” she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His dark, seared face had no more warmth than a piece of cold, volcanic
+      rock, which it resembled. Madeline appreciated how monstrous Dorothy found
+      this burned and distorted visage, how deformed the little man looked to a
+      woman of refined sensibilities. It was difficult for Madeline to look into
+      his face. But she saw behind the blackened mask. And now she saw in
+      Monty’s deep eyes a spirit of pure fun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So, true to her word, Madeline remembered at an opportune moment, when
+      conversation had hushed and only the long, dismal wail of coyotes broke
+      the silence, to turn toward the little cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Monty,” she said, and paused for effect—“Monty, seeing that you
+      have had more adventures than all the cowboys together, tell us about the
+      most terrible time you ever had.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty appeared startled at the question that fastened all eyes upon him.
+      He waved a deprecatory hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aw, Miss Hammond, thankin’ you all modest-like fer the compliment, I’ll
+      hev to refuse,” replied Monty, laboring in distress. “It’s too harrowin’
+      fer tender-hearted gurls to listen to.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Go on?” cried everybody except the cowboys. Nels began to nod his head as
+      if he, as well as Monty, understood human nature. Dorothy hugged her knees
+      with a kind of shudder. Monty had fastened the hypnotic eyes upon her.
+      Castleton ceased smoking, adjusted his eyeglass, and prepared to listen in
+      great earnestness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty changed his seat to one where the light from the blazing logs fell
+      upon his face; and he appeared plunged into melancholy and profound
+      thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Now I tax myself, I can’t jest decide which was the orfulest time I ever
+      hed,” he said, reflectively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Nels blew forth an immense cloud of smoke, as if he desired to hide
+      himself from sight. Monty pondered, and then when the smoke rolled away he
+      turned to Nels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “See hyar, old pard, me an’ you seen somethin’ of each other in the
+      Panhandle, more ’n thirty years ago—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Which we didn’t,” interrupted Nels, bluntly. “Shore you can’t make me out
+      an ole man.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mebbe it wasn’t so darn long. Anyhow, Nels, you recollect them three
+      hoss-thieves I hung all on one cottonwood-tree, an’ likewise thet
+      boo-tiful blond gurl I rescooed from a band of cutthroats who murdered her
+      paw, ole Bill Warren, the buffalo-hunter? Now, which of them two scraps
+      was the turriblest, in your idee?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Monty, my memory’s shore bad,” replied the unimpeachable Nels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Tell us about the beautiful blonde,” cried at least three of the ladies.
+      Dorothy, who had suffered from nightmare because of a former story of
+      hanging men on trees, had voicelessly appealed to Monty to spare her more
+      of that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “All right, we’ll hev the blond gurl,” said Monty, settling back, “though
+      I ain’t thinkin’ her story is most turrible of the two, an’ it’ll rake
+      over tender affections long slumberin’ in my breast.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he paused there came a sharp, rapping sound. This appeared to be Nels
+      knocking the ashes out of his pipe on a stump—a true indication of
+      the passing of content from that jealous cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It was down in the Panhandle, ’way over in the west end of thet Comanche
+      huntin’-ground, an’ all the redskins an’ outlaws in thet country were
+      hidin’ in the river-bottoms, an’ chasin’ some of the last buffalo herds
+      thet hed wintered in there. I was a young buck them days, an’ purty much
+      of a desperado, I’m thinkin’. Though of all the seventeen notches on my
+      gun—an’ each notch meant a man killed face to face—there was
+      only one thet I was ashamed of. Thet one was fer an express messenger who
+      I hit on the head most unprofessional like, jest because he wouldn’t hand
+      over a leetle package. I hed the kind of a reputashun thet made all the
+      fellers in saloons smile an’ buy drinks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, I dropped into a place named Taylor’s Bend, an’ was peaceful
+      standin’ to the bar when three cow-punchers come in, an’, me bein’ with my
+      back turned, they didn’t recognize me an’ got playful. I didn’t stop
+      drinkin’, an’ I didn’t turn square round; but when I stopped shootin’
+      under my arm the saloon-keeper hed to go over to the sawmill an’ fetch a
+      heap of sawdust to cover up what was left of them three cow-punchers,
+      after they was hauled out. You see, I was rough them days, an’ would shoot
+      ears off an’ noses off an’ hands off; when in later days I’d jest kill a
+      man quick, same as Wild Bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “News drifts into town thet night thet a gang of cut-throats hed murdered
+      ole Bill Warren an’ carried off his gurl. I gathers up a few good gun-men,
+      an’ we rid out an’ down the river-bottom, to an ole log cabin, where the
+      outlaws hed a rondevoo. We rid up boldlike, an’ made a hell of a racket.
+      Then the gang began to throw lead from the cabin, an’ we all hunted cover.
+      Fightin’ went on all night. In the mornin’ all my outfit was killed but
+      two, an’ they was shot up bad. We fought all day without eatin’ or
+      drinkin’, except some whisky I hed, an’ at night I was on the job by my
+      lonesome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bein’ bunged up some myself, I laid off an’ went down to the river to
+      wash the blood off, tie up my wounds, an’ drink a leetle. While I was down
+      there along comes one of the cutthroats with a bucket. Instead of gettin’
+      water he got lead, an’ as he was about to croak he tells me a whole bunch
+      of outlaws was headin’ in there, doo to-morrer. An’ if I wanted to rescoo
+      the gurl I hed to be hurryin’. There was five fellers left in the cabin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I went back to the thicket where I hed left my hoss, an’ loaded up with
+      two more guns an’ another belt, an’ busted a fresh box of shells. If I
+      recollect proper, I got some cigarettes, too. Well, I mozied back to the
+      cabin. It was a boo-tiful moonshiny night, an’ I wondered if ole Bill’s
+      gun was as purty as I’d heerd. The grass growed long round the cabin, an’
+      I crawled up to the door without startin’ anythin’. Then I figgered. There
+      was only one door in thet cabin, an’ it was black dark inside. I jest
+      grabbed open the door an’ slipped in quick. It worked all right. They
+      heerd me, but hedn’t been quick enough to ketch me in the light of the
+      door. Of course there was some shots, but I ducked too quick, an’ changed
+      my position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ladies an’ gentlemen, thet there was some dool by night. An’ I wasn’t
+      often in the place where they shot. I was most wonderful patient, an’ jest
+      waited until one of them darned ruffians would get so nervous he’d hev to
+      hunt me up. When mornin’ come there they was all piled up on the floor,
+      all shot to pieces. I found the gurl. Purty! Say, she was boo-tiful. We
+      went down to the river, where she begun to bathe my wounds. I’d collected
+      a dozen more or so, an’ the sight of tears in her lovely eyes, an’ my
+      blood a-stainin’ of her little hands, jest nat’rally wakened a trembly
+      spell in my heart. I seen she was took the same way, an’ thet settled it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “We was comin’ up from the river, an’ I hed jest straddled my hoss, with
+      the gurl behind, when we run right into thet cutthroat gang thet was doo
+      about then. Bein’ some handicapped, I couldn’t drop more ’n one gun-round
+      of them, an’ then I hed to slope. The whole gang follered me, an’ some
+      miles out chased me over a ridge right into a big herd of buffalo. Before
+      I knowed what was what thet herd broke into a stampede, with me in the
+      middle. Purty soon the buffalo closed in tight. I knowed I was in some
+      peril then. But the gurl trusted me somethin’ pitiful. I seen again thet
+      she hed fell in love with me. I could tell from the way she hugged me an’
+      yelled. Before long I was some put to it to keep my hoss on his feet. Far
+      as I could see was dusty, black, bobbin’, shaggy humps. A huge cloud of
+      dust went along over our heads. The roar of tramplin’ hoofs was turrible.
+      My hoss weakened, went down, an’ was carried along a leetle while I
+      slipped off with the gurl on to the backs of the buffalo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ladies, I ain’t denyin’ that then Monty Price was some scairt. Fust time
+      in my life! But the trustin’ face of thet boo-tiful gurl, as she lay in my
+      arms an’ hugged me an’ yelled, made my spirit leap like a shootin’ star. I
+      just began to jump from buffalo to buffalo. I must hev jumped a mile of
+      them bobbin’ backs before I come to open places. An’ here’s where I
+      performed the greatest stunts of my life. I hed on my big spurs, an’ I
+      jest sit down an’ rid an’ spurred till thet pertickler buffalo I was on
+      got near another, an’ then I’d flop over. Thusly I got to the edge of the
+      herd, tumbled off’n the last one, an’ rescooed the gurl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, as my memory takes me back, thet was a most affectin’ walk home to
+      the little town where she lived. But she wasn’t troo to me, an’ married
+      another feller. I was too much a sport to kill him. But thet low-down
+      trick rankled in my breast. Gurls is strange. I’ve never stopped wonderin’
+      how any gurl who has been hugged an’ kissed by one man could marry
+      another. But matoor experience teaches me thet sich is the case.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboys roared; Helen and Mrs. Beck and Edith laughed till they cried;
+      Madeline found repression absolutely impossible; Dorothy sat hugging her
+      knees, her horror at the story no greater than at Monty’s unmistakable
+      reference to her and to the fickleness of women; and Castleton for the
+      first time appeared to be moved out of his imperturbability, though not in
+      any sense by humor. Indeed, when he came to notice it, he was dumfounded
+      by the mirth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “By Jove! you Americans are an extraordinary people,” he said. “I don’t
+      see anything blooming funny in Mr. Price’s story of his adventure. By
+      Jove! that was a bally warm occasion. Mr. Price, when you speak of being
+      frightened for the only time in your life, I appreciate what you mean. I
+      have experienced that. I was frightened once.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Dook, I wouldn’t hev thought it of you,” replied Monty. “I’m sure
+      tolerable curious to hear about it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline and her friends dared not break the spell, for fear that the
+      Englishman might hold to his usual modest reticence. He had explored in
+      Brazil, seen service in the Boer War, hunted in India and Africa—matters
+      of experience of which he never spoke. Upon this occasion, however,
+      evidently taking Monty’s recital word for word as literal truth, and
+      excited by it into a Homeric mood, he might tell a story. The cowboys
+      almost fell upon their knees in their importunity. There was a suppressed
+      eagerness in their solicitations, a hint of something that meant more than
+      desire, great as it was, to hear a story told by an English lord. Madeline
+      divined instantly that the cowboys had suddenly fancied that Castleton was
+      not the dense and easily fooled person they had made such game of; that he
+      had played his part well; that he was having fun at their expense; that he
+      meant to tell a story, a lie which would simply dwarf Monty’s. Nels’s
+      keen, bright expectation suggested how he would welcome the joke turned
+      upon Monty. The slow closing of Monty’s cavernous smile, the gradual
+      sinking of his proud bearing, the doubt with which he began to regard
+      Castleton—these were proofs of his fears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I have faced charging tigers and elephants in India, and charging rhinos
+      and lions in Africa,” began Castleton, his quick and fluent speech so
+      different from the drawl of his ordinary conversation; “but I never was
+      frightened but once. It will not do to hunt those wild beasts if you are
+      easily balled up. This adventure I have in mind happened in British East
+      Africa, in Uganda. I was out with safari, and we were in a native district
+      much infested by man-eating lions. Perhaps I may as well state that
+      man-eaters are very different from ordinary lions. They are always matured
+      beasts, and sometimes—indeed, mostly—are old. They become
+      man-eaters most likely by accident or necessity. When old they find it
+      more difficult to make a kill, being slower, probably, and with poorer
+      teeth. Driven by hunger, they stalk and kill a native, and, once having
+      tasted human blood, they want no other. They become absolutely fearless
+      and terrible in their attacks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “The natives of this village near where we camped were in a terrorized
+      state owing to depredations of two or more man-eaters. The night of our
+      arrival a lion leaped a stockade fence, seized a native from among others
+      sitting round a fire, and leaped out again, carrying the screaming fellow
+      away into the darkness. I determined to kill these lions, and made a
+      permanent camp in the village for that purpose. By day I sent beaters into
+      the brush and rocks of the river-valley, and by night I watched. Every
+      night the lions visited us, but I did not see one. I discovered that when
+      they roared around the camp they were not so liable to attack as when they
+      were silent. It was indeed remarkable how silently they could stalk a man.
+      They could creep through a thicket so dense you would not believe a rabbit
+      could get through, and do it without the slightest sound. Then, when ready
+      to charge, they did so with terrible onslaught and roar. They leaped right
+      into a circle of fires, tore down huts, even dragged natives from the low
+      trees. There was no way to tell at which point they would make an attack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “After ten days or more of this I was worn out by loss of sleep. And one
+      night, when tired out with watching, I fell asleep. My gun-bearer was
+      alone in the tent with me. A terrible roar awakened me, then an unearthly
+      scream pierced right into my ears. I always slept with my rifle in my
+      hands, and, grasping it, I tried to rise. But I could not for the reason
+      that a lion was standing over me. Then I lay still. The screams of my
+      gun-bearer told me that the lion had him. I was fond of this fellow and
+      wanted to save him. I thought it best, however, not to move while the lion
+      stood over me. Suddenly he stepped, and I felt poor Luki’s feet dragging
+      across me. He screamed, ‘Save me, master!’ And instinctively I grasped at
+      him and caught his foot. The lion walked out of the tent dragging me as I
+      held to Luki’s foot. The night was bright moonlight. I could see the lion
+      distinctly. He was a huge, black-maned brute, and he held Luki by the
+      shoulder. The poor lad kept screaming frightfully. The man-eater must have
+      dragged me forty yards before he became aware of a double incumbrance to
+      his progress. Then he halted and turned. By Jove! he made a devilish
+      fierce object with his shaggy, massive head, his green-fire eyes, and his
+      huge jaws holding Luki. I let go of Luki’s foot and bethought myself of
+      the gun. But as I lay there on my side, before attempting to rise, I made
+      a horrible discovery. I did not have my rifle at all. I had Luki’s iron
+      spear, which he always had near him. My rifle had slipped out of the
+      hollow of my arm, and when the lion awakened me, in my confusion I picked
+      up Luki’s spear instead. The bloody brute dropped Luki and uttered a roar
+      that shook the ground. It was then I felt frightened. For an instant I was
+      almost paralyzed. The lion meant to charge, and in one spring he could
+      reach me. Under circumstances like those a man can think many things in
+      little time. I knew to try to run would be fatal. I remembered how
+      strangely lions had been known to act upon occasion. One had been
+      frightened by an umbrella; one had been frightened by a blast from a
+      cow-horn; another had been frightened by a native who in running from one
+      lion ran right at the other which he had not seen. Accordingly, I wondered
+      if I could frighten the lion that meant to leap at me. Acting upon wild
+      impulse, I prodded him in the hind quarters with the spear. Ladies and
+      gentlemen, I am a blooming idiot if that lion did not cower like a whipped
+      dog, put his tail down, and begin to slink away. Quick to see my chance, I
+      jumped up yelling, and made after him, prodding him again. He let out a
+      bellow such as you could imagine would come from an outraged king of
+      beasts. I prodded again, and then he loped off. I found Luki not badly
+      hurt. In fact, he got well. But I’ve never forgotten that scare.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Castleton finished his narrative there was a trenchant silence. All
+      eyes were upon Monty. He looked beaten, disgraced, a disgusted man. Yet
+      there shone from his face a wonderful admiration for Castleton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Dook, you win!” he said; and, dropping his head, he left the camp-fire
+      circle with the manner of a deposed emperor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the cowboys exploded. The quiet, serene, low-voiced Nels yelled like
+      a madman and he stood upon his head. All the other cowboys went through
+      marvelous contortions. Mere noise was insufficient to relieve their joy at
+      what they considered the fall and humiliation of the tyrant Monty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman stood there and watched them in amused consternation. They
+      baffled his understanding. Plain it was to Madeline and her friends that
+      Castleton had told the simple truth. But never on the earth, or anywhere
+      else, could Nels and his comrades have been persuaded that Castleton had
+      not lied deliberately to humble their great exponent of Ananias.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Everybody seemed reluctant to break the camp-fire spell. The logs had
+      burned out to a great heap of opal and gold and red coals, in the heart of
+      which quivered a glow alluring to the spirit of dreams. As the blaze
+      subsided the shadows of the pines encroached darker and darker upon the
+      circle of fading light. A cool wind fanned the embers, whipped up flakes
+      of white ashes, and moaned through the trees. The wild yelps of coyotes
+      were dying in the distance, and the sky was a wonderful dark-blue dome
+      spangled with white stars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What a perfect night!” said Madeline. “This is a night to understand the
+      dream, the mystery, the wonder of the Southwest. Florence, for long you
+      have promised to tell us the story of the lost mine of the padres. It will
+      give us all pleasure, make us understand something of the thrall in which
+      this land held the Spaniards who discovered it so many years ago. It will
+      be especially interesting now, because this mountain hides somewhere under
+      its crags the treasures of the lost mine of the padres.”
+     </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      “In the sixteenth century,” Florence began, in her soft, slow voice so
+      suited to the nature of the legend, “a poor young padre of New Spain was
+      shepherding his goats upon a hill when the Virgin appeared before him. He
+      prostrated himself at her feet, and when he looked up she was gone. But
+      upon the maguey plant near where she had stood there were golden ashes of
+      a strange and wonderful substance. He took the incident as a good omen and
+      went again to the hilltop. Under the maguey had sprung up slender stalks
+      of white, bearing delicate gold flowers, and as these flowers waved in the
+      wind a fine golden dust, as fine as powdered ashes, blew away toward the
+      north. Padre Juan was mystified, but believed that great fortune attended
+      upon him and his poor people. So he went again and again to the hilltop in
+      hope that the Virgin would appear to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “One morning, as the sun rose gloriously, he looked across the windy hill
+      toward the waving grass and golden flowers under the maguey, and he saw
+      the Virgin beckoning to him. Again he fell upon his knees; but she lifted
+      him and gave him of the golden flowers, and bade him leave his home and
+      people to follow where these blowing golden ashes led. There he would find
+      gold—pure gold—wonderful fortune to bring back to his poor
+      people to build a church for them, and a city.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Padre Juan took the flowers and left his home, promising to return, and
+      he traveled northward over the hot and dusty desert, through the mountain
+      passes, to a new country where fierce and warlike Indians menaced his
+      life. He was gentle and good, and of a persuasive speech. Moreover, he was
+      young and handsome of person. The Indians were Apaches, and among them he
+      became a missionary, while always he was searching for the flowers of
+      gold. He heard of gold lying in pebbles upon the mountain slopes, but he
+      never found any. A few of the Apaches he converted; the most of them,
+      however, were prone to be hostile to him and his religion. But Padre Juan
+      prayed and worked on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “There came a time when the old Apache chief, imagining the padre had
+      designs upon his influence with the tribe, sought to put him to death by
+      fire. The chief’s daughter, a beautiful, dark-eyed maiden, secretly loved
+      Juan and believed in his mission, and she interceded for his life and
+      saved him. Juan fell in love with her. One day she came to him wearing
+      golden flowers in her dark hair, and as the wind blew the flowers a golden
+      dust blew upon it. Juan asked her where to find such flowers, and she told
+      him that upon a certain day she would take him to the mountain to look for
+      them. And upon the day she led up to the mountain-top from which they
+      could see beautiful valleys and great trees and cool waters. There at the
+      top of a wonderful slope that looked down upon the world, she showed Juan
+      the flowers. And Juan found gold in such abundance that he thought he
+      would go out of his mind. Dust of gold! Grains of gold! Pebbles of gold!
+      Rocks of gold! He was rich beyond all dreams. He remembered the Virgin and
+      her words. He must return to his people and build their church, and the
+      great city that would bear his name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “But Juan tarried. Always he was going manana. He loved the dark-eyed
+      Apache girl so well that he could not leave her. He hated himself for his
+      infidelity to his Virgin, to his people. He was weak and false, a sinner.
+      But he could not go, and he gave himself up to love of the Indian maiden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “The old Apache chief discovered the secret love of his daughter and the
+      padre. And, fierce in his anger, he took her up into the mountains and
+      burned her alive and cast her ashes upon the wind. He did not kill Padre
+      Juan. He was too wise, and perhaps too cruel, for he saw the strength of
+      Juan’s love. Besides, many of his tribe had learned much from the
+      Spaniard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Padre Juan fell into despair. He had no desire to live. He faded and
+      wasted away. But before he died he went to the old Indians who had burned
+      the maiden, and he begged them, when he was dead, to burn his body and to
+      cast his ashes to the wind from that wonderful slope, where they would
+      blow away to mingle forever with those of his Indian sweetheart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “The Indians promised, and when Padre Juan died they burned his body and
+      took his ashes to the mountain heights and cast them to the wind, where
+      they drifted and fell to mix with the ashes of the Indian girl he had
+      loved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Years passed. More padres traveled across the desert to the home of the
+      Apaches, and they heard the story of Juan. Among their number was a padre
+      who in his youth had been one of Juan’s people. He set forth to find
+      Juan’s grave, where he believed he would also find the gold. And he came
+      back with pebbles of gold and flowers that shed a golden dust, and he told
+      a wonderful story. He had climbed and climbed into the mountains, and he
+      had come to a wonderful slope under the crags. That slope was yellow with
+      golden flowers. When he touched them golden ashes drifted from them and
+      blew down among the rocks. There the padre found dust of gold, grains of
+      gold, pebbles of gold, rocks of gold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then all the padres went into the mountains. But the discoverer of the
+      mine lost his way. They searched and searched until they were old and
+      gray, but never found the wonderful slope and flowers that marked the
+      grave and the mine of Padre Juan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “In the succeeding years the story was handed down from father to son. But
+      of the many who hunted for the lost mine of the padres there was never a
+      Mexican or an Apache. For the Apache the mountain slopes were haunted by
+      the spirit of an Indian maiden who had been false to her tribe and forever
+      accursed. For the Mexican the mountain slopes were haunted by the spirit
+      of the false padre who rolled stones upon the heads of those adventurers
+      who sought to find his grave and his accursed gold.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XVIII. Bonita
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      Florence’s story of the lost mine fired Madeline’s guests with the fever
+      for gold-hunting. But after they had tried it a few times and the glamour
+      of the thing wore off they gave up and remained in camp. Having exhausted
+      all the resources of the mountain, such that had interest for them, they
+      settled quietly down for a rest, which Madeline knew would soon end in a
+      desire for civilized comforts. They were almost tired of roughing it.
+      Helen’s discontent manifested itself in her remark, “I guess nothing is
+      going to happen, after all.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline awaited their pleasure in regard to the breaking of camp; and
+      meanwhile, as none of them cared for more exertion, she took her walks
+      without them, sometimes accompanied by one of the cowboys, always by the
+      stag-hounds. These walks furnished her exceeding pleasure. And, now that
+      the cowboys would talk to her without reserve, she grew fonder of
+      listening to their simple stories. The more she knew of them the more she
+      doubted the wisdom of shut-in lives. Companionship with Nels and most of
+      the cowboys was in its effect like that of the rugged pines and crags and
+      the untainted wind. Humor, their predominant trait when a person grew to
+      know them, saved Madeline from finding their hardness trying. They were
+      dreamers, as all men who lived lonely lives in the wilds were dreamers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboys all had secrets. Madeline learned some of them. She marveled
+      most at the strange way in which they hid emotions, except of violence of
+      mirth and temper so easily aroused. It was all the more remarkable in view
+      of the fact that they felt intensely over little things to which men of
+      the world were blind and dead. Madeline had to believe that a hard and
+      perilous life in a barren and wild country developed great principles in
+      men. Living close to earth, under the cold, bleak peaks, on the
+      dust-veiled desert, men grew like the nature that developed them—hard,
+      fierce, terrible, perhaps, but big—big with elemental force.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But one day, while out walking alone, before she realized it she had gone
+      a long way down a dim trail winding among the rocks. It was the middle of
+      a summer afternoon, and all about her were shadows of the crags crossing
+      the sunlit patches. The quiet was undisturbed. She went on and on, not
+      blind to the fact that she was perhaps going too far from camp, but
+      risking it because she was sure of her way back, and enjoying the wild,
+      craggy recesses that were new to her. Finally she came out upon a bank
+      that broke abruptly into a beautiful little glade. Here she sat down to
+      rest before undertaking the return trip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Russ, the keener of the stag-hounds, raised his head and growled.
+      Madeline feared he might have scented a mountain-lion or wildcat. She
+      quieted him and carefully looked around. To each side was an irregular
+      line of massive blocks of stone that had weathered from the crags. The
+      little glade was open and grassy, with here a pine-tree, there a boulder.
+      The outlet seemed to go down into a wilderness of canyons and ridges.
+      Looking in this direction, Madeline saw the slight, dark figure of a woman
+      coming stealthily along under the pines. Madeline was amazed, then a
+      little frightened, for that stealthy walk from tree to tree was suggestive
+      of secrecy, if nothing worse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the woman was joined by a tall man who carried a package, which
+      he gave to her. They came on up the glade and appeared to be talking
+      earnestly. In another moment Madeline recognized Stewart. She had no
+      greater feeling of surprise than had at first been hers. But for the next
+      moment she scarcely thought at all—merely watched the couple
+      approaching. In a flash came back her former curiosity as to Stewart’s
+      strange absences from camp, and then with the return of her doubt of him
+      the recognition of the woman. The small, dark head, the brown face, the
+      big eyes—Madeline now saw distinctly—belonged to the Mexican
+      girl Bonita. Stewart had met her there. This was the secret of his lonely
+      trips, taken ever since he had come to work for Madeline. This secluded
+      glade was a rendezvous. He had her hidden there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Quietly Madeline arose, with a gesture to the dogs, and went back along
+      the trail toward camp. Succeeding her surprise was a feeling of sorrow
+      that Stewart’s regeneration had not been complete. Sorrow gave place to
+      insufferable distrust that while she had been romancing about this cowboy,
+      dreaming of her good influence over him, he had been merely base. Somehow
+      it stung her. Stewart had been nothing to her, she thought, yet she had
+      been proud of him. She tried to revolve the thing, to be fair to him, when
+      every instinctive tendency was to expel him, and all pertaining to him,
+      from her thoughts. And her effort at sympathy, at extenuation, failed
+      utterly before her pride. Exerting her will-power, she dismissed Stewart
+      from her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline did not think of him again till late that afternoon, when, as she
+      was leaving her tent to join several of her guests, Stewart appeared
+      suddenly in her path.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, I saw your tracks down the trail,” he began, eagerly, but
+      his tone was easy and natural. “I’m thinking—well, maybe you sure
+      got the idea—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I do not wish for an explanation,” interrupted Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart gave a slight start. His manner had a semblance of the old, cool
+      audacity. As he looked down at her it subtly changed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What effrontery, Madeline thought, to face her before her guests with an
+      explanation of his conduct! Suddenly she felt an inward flash of fire that
+      was pain, so strange, so incomprehensible, that her mind whirled. Then
+      anger possessed her, not at Stewart, but at herself, that anything could
+      rouse in her a raw emotion. She stood there, outwardly cold, serene, with
+      level, haughty eyes upon Stewart; but inwardly she was burning with rage
+      and shame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m sure not going to have you think—” He began passionately, but
+      he broke off, and a slow, dull crimson blotted over the healthy red-brown
+      of his neck and cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What you do or think, Stewart, is no concern of mine.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss—Miss Hammond! You don’t believe—” faltered Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The crimson receded from his face, leaving it pale. His eyes were
+      appealing. They had a kind of timid look that struck Madeline even in her
+      anger. There was something boyish about him then. He took a step forward
+      and reached out with his hand open-palmed in a gesture that was humble,
+      yet held a certain dignity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “But listen. Never mind now what you—you think about me. There’s a
+      good reason—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I have no wish to hear your reason.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “But you ought to,” he persisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sir!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart underwent another swift change. He started violently. A dark tide
+      shaded his face and a glitter leaped to his eyes. He took two long strides—loomed
+      over her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m not thinking about myself,” he thundered. “Will you listen?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No,” she replied; and there was freezing hauteur in her voice. With a
+      slight gesture of dismissal, unmistakable in its finality, she turned her
+      back upon him. Then she joined her guests.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart stood perfectly motionless. Then slowly he began to lift his right
+      hand in which he held his sombrero. He swept it up and up high over his
+      head. His tall form towered. With fierce suddenness he flung his sombrero
+      down. He leaped at his black horse and dragged him to where his saddle
+      lay. With one pitch he tossed the saddle upon the horse’s back. His strong
+      hands flashed at girths and straps. Every action was swift, decisive,
+      fierce. Bounding for his bridle, which hung over a bush, he ran against a
+      cowboy who awkwardly tried to avoid the onslaught.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Get out of my way!” he yelled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then with the same savage haste he adjusted the bridle on his horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mebbe you better hold on a minnit, Gene, ole feller,” said Monty Price.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Monty, do you want me to brain you?” said Stewart, with the short, hard
+      ring in his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Now, considerin’ the high class of my brains, I oughter be real careful
+      to keep ’em,” replied Monty. “You can betcher life, Gene, I ain’t goin’ to
+      git in front of you. But I jest says—Listen!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart raised his dark face. Everybody listened. And everybody heard the
+      rapid beat of a horse’s hoofs. The sun had set, but the park was light.
+      Nels appeared down the trail, and his horse was running. In another moment
+      he was in the circle, pulling his bay back to a sliding halt. He leaped
+      off abreast of Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw and felt a difference in Nels’s presence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What’s up, Gene?” he queried, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m leaving camp,” replied Stewart, thickly. His black horse began to
+      stamp as Stewart grasped bridle and mane and kicked the stirrup round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels’s long arm shot out, and his hand fell upon Stewart, holding him
+      down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shore I’m sorry,” said Nels, slowly. “Then you was goin’ to hit the
+      trail?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am going to. Let go, Nels.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shore you ain’t goin’, Gene?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Let go, damn you!” cried Stewart, as he wrestled free.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What’s wrong?” asked Nels, lifting his hand again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Man! Don’t touch me!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels stepped back instantly. He seemed to become aware of Stewart’s white,
+      wild passion. Again Stewart moved to mount.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, don’t make me forget we’ve been friends,” he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shore I ain’t fergettin’,” replied Nels. “An’ I resign my job right here
+      an’ now!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His strange speech checked the mounting cowboy. Stewart stepped down from
+      the stirrup. Then their hard faces were still and cold while their eyes
+      locked glances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was as much startled by Nels’s speech as Stewart. Quick to note a
+      change in these men, she now sensed one that was unfathomable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Resign?” questioned Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shore. What ’d you think I’d do under circumstances sich as has come up?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “But see here, Nels, I won’t stand for it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You’re not my boss no more, an’ I ain’t beholdin’ to Miss Hammond,
+      neither. I’m my own boss, an’ I’ll do as I please. Sabe, senor?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels’s words were at variance with the meaning in his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene, you sent me on a little scout down in the mountains, didn’t you?”
+       he continued.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, I did,” replied Stewart, with a new sharpness in his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, shore you was so good an’ right in your figgerin’, as opposed to
+      mine, that I’m sick with admirin’ of you. If you hedn’t sent me—wal,
+      I’m reckonin’ somethin’ might hev happened. As it is we’re shore up
+      against a hell of a proposition!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      How significant was the effect of his words upon all the cowboys! Stewart
+      made a fierce and violent motion, terrible where his other motions had
+      been but passionate. Monty leaped straight up into the air in a singular
+      action as suggestive of surprise as it was of wild acceptance of menace.
+      Like a stalking giant Nick Steele strode over to Nels and Stewart. The
+      other cowboys rose silently, without a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline and her guests, in a little group, watched and listened, unable
+      to divine what all this strange talk and action meant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hold on, Nels, they don’t need to hear it,” said Stewart, hoarsely, as he
+      waved a hand toward Madeline’s silent group.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I’m sorry, but I reckon they’d as well know fust as last. Mebbe thet
+      yearnin’ wish of Miss Helen’s fer somethin’ to happen will come true.
+      Shore I—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Cut out the joshin’,” rang out Monty’s strident voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It had as decided an effect as any preceding words or action. Perhaps it
+      was the last thing needed to transform these men, doing unaccustomed duty
+      as escorts of beautiful women, to their natural state as men of the wild.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Tell us what’s what,” said Stewart, cool and grim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Don Carlos an’ his guerrillas are campin’ on the trails thet lead up
+      here. They’ve got them trails blocked. By to-morrer they’d hed us
+      corralled. Mebbe they meant to surprise us. He’s got a lot of Greasers an’
+      outlaws. They’re well armed. Now what do they mean? You-all can figger it
+      out to suit yourselves. Mebbe the Don wants to pay a sociable call on our
+      ladies. Mebbe his gang is some hungry, as usual. Mebbe they want to steal
+      a few hosses, or anythin’ they can lay hands on. Mebbe they mean wuss,
+      too. Now my idee is this, an’ mebbe it’s wrong. I long since separated
+      from love with Greasers. Thet black-faced Don Carlos has got a deep game.
+      Thet two-bit of a revolution is hevin’ hard times. The rebels want
+      American intervention. They’d stretch any point to make trouble. We’re
+      only ten miles from the border. Suppose them guerrillas got our crowd
+      across thet border? The U. S. cavalry would foller. You-all know what
+      thet’d mean. Mebbe Don Carlos’s mind works thet way. Mebbe it don’t. I
+      reckon we’ll know soon. An’ now, Stewart, whatever the Don’s game is,
+      shore you’re the man to outfigger him. Mebbe it’s just as well you’re good
+      an’ mad about somethin’. An’ I resign my job because I want to feel
+      unbeholdin’ to anybody. Shore it struck me long since thet the old days
+      hed come back fer a little spell, an’ there I was trailin’ a promise not
+      to hurt any Greaser.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XIX. Don Carlos
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      Stewart took Nels, Monty, and Nick Steele aside out of earshot, and they
+      evidently entered upon an earnest colloquy. Presently the other cowboys
+      were called. They all talked more or less, but the deep voice of Stewart
+      predominated over the others. Then the consultation broke up, and the
+      cowboys scattered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Rustle, you Indians!” ordered Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ensuing scene of action was not reassuring to Madeline and her
+      friends. They were quiet, awaiting some one to tell them what to do. At
+      the offset the cowboys appeared to have forgotten Madeline. Some of them
+      ran off into the woods, others into the open, grassy places, where they
+      rounded up the horses and burros. Several cowboys spread tarpaulins upon
+      the ground and began to select and roll small packs, evidently for hurried
+      travel. Nels mounted his horse to ride down the trail. Monty and Nick
+      Steele went off into the grove, leading their horses. Stewart climbed up a
+      steep jumble of stone between two sections of low, cracked cliff back of
+      the camp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Castleton offered to help the packers, and was curtly told he would be in
+      the way. Madeline’s friends all importuned her: Was there real danger?
+      Were the guerrillas coming? Would a start be made at once for the ranch?
+      Why had the cowboys suddenly become so different? Madeline answered as
+      best she could; but her replies were only conjecture, and modified to
+      allay the fears of her guests. Helen was in a white glow of excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon cowboys appeared riding barebacked horses, driving in others and the
+      burros. Some of these horses were taken away and evidently hidden in deep
+      recesses between the crags. The string of burros were packed and sent off
+      down the trail in charge of a cowboy. Nick Steele and Monty returned. Then
+      Stewart appeared, clambering down the break between the cliffs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His next move was to order all the baggage belonging to Madeline and her
+      guests taken up the cliff. This was strenuous toil, requiring the need of
+      lassoes to haul up the effects.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Get ready to climb,” said Stewart, turning to Madelines party.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Where?” asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He waved his hand at the ascent to be made. Exclamations of dismay
+      followed his gesture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mr. Stewart, is there danger?” asked Dorothy; and her voice trembled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the question Madeline had upon her lips to ask Stewart, but she
+      could not speak it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No, there’s no danger,” replied Stewart, “but we’re taking precautions we
+      all agreed on as best.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy whispered that she believed Stewart lied. Castleton asked another
+      question, and then Harvey followed suit. Mrs. Beck made a timid query.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Please keep quiet and do as you’re told,” said Stewart, bluntly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this juncture, when the last of the baggage was being hauled up the
+      cliff, Monty approached Madeline and removed his sombrero. His black face
+      seemed the same, yet this was a vastly changed Monty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, I’m givin’ notice I resign my job,” he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Monty! What do you mean? What does Nels mean now, when danger threatens?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “We jest quit. Thet’s all,” replied Monty, tersely. He was stern and
+      somber; he could not stand still; his eyes roved everywhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Castleton jumped up from the log where he had been sitting, and his face
+      was very red.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mr. Price, does all this blooming fuss mean we are to be robbed or
+      attacked or abducted by a lot of ragamuffin guerrillas?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You’ve called the bet.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy turned a very pale face toward Monty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mr. Price, you wouldn’t—you couldn’t desert us now? You and Mr.
+      Nels—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Desert you?” asked Monty, blankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes, desert us. Leave us when we may need you so much, with something
+      dreadful coming.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty uttered a short, hard laugh as he bent a strange look upon the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Me an’ Nels is purty much scared, an’ we’re goin’ to slope. Miss Dorothy,
+      bein’ as we’ve rustled round so much; it sorta hurts us to see nice young
+      girls dragged off by the hair.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy uttered a little cry and then became hysterical. Castleton for
+      once was fully aroused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “By Gad! You and your partner are a couple of blooming cowards. Where now
+      is that courage you boasted of?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty’s dark face expressed extreme sarcasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Dook, in my time I’ve seen some bright fellers, but you take the cake.
+      It’s most marvelous how bright you are. Figger’n’ me an’ Nels so correct.
+      Say, Dook, if you don’t git rustled off to Mexico an’ roped to a
+      cactus-bush you’ll hev a swell story fer your English chums. Bah Jove!
+      You’ll tell ’em how you seen two old-time gun-men run like scared
+      jack-rabbits from a lot of Greasers. Like hell you will! Unless you lie
+      like the time you told about proddin’ the lion. That there story allus—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Monty, shut up!” yelled Stewart, as he came hurriedly up. Then Monty
+      slouched away, cursing to himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline and Helen, assisted by Castleton, worked over Dorothy, and with
+      some difficulty quieted her. Stewart passed several times without noticing
+      them, and Monty, who had been so ridiculously eager to pay every little
+      attention to Dorothy, did not see her at all. Rude it seemed; in Monty’s
+      ease more than that. Madeline hardly knew what to make of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart directed cowboys to go to the head of the open place in the cliff
+      and let down lassoes. Then, with little waste of words, he urged the women
+      toward this rough ladder of stones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “We want to hide you,” he said, when they demurred. “If the guerrillas
+      come we’ll tell them you’ve all gone down to the ranch. If we have to
+      fight you’ll be safe up there.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen stepped boldly forward and let Stewart put the loop of a lasso round
+      her and tighten it. He waved his hand to the cowboys above.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Just walk up, now,” he directed Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It proved to the watchers to be an easy, safe, and rapid means of scaling
+      the steep passage. The men climbed up without assistance. Mrs. Beck, as
+      usual, had hysteria; she half walked and was half dragged up. Stewart
+      supported Dorothy with one arm, while with the other he held to the lasso.
+      Ambrose had to carry Christine. The Mexican women required no assistance.
+      Edith Wayne and Madeline climbed last; and, once up, Madeline saw a narrow
+      bench, thick with shrubs, and overshadowed by huge, leaning crags. There
+      were holes in the rock, and dark fissures leading back. It was a rough,
+      wild place. Tarpaulins and bedding were then hauled up, and food and
+      water. The cowboys spread comfortable beds in several of the caves, and
+      told Madeline and her friends to be as quiet as possible, not to make a
+      light, and to sleep dressed, ready for travel at a moment’s notice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the cowboys had gone down it was not a cheerful group left there in
+      the darkening twilight. Castleton prevailed upon them to eat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “This is simply great,” whispered Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, it’s awful!” moaned Dorothy. “It’s your fault, Helen. You prayed for
+      something to happen.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I believe it’s a horrid trick those cowboys are playing,” said Mrs. Beck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline assured her friends that no trick was being played upon them, and
+      that she deplored the discomfort and distress, but felt no real alarm. She
+      was more inclined to evasive kindness here than to sincerity, for she had
+      a decided uneasiness. The swift change in the manner and looks of her
+      cowboys had been a shock to her. The last glance she had of Stewart’s
+      face, then stern, almost sad, and haggard with worry, remained to augment
+      her foreboding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Darkness appeared to drop swiftly down; the coyotes began their haunting,
+      mournful howls; the stars showed and grew brighter; the wind moaned
+      through the tips of the pines. Castleton was restless. He walked to and
+      fro before the overhanging shelf of rock, where his companions sat
+      lamenting, and presently he went out to the ledge of the bench. The
+      cowboys below had built a fire, and the light from it rose in a huge,
+      fan-shaped glow. Castleton’s little figure stood out black against this
+      light. Curious and anxious also, Madeline joined him and peered down from
+      the cliff. The distance was short, and occasionally she could distinguish
+      a word spoken by the cowboys. They were unconcernedly cooking and eating.
+      She marked the absence of Stewart, and mentioned it to Castleton. Silently
+      Castleton pointed almost straight down, and there in the gloom stood
+      Stewart, with the two stag-hounds at his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Nick Steele silenced the camp-fire circle by raising a warning
+      hand. The cowboys bent their heads, listening. Madeline listened with all
+      her might. She heard one of the hounds whine, then the faint beat of
+      horse’s hoofs. Nick spoke again and turned to his supper, and the other
+      men seemed to slacken in attention. The beat of hoofs grew louder, entered
+      the grove, then the circle of light. The rider was Nels. He dismounted,
+      and the sound of his low voice just reached Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene, it’s Nels. Somethin’ doin’,” Madeline heard one of the cowboys
+      call, softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Send him over,” replied Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels stalked away from the fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “See here, Nels, the boys are all right, but I don’t want them to know
+      everything about this mix-up,” said Stewart, as Nels came up. “Did you
+      find the girl?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline guessed that Stewart referred to the Mexican girl Bonita.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No. But I met”—Madeline did not catch the name—“an’ he was
+      wild. He was with a forest-ranger. An’ they said Pat Hawe had trailed her
+      an’ was takin’ her down under arrest.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart muttered deep under his breath, evidently cursing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wonder why he didn’t come on up here?” he queried, presently. “He can see
+      a trail.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, Gene, Pat knowed you was here all right, fer thet ranger said Pat
+      hed wind of the guerrillas, an’ Pat said if Don Carlos didn’t kill you—which
+      he hoped he’d do—then it ’d be time enough to put you in jail when
+      you come down.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “He’s dead set to arrest me, Nels.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “An’ he’ll do it, like the old lady who kept tavern out West. Gene, the
+      reason thet red-faced coyote didn’t trail you up here is because he’s
+      scared. He allus was scared of you. But I reckon he’s shore scared to
+      death of me an’ Monty.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, we’ll take Pat in his turn. The thing now is, when will that
+      Greaser stalk us, and what’ll we do when he comes?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “My boy, there’s only one way to handle a Greaser. I shore told you thet.
+      He means rough toward us. He’ll come smilin’ up, all soci’ble like,
+      insinuatin’ an’ sweeter ’n a woman. But he’s treacherous; he’s wuss than
+      an Indian. An’, Gene, we know for a positive fact how his gang hev been
+      operatin’ between these hills an’ Agua Prieta. They’re no nervy gang of
+      outlaws like we used to hev. But they’re plumb bad. They’ve raided and
+      murdered through the San Luis Pass an’ Guadalupe Canyon. They’ve murdered
+      women, an’ wuss than thet, both north an’ south of Agua Prieta. Mebbe the
+      U. S. cavalry don’t know it, an’ the good old States; but we, you an’ me
+      an’ Monty an’ Nick, we know it. We know jest about what thet rebel war
+      down there amounts to. It’s guerrilla war, an’ shore some harvest-time fer
+      a lot of cheap thieves an’ outcasts.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, you’re right, Nels. I’m not disputing that,” replied Stewart. “If it
+      wasn’t for Miss Hammond and the other women, I’d rather enjoy seeing you
+      and Monty open up on that bunch. I’m thinking I’d be glad to meet Don
+      Carlos. But Miss Hammond! Why, Nels, such a woman as she is would never
+      recover from the sight of real gun-play, let alone any stunts with a rope.
+      These Eastern women are different. I’m not belittling our Western women.
+      It’s in the blood. Miss Hammond is—is—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shore she is,” interrupted Nels; “but she’s got a damn sight more spunk
+      than you think she has, Gene Stewart. I’m no thick-skulled cow. I’d hate
+      somethin’ powerful to hev Miss Hammond see any rough work, let alone me
+      an’ Monty startin’ somethin’. An’ me an’ Monty’ll stick to you, Gene, as
+      long as seems reasonable. Mind, ole feller, beggin’ your pardon, you’re
+      shore stuck on Miss Hammond, an’ over-tender not to hurt her feelin’s or
+      make her sick by lettin’ some blood. We’re in bad here, an’ mebbe we’ll
+      hev to fight. Sabe, senor? Wal, we do you can jest gamble thet Miss
+      Hammond’ll be game. An’ I’ll bet you a million pesos thet if you got goin’
+      onct, an’ she seen you as I’ve seen you—wal, I know what she’d think
+      of you. This old world ain’t changed much. Some women may be white-skinned
+      an’ soft-eyed an’ sweet-voiced an’ high-souled, but they all like to see a
+      man! Gene, here’s your game. Let Don Carlos come along. Be civil. If he
+      an’ his gang are hungry, feed ’em. Take even a little overbearin’ Greaser
+      talk. Be blind if he wants his gang to steal somethin’. Let him think the
+      women hev mosied down to the ranch. But if he says you’re lyin’—if
+      he as much as looks round to see the women—jest jump him same as you
+      jumped Pat Hawe. Me an’ Monty’ll hang back fer thet, an’ if your strong
+      bluff don’t go through, if the Don’s gang even thinks of flashin’ guns,
+      then we’ll open up. An’ all I got to say is if them Greasers stand fer
+      real gun-play they’ll be the fust I ever seen.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, there are white men in that gang,” said Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shore. But me an’ Monty’ll be thinkin’ of thet. If they start anythin’
+      it’ll hev to be shore quick.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “All right, Nels, old friend, and thanks,” replied Stewart. Nels returned
+      to the camp-fire, and Stewart resumed his silent guard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline led Castleton away from the brink of the wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “By Jove! Cowboys are blooming strange folk!” he exclaimed. “They are not
+      what they pretend to be.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Indeed, you are right,” replied Madeline. “I cannot understand them.
+      Come, let us tell the others that Nels and Monty were only talking and do
+      not intend to leave us. Dorothy, at least, will be less frightened if she
+      knows.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy was somewhat comforted. The others, however, complained of the
+      cowboys’ singular behavior. More than once the idea was advanced that an
+      elaborate trick had been concocted. Upon general discussion this idea
+      gained ground. Madeline did not combat it, because she saw it tended to a
+      less perturbed condition of mind among her guests. Castleton for once
+      proved that he was not absolutely obtuse, and helped along the idea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They sat talking in low voices until a late hour. The incident now began
+      to take on the nature of Helen’s long-yearned-for adventure. Some of the
+      party even grew merry in a subdued way. Then, gradually, one by one they
+      tired and went to bed. Helen vowed she could not sleep in a place where
+      there were bats and crawling things. Madeline fancied, however, that they
+      all went to sleep while she lay wide-eyed, staring up at the black bulge
+      of overhanging rock and beyond the starry sky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To keep from thinking of Stewart and the burning anger he had caused her
+      to feel for herself, Madeline tried to keep her mind on other things. But
+      thought of him recurred, and each time there was a hot commotion in her
+      breast hard to stifle. Intelligent reasoning seemed out of her power. In
+      the daylight it had been possible for her to be oblivious to Stewart’s
+      deceit after the moment of its realization. At night, however, in the
+      strange silence and hovering shadows of gloom, with the speaking stars
+      seeming to call to her, with the moan of the wind in the pines, and the
+      melancholy mourn of coyotes in the distance, she was not able to govern
+      her thought and emotion. The day was practical, cold; the night was
+      strange and tense. In the darkness she had fancies wholly unknown to her
+      in the bright light of the sun. She battled with a haunting thought. She
+      had inadvertently heard Nels’s conversation with Stewart; she had
+      listened, hoping to hear some good news or to hear the worst; she had
+      learned both, and, moreover, enlightenment on one point of Stewart’s
+      complex motives. He wished to spare her any sight that might offend,
+      frighten, or disgust her. Yet this Stewart, who showed a fineness of
+      feeling that might have been wanting even in Boyd Harvey, maintained a
+      secret rendezvous with that pretty, abandoned Bonita. Here always the hot
+      shame, like a live, stinging, internal fire, abruptly ended Madeline’s
+      thought. It was intolerable, and it was the more so because she could
+      neither control nor understand it. The hours wore on, and at length, as
+      the stars began to pale and there was no sound whatever, she fell asleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was called out of her slumber. Day had broken bright and cool. The sun
+      was still below the eastern crags. Ambrose, with several other cowboys,
+      had brought up buckets of spring-water, and hot coffee and cakes.
+      Madeline’s party appeared to be none the worse for the night’s experience.
+      Indeed, the meager breakfast might have been as merrily partaken of as it
+      was hungrily had not Ambrose enjoined silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “They’re expectin’ company down below,” he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This information and the summary manner in which the cowboys soon led the
+      party higher up among the ruined shelves of rock caused a recurrence of
+      anxiety. Madeline insisted on not going beyond a projection of cliff from
+      which she could see directly down into the camp. As the vantage-point was
+      one affording concealment, Ambrose consented, but he placed the frightened
+      Christine near Madeline and remained there himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ambrose, do you really think the guerrillas will come?” asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sure. We know. Nels just rode in and said they were on their way up. Miss
+      Hammond, can I trust you? You won’t let out a squeal if there’s a fight
+      down there? Stewart told me to hide you out of sight or keep you from
+      lookin’.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I promise not to make any noise,” replied Madeline. Madeline arranged her
+      coat so that she could lie upon it, and settled down to wait developments.
+      There came a slight rattling of stones in the rear. She turned to see
+      Helen sliding down a bank with a perplexed and troubled cowboy. Helen came
+      stooping low to where Madeline lay and said: “I am going to see what
+      happens, if I die in the attempt! I can stand it if you can.” She was pale
+      and big-eyed. Ambrose promptly swore at the cowboy who had let her get
+      away from him. “Take a half-hitch on her yourself an’ see where you end
+      up,” replied the fellow, and disappeared in the jumble of rocks. Ambrose,
+      finding words useless, sternly and heroically prepared to carry Helen back
+      to the others. He laid hold of her. In a fury, with eyes blazing, Helen
+      whispered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Let go of me! Majesty, what does this fool mean?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline laughed. She knew Helen, and had marked the whisper, when
+      ordinarily Helen would have spoken imperiously, and not low. Madeline
+      explained to her the exigency of the situation. “I might run, but I’ll
+      never scream,” said Helen. With that Ambrose had to be content to let her
+      stay. However, he found her a place somewhat farther back from Madeline’s
+      position, where he said there was less danger of her being seen. Then he
+      sternly bound her to silence, tarried a moment to comfort Christine, and
+      returned to where Madeline lay concealed. He had been there scarcely a
+      moment when he whispered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I hear hosses. The guerrillas are comin’.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s hiding-place was well protected from possible discovery from
+      below. She could peep over a kind of parapet, through an opening in the
+      tips of the pines that reached up to the cliff, and obtain a commanding
+      view of the camp circle and its immediate surroundings. She could not,
+      however, see far either to right or left of the camp, owing to the
+      obstructing foliage. Presently the sound of horses’ hoofs quickened the
+      beat of her pulse and caused her to turn keener gaze upon the cowboys
+      below.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Although she had some inkling of the course Stewart and his men were to
+      pursue, she was not by any means prepared for the indifference she saw.
+      Frank was asleep, or pretended to be. Three cowboys were lazily and
+      unconcernedly attending to camp-fire duties, such as baking biscuits,
+      watching the ovens, and washing tins and pots. The elaborate set of
+      aluminum plates, cups, etc., together with the other camp fixtures that
+      had done service for Madeline’s party, had disappeared. Nick Steele sat
+      with his back to a log, smoking his pipe. Another cowboy had just brought
+      the horses closer into camp, where they stood waiting to be saddled. Nels
+      appeared to be fussing over a pack. Stewart was rolling a cigarette. Monty
+      had apparently nothing to do for the present except whistle, which he was
+      doing much more loudly than melodiously. The whole ensemble gave an
+      impression of careless indifference.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sound of horses’ hoofs grew louder and slowed its beat. One of the
+      cowboys pointed down the trail, toward which several of his comrades
+      turned their heads for a moment, then went on with their occupations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently a shaggy, dusty horse bearing a lean, ragged, dark rider rode
+      into camp and halted. Another followed, and another. Horses with Mexican
+      riders came in single file and stopped behind the leader.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboys looked up, and the guerrillas looked down. “Buenos dias,
+      senor,” ceremoniously said the foremost guerrilla.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By straining her ears Madeline heard that voice, and she recognized it as
+      belonging to Don Carlos. His graceful bow to Stewart was also familiar.
+      Otherwise she would never have recognized the former elegant vaquero in
+      this uncouth, roughly dressed Mexican.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart answered the greeting in Spanish, and, waving his hand toward the
+      camp-fire, added in English, “Get down and eat.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The guerrillas were anything but slow in complying. They crowded to the
+      fire, then spread in a little circle and squatted upon the ground, laying
+      their weapons beside them. In appearance they tallied with the band of
+      guerrillas that had carried Madeline up into the foothills, only this band
+      was larger and better armed. The men, moreover, were just as hungry and as
+      wild and beggarly. The cowboys were not cordial in their reception of this
+      visit, but they were hospitable. The law of the desert had always been to
+      give food and drink to wayfaring men, whether lost or hunted or hunting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “There’s twenty-three in that outfit,” whispered Ambrose, “includin’ four
+      white men. Pretty rummy outfit.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “They appear to be friendly enough,” whispered Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Things down there ain’t what they seem,” replied Ambrose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ambrose, tell me—explain to me. This is my opportunity. As long as
+      you will let me watch them, please let me know the—the real thing.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sure. But recollect, Miss Hammond, that Gene’ll give it to me good if he
+      ever knows I let you look and told you what’s what. Well, decent-like Gene
+      is seen’ them poor devils get a square meal. They’re only a lot of
+      calf-thieves in this country. Across the border they’re bandits, some of
+      them, the others just riffraff outlaws. That rebel bluff doesn’t go down
+      with us. I’d have to see first before I’d believe them Greasers would
+      fight. They’re a lot of hard-ridin’ thieves, and they’d steal a fellow’s
+      blanket or tobacco. Gene thinks they’re after you ladies—to carry
+      you off. But Gene—Oh, Gene’s some highfalutin in his ideas lately.
+      Most of us boys think the guerrillas are out to rob—that’s all.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whatever might have been the secret motive of Don Carlos and his men, they
+      did not allow it to interfere with a hearty appreciation of a generous
+      amount of food. Plainly, each individual ate all that he was able to eat
+      at the time. They jabbered like a flock of parrots; some were even merry,
+      in a kind of wild way. Then, as each and every one began to roll and smoke
+      the inevitable cigarette of the Mexican, there was a subtle change in
+      manner. They smoked and looked about the camp, off into the woods, up at
+      the crags, and back at the leisurely cowboys. They had the air of men
+      waiting for something.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senor,” began Don Carlos, addressing Stewart. As he spoke he swept his
+      sombrero to indicate the camp circle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline could not distinguish his words, but his gesture plainly
+      indicated a question in regard to the rest of the camping party. Stewart’s
+      reply and the wave of his hand down the trail meant that his party had
+      gone home. Stewart turned to some task, and the guerrilla leader quietly
+      smoked. He looked cunning and thoughtful. His men gradually began to
+      manifest a restlessness, noticeable in the absence of former languor and
+      slow puffing of cigarette smoke. Presently a big-boned man with a bullet
+      head and a blistered red face of evil coarseness got up and threw away his
+      cigarette. He was an American.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hey, cull,” he called in loud voice, “ain’t ye goin’ to cough up a
+      drink?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “My boys don’t carry liquor on the trail,” replied Stewart. He turned now
+      to face the guerrillas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Haw, haw! I heerd over in Rodeo thet ye was gittin’ to be shore some fer
+      temperance,” said this fellow. “I hate to drink water, but I guess I’ve
+      gotter do it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went to the spring, sprawled down to drink, and all of a sudden he
+      thrust his arm down in the water to bring forth a basket. The cowboys in
+      the hurry of packing had neglected to remove this basket; and it contained
+      bottles of wine and liquors for Madeline’s guests. They had been submerged
+      in the spring to keep them cold. The guerrilla fumbled with the lid,
+      opened it, and then got up, uttering a loud roar of delight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart made an almost imperceptible motion, as if to leap forward; but he
+      checked the impulse, and after a quick glance at Nels he said to the
+      guerrilla:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Guess my party forgot that. You’re welcome to it.” Like bees the
+      guerrillas swarmed around the lucky finder of the bottles. There was a
+      babel of voices. The drink did not last long, and it served only to
+      liberate the spirit of recklessness. The several white outlaws began to
+      prowl around the camp; some of the Mexicans did likewise; others waited,
+      showing by their ill-concealed expectancy the nature of their thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the demeanor of Stewart and his comrades that puzzled Madeline.
+      Apparently they felt no anxiety or even particular interest. Don Carlos,
+      who had been covertly watching them, now made his scrutiny open, even
+      aggressive. He looked from Stewart to Nels and Monty, and then to the
+      other cowboys. While some of his men prowled around the others watched
+      him, and the waiting attitude had taken on something sinister. The
+      guerrilla leader seemed undecided, but not in any sense puzzled. When he
+      turned his cunning face upon Nels and Monty he had the manner of a man in
+      whom decision was lacking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In her growing excitement Madeline had not clearly heard Ambrose’s low
+      whispers and she made an effort to distract some of her attention from
+      those below to the cowboy crouching beside her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The quality, the note of Ambrose’s whisper had changed. It had a slight
+      sibilant sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Don’t be mad if sudden-like I clap my hands over your eyes, Miss
+      Hammond,” he was saying. “Somethin’s brewin’ below. I never seen Gene so
+      cool. That’s a dangerous sign in him. And look, see how the boys are
+      workin’ together! Oh, it’s slow and accident-like, but I know it’s sure
+      not accident. That foxy Greaser knows, too. But maybe his men don’t. If
+      they are wise they haven’t sense enough to care. The Don, though—he’s
+      worried. He’s not payin’ so much attention to Gene, either. It’s Nels and
+      Monty he’s watchin’. And well he need do it! There, Nick and Frank have
+      settled down on that log with Booly. They don’t seem to be packin’ guns.
+      But look how heavy their vests hang. A gun in each side! Those boys can
+      pull a gun and flop over that log quicker than you can think. Do you
+      notice how Nels and Monty and Gene are square between them guerrillas and
+      the trail up here? It doesn’t seem on purpose, but it is. Look at Nels and
+      Monty. How quiet they are confabbin’ together, payin’ no attention to the
+      guerrillas. I see Monty look at Gene, then I see Nels look at Gene. Well,
+      it’s up to Gene. And they’re goin’ to back him. I reckon, Miss Hammond,
+      there’d be dead Greasers round that camp long ago if Nels and Monty were
+      foot-loose. They’re beholdin’ to Gene. That’s plain. And, Lord! how it
+      tickles me to watch them! Both packin’ two forty-fives, butts swingin’
+      clear. There’s twenty-four shots in them four guns. And there’s
+      twenty-three guerrillas. If Nels and Monty ever throw guns at that close
+      range, why, before you’d know what was up there’d be a pile of Greasers.
+      There! Stewart said something to the Don. I wonder what. I’ll gamble it
+      was something to get the Don’s outfit all close together. Sure! Greasers
+      have no sense. But them white guerrillas, they’re lookin’ some dubious.
+      Whatever’s comin’ off will come soon, you can bet. I wish I was down
+      there. But maybe it won’t come to a scrap. Stewart’s set on avoidin’ that.
+      He’s a wonderful chap to get his way. Lord, though, I’d like to see him go
+      after that overbearin’ Greaser! See! the Don can’t stand prosperity. All
+      this strange behavior of cowboys is beyond his pulque-soaked brains. Then
+      he’s a Greaser. If Gene doesn’t knock him on the head presently he’ll
+      begin to get over his scare, even of Nels and Monty. But Gene’ll pick out
+      the right time. And I’m gettin’ nervous. I want somethin’ to start. Never
+      saw Nels in but one fight, then he just shot a Greaser’s arm off for
+      tryin’ to draw on him. But I’ve heard all about him. And Monty! Monty’s
+      the real old-fashioned gun-man. Why, none of them stories, them lies he
+      told to entertain the Englishman, was a marker to what Monty has done.
+      What I don’t understand is how Monty keeps so quiet and easy and
+      peaceful-like. That’s not his way, with such an outfit lookin’ for
+      trouble. O-ha! Now for the grand bluff. Looks like no fight at all!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The guerrilla leader had ceased his restless steps and glances, and turned
+      to Stewart with something of bold resolution in his aspect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gracias, senor,” he said. “Adios.” He swept his sombrero in the direction
+      of the trail leading down the mountain to the ranch; and as he completed
+      the gesture a smile, crafty and jeering, crossed his swarthy face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ambrose whispered so low that Madeline scarcely heard him. “If the Greaser
+      goes that way he’ll find our horses and get wise to the trick. Oh, he’s
+      wise now! But I’ll gamble he never even starts on that trail.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Neither hurriedly nor guardedly Stewart rose out of his leaning posture
+      and took a couple of long strides toward Don Carlos.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Go back the way you came,” he fairly yelled; and his voice had the ring
+      of a bugle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ambrose nudged Madeline; his whisper was tense and rapid: “Don’t miss
+      nothin’. Gene’s called him. Whatever’s comin’ off will be here quick as
+      lightnin’. See! I guess maybe that Greaser don’t savvy good U. S. lingo.
+      Look at that dirty yaller face turn green. Put one eye on Nels and Monty!
+      That’s great—just to see ’em. Just as quiet and easy. But oh, the
+      difference! Bent and stiff—that means every muscle is like a rawhide
+      riata. They’re watchin’ with eyes that can see the workin’s of them
+      Greasers’ minds. Now there ain’t a hoss-hair between them Greasers and
+      hell!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Don Carlos gave Stewart one long malignant stare; then he threw back his
+      head, swept up the sombrero, and his evil smile showed gleaming teeth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senor—” he began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With magnificent bound Stewart was upon him. The guerrilla’s cry was
+      throttled in his throat. A fierce wrestling ensued, too swift to see
+      clearly; then heavy, sodden blows, and Don Carlos was beaten to the
+      ground. Stewart leaped back. Then, crouching with his hands on the butts
+      of guns at his hips, he yelled, he thundered at the guerrillas. He had
+      been quicker than a panther, and now his voice was so terrible that it
+      curdled Madeline’s blood, and the menace of deadly violence in his
+      crouching position made her shut her eyes. But she had to open them. In
+      that single instant Nels and Monty had leaped to Stewart’s side. Both were
+      bent down, with hands on the butts of guns at their hips. Nels’s piercing
+      yell seemed to divide Monty’s roar of rage. Then they ceased, and echoes
+      clapped from the crags. The silence of those three men crouching like
+      tigers about to leap was more menacing than the nerve-racking yells.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the guerrillas wavered and broke and ran for their horses. Don Carlos
+      rolled over, rose, and staggered away, to be helped upon his mount. He
+      looked back, his pale and bloody face that of a thwarted demon. The whole
+      band got into action and were gone in a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I knew it,” declared Ambrose. “Never seen a Greaser who could face
+      gun-play. That was some warm. And Monty Price never flashed a gun! He’ll
+      never get over that. I reckon, Miss Harnmond, we’re some lucky to avoid
+      trouble. Gene had his way, as you seen. We’ll be makin’ tracks for the
+      ranch in about two shakes.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why?” whispered Madeline, breathlessly. She became conscious that she was
+      weak and shaken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Because the guerrillas sure will get their nerve back, and come sneakin’
+      on our trail or try to head us off by ambushin’,” replied Ambrose. “That’s
+      their way. Otherwise three cowboys couldn’t bluff a whole gang like that.
+      Gene knows the nature of Greasers. They’re white-livered. But I reckon
+      we’re in more danger now than before, unless we get a good start down the
+      mountain. There! Gene’s callin’. Come! Hurry!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had slipped down from her vantage-point, and therefore had not seen
+      the last act in that little camp-fire drama. It seemed, however, that her
+      desire for excitement was satisfied, for her face was pale and she
+      trembled when she asked if the guerrillas were gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I didn’t see the finish, but those horrible yells were enough for me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ambrose hurried the three women over the rough rocks, down the cliff. The
+      cowboys below were saddling horses in haste. Evidently all the horses had
+      been brought out of hiding. Swiftly, with regard only for life and limb,
+      Madeline, Helen, and Christine were lowered by lassoes and half carried
+      down to the level. By the time they were safely down the other members of
+      the party appeared on the cliff above. They were in excellent spirits,
+      appearing to treat the matter as a huge joke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ambrose put Christine on a horse and rode away through the pines; Frankie
+      Slade did likewise with Helen. Stewart led Madeline’s horse up to her,
+      helped her to mount, and spoke one stern word, “Wait!” Then as fast as one
+      of the women reached the level she was put upon a horse and taken away by
+      a cowboy escort. Few words were spoken. Haste seemed to be the great
+      essential. The horses were urged, and, once in the trail, spurred and led
+      into a swift trot. One cowboy drove up four pack-horses, and these were
+      hurriedly loaded with the party’s baggage. Castleton and his companions
+      mounted, and galloped off to catch the others in the lead. This left
+      Madeline behind with Stewart and Nels and Monty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “They’re goin’ to switch off at the holler thet heads near the trail a few
+      miles down,” Nels was saying, as he tightened his saddle-girth. “Thet
+      holler heads into a big canyon. Once in thet, it’ll be every man fer
+      hisself. I reckon there won’t be anythin’ wuss than a rough ride.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels smiled reassuringly at Madeline, but he did not speak to her. Monty
+      took her canteen and filled it at the spring and hung it over the pommel
+      of her saddle. He put a couple of biscuits in the saddle-bag.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Don’t fergit to take a drink an’ a bite as you’re ridin’ along,” he said.
+      “An’ don’t worry, Miss Majesty. Stewart’ll be with you, an’ me an’ Nels
+      hangin’ on the back-trail.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His somber and sullen face did not change in its strange intensity, but
+      the look in his eyes Madeline felt she would never forget. Left alone with
+      these three men, now stripped of all pretense, she realized how fortune
+      had favored her and what peril still hung in the balance. Stewart swung
+      astride his big black, spurred him, and whistled. At the whistle Majesty
+      jumped, and with swift canter followed Stewart. Madeline looked back to
+      see Nels already up and Monty handing him a rifle. Then the pines hid her
+      view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once in the trail, Stewart’s horse broke into a gallop. Majesty changed
+      his gait and kept at the black’s heels. Stewart called back a warning. The
+      low, wide-spreading branches of trees might brush Madeline out of the
+      saddle. Fast riding through the forest along a crooked, obstructed trail
+      called forth all her alertness. Likewise the stirring of her blood, always
+      susceptible to the spirit and motion of a ride, let alone one of peril,
+      now began to throb and burn away the worry, the dread, the coldness that
+      had weighted her down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before long Stewart wheeled at right angles off the trail and entered a
+      hollow between two low bluffs. Madeline saw tracks in the open patches of
+      ground. Here Stewart’s horse took to a brisk walk. The hollow deepened,
+      narrowed, became rocky, full of logs and brush. Madeline exerted all her
+      keenness, and needed it, to keep close to Stewart. She did not think of
+      him, nor her own safety, but of keeping Majesty close in the tracks of the
+      black, of eluding the sharp spikes in the dead brush, of avoiding the
+      treacherous loose stones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Madeline was brought to a dead halt by Stewart and his horse
+      blocking the trail. Looking up, she saw they were at the head of a canyon
+      that yawned beneath and widened its gray-walled, green-patched slopes down
+      to a black forest of fir. The drab monotony of the foothills made contrast
+      below the forest, and away in the distance, rosy and smoky, lay the
+      desert. Retracting her gaze, Madeline saw pack-horses cross an open space
+      a mile below, and she thought she saw the stag-hounds. Stewart’s dark eyes
+      searched the slopes high up along the craggy escarpments. Then he put the
+      black to the descent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If there had been a trail left by the leading cowboys, Stewart did not
+      follow it. He led off to the right, zigzagging an intricate course through
+      the roughest ground Madeline had ever ridden over. He crashed through
+      cedars, threaded a tortuous way among boulders, made his horse slide down
+      slanting banks of soft earth, picked a slow and cautious progress across
+      weathered slopes of loose rock. Madeline followed, finding in this ride a
+      tax on strength and judgment. On an ordinary horse she never could have
+      kept in Stewart’s trail. It was dust and heat, a parching throat, that
+      caused Madeline to think of time; and she was amazed to see the sun
+      sloping to the west. Stewart never stopped; he never looked back; he never
+      spoke. He must have heard the horse close behind him. Madeline remembered
+      Monty’s advice about drinking and eating as she rode along. The worst of
+      that rough travel came at the bottom of the canyon. Dead cedars and brush
+      and logs were easy to pass compared with the miles, it seemed, of loose
+      boulders. The horses slipped and stumbled. Stewart proceeded here with
+      exceeding care. At last, when the canyon opened into a level forest of
+      firs, the sun was setting red in the west.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart quickened the gait of his horse. After a mile or so of easy travel
+      the ground again began to fall decidedly, sloping in numerous ridges, with
+      draws between. Soon night shadowed the deeper gullies. Madeline was
+      refreshed by the cooling of the air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart traveled slowly now. The barks of coyotes seemed to startle him.
+      Often he stopped to listen. And during one of those intervals the silence
+      was broken by sharp rifle-shots. Madeline could not tell whether they were
+      near or far, to right or left, behind or before. Evidently Stewart was
+      both alarmed and baffled. He dismounted. He went cautiously forward to
+      listen. Madeline fancied she heard a cry, low and far away. It was only
+      that of a coyote, she convinced herself, yet it was so wailing, so human,
+      that she shuddered. Stewart came back. He slipped the bridles of both
+      horses, and he led them. Every few paces he stopped to listen. He changed
+      his direction several times, and the last time he got among rough, rocky
+      ridges. The iron shoes of the horses cracked on the rocks. That sound must
+      have penetrated far into the forest. It perturbed Stewart, for he searched
+      for softer ground. Meanwhile the shadows merged into darkness. The stars
+      shone. The wind rose. Madeline believed hours passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart halted again. In the gloom Madeline discerned a log cabin, and
+      beyond it pear-pointed dark trees piercing the sky-line. She could just
+      make out Stewart’s tall form as he leaned against his horse. Either he was
+      listening or debating what to do—perhaps both. Presently he went
+      inside the cabin. Madeline heard the scratching of a match; then she saw a
+      faint light. The cabin appeared to be deserted. Probably it was one of the
+      many habitations belonging to prospectors and foresters who lived in the
+      mountains. Stewart came out again. He walked around the horses, out into
+      the gloom, then back to Madeline. For a long moment he stood as still as a
+      statue and listened. Then she heard him mutter, “If we have to start quick
+      I can ride bareback.” With that he took the saddle and blanket off his
+      horse and carried them into the cabin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Get off,” he said, in a low voice, as he stepped out of the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He helped her down and led her inside, where again he struck a match.
+      Madeline caught a glimpse of a rude fireplace and rough-hewn logs.
+      Stewart’s blanket and saddle lay on the hard-packed earthen floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Rest a little,” he said. “I’m going into the woods a piece to listen.
+      Gone only a minute or so.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had to feel round in the dark to locate the saddle and blanket.
+      When she lay down it was with a grateful sense of ease and relief. As her
+      body rested, however, her mind became the old thronging maze for sensation
+      and thought. All day she had attended to the alert business of helping her
+      horse. Now, what had already happened, the night, the silence, the
+      proximity of Stewart and his strange, stern caution, the possible
+      happenings to her friends—all claimed their due share of her
+      feeling. She went over them all with lightning swiftness of thought. She
+      believed, and she was sure Stewart believed, that her friends, owing to
+      their quicker start down the mountain, had not been headed off in their
+      travel by any of the things which had delayed Stewart. This conviction
+      lifted the suddenly returning dread from her breast; and as for herself,
+      somehow she had no fear. But she could not sleep; she did not try to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart’s soft steps sounded outside. His dark form loomed in the door. As
+      he sat down Madeline heard the thump of a gun that he laid beside him on
+      the sill; then the thump of another as he put that down, too. The sounds
+      thrilled her. Stewart’s wide shoulders filled the door; his finely shaped
+      head and strong, stern profile showed clearly in outline against the sky;
+      the wind waved his hair. He turned his ear to that wind and listened.
+      Motionless he sat for what to her seemed hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the stirring memory of the day’s adventure, the feeling of the beauty
+      of the night, and a strange, deep-seated, sweetly vague consciousness of
+      happiness portending, were all burned out in hot, pressing pain at the
+      remembrance of Stewart’s disgrace in her eyes. Something had changed
+      within her so that what had been anger at herself was sorrow for him. He
+      was such a splendid man. She could not feel the same; she knew her debt to
+      him, yet she could not thank him, could not speak to him. She fought an
+      unintelligible bitterness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she rested with closed eyes, and time seemed neither short nor long.
+      When Stewart called her she opened her eyes to see the gray of dawn. She
+      rose and stepped outside. The horses whinnied. In a moment she was in the
+      saddle, aware of cramped muscles and a weariness of limbs. Stewart led off
+      at a sharp trot into the fir forest. They came to a trail into which he
+      turned. The horses traveled steadily; the descent grew less steep; the
+      firs thinned out; the gray gloom brightened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Madeline rode out of the firs the sun had arisen and the foothills
+      rolled beneath her; and at their edge, where the gray of valley began, she
+      saw a dark patch that she knew was the ranch-house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0021">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XX. The Sheriff of El Cajon
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      About the middle of the forenoon of that day Madeline reached the ranch.
+      Her guests had all arrived there late the night before, and wanted only
+      her presence and the assurance of her well-being to consider the last of
+      the camping trip a rare adventure. Likewise, they voted it the cowboys’
+      masterpiece of a trick. Madeline’s delay, they averred, had been only a
+      clever coup to give a final effect. She did not correct their impression,
+      nor think it needful to state that she had been escorted home by only one
+      cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her guests reported an arduous ride down the mountain, with only one
+      incident to lend excitement. On the descent they had fallen in with
+      Sheriff Hawe and several of his deputies, who were considerably under the
+      influence of drink and very greatly enraged by the escape of the Mexican
+      girl Bonita. Hawe had used insulting language to the ladies and, according
+      to Ambrose, would have inconvenienced the party on some pretext or other
+      if he had not been sharply silenced by the cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s guests were two days in recovering from the hard ride. On the
+      third day they leisurely began to prepare for departure. This period was
+      doubly trying for Madeline. She had her own physical need of rest, and,
+      moreover, had to face a mental conflict that could scarcely be postponed
+      further. Her sister and friends were kindly and earnestly persistent in
+      their entreaties that she go back East with them. She desired to go. It
+      was not going that mattered; it was how and when and under what
+      circumstances she was to return that roused in her disturbing emotion.
+      Before she went East she wanted to have fixed in mind her future relation
+      to the ranch and the West. When the crucial hour arrived she found that
+      the West had not claimed her yet. These old friends had warmed cold ties.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It turned out, however, that there need be no hurry about making the
+      decision. Madeline would have welcomed any excuse to procrastinate; but,
+      as it happened, a letter from Alfred made her departure out of the
+      question for the present. He wrote that his trip to California had been
+      very profitable, that he had a proposition for Madeline from a large
+      cattle company, and, particularly, that he wanted to marry Florence soon
+      after his arrival home and would bring a minister from Douglas for that
+      purpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline went so far, however, as to promise Helen and her friends that
+      she would go East soon, at the very latest by Thanksgiving. With that
+      promise they were reluctantly content to say good-by to the ranch and to
+      her. At the last moment there seemed a great likelihood of a hitch in
+      plans for the first stage of that homeward journey. All of Madeline’s
+      guests held up their hands, Western fashion, when Link Stevens appeared
+      with the big white car. Link protested innocently, solemnly, that he would
+      drive slowly and safely; but it was necessary for Madeline to guarantee
+      Link’s word and to accompany them before they would enter the car. At the
+      station good-bys were spoken and repeated, and Madeline’s promise was
+      exacted for the hundredth time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy Coombs’s last words were: “Give my love to Monty Price. Tell him
+      I’m—I’m glad he kissed me!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen’s eyes had a sweet, grave, yet mocking light as she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Majesty, bring Stewart with you when you come. He’ll be the rage.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline treated the remark with the same merry lightness with which it
+      was received by the others; but after the train had pulled out and she was
+      on her way home she remembered Helen’s words and looks with something
+      almost amounting to a shock. Any mention of Stewart, any thought of him,
+      displeased her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What did Helen mean?” mused Madeline. And she pondered. That mocking
+      light in Helen’s eyes had been simply an ironical glint, a cynical gleam
+      from that worldly experience so suspicious and tolerant in its wisdom. The
+      sweet gravity of Helen’s look had been a deeper and more subtle thing.
+      Madeline wanted to understand it, to divine in it a new relation between
+      Helen and herself, something fine and sisterly that might lead to love.
+      The thought, however, revolving around a strange suggestion of Stewart,
+      was poisoned at its inception, and she dismissed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the drive in to the ranch, as she was passing the lower lake, she saw
+      Stewart walking listlessly along the shore. When he became aware of the
+      approach of the car he suddenly awakened from his aimless sauntering and
+      disappeared quickly in the shade of the shrubbery. This was not by any
+      means the first time Madeline had seen him avoid a possible meeting with
+      her. Somehow the act had pained her, though affording her a relief. She
+      did not want to meet him face to face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was annoying for her to guess that Stillwell had something to say in
+      Stewart’s defense. The old cattleman was evidently distressed. Several
+      times he had tried to open a conversation with Madeline relating to
+      Stewart; she had evaded him until the last time, when his persistence had
+      brought a cold and final refusal to hear another word about the foreman.
+      Stillwell had been crushed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As days passed Stewart remained at the ranch without his old faithfulness
+      to his work. Madeline was not moved to a kinder frame of mind to see him
+      wandering dejectedly around. It hurt her, and because it hurt her she grew
+      all the harder. Then she could not help hearing snatches of conversation
+      which strengthened her suspicions that Stewart was losing his grip on
+      himself, that he would soon take the downward course again. Verification
+      of her own suspicion made it a belief, and belief brought about a sharp
+      conflict between her generosity and some feeling that she could not name.
+      It was not a question of justice or mercy or sympathy. If a single word
+      could have saved Stewart from sinking his splendid manhood into the brute
+      she had recoiled from at Chiricahua, she would not have spoken it. She
+      could not restore him to his former place in her regard; she really did
+      not want him at the ranch at all. Once, considering in wonder her
+      knowledge of men, she interrogated herself to see just why she could not
+      overlook Stewart’s transgression. She never wanted to speak to him again,
+      or see him, or think of him. In some way, through her interest in Stewart,
+      she had come to feel for herself an inexplicable thing close to scorn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A telegram from Douglas, heralding the coming of Alfred and a minister,
+      put an end to Madeline’s brooding, and she shared something of Florence
+      Kingsley’s excitement. The cowboys were as eager and gossipy as girls. It
+      was arranged to have the wedding ceremony performed in Madeline’s great
+      hall-chamber, and the dinner in the cool, flower-scented patio.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred and his minister arrived at the ranch in the big white car. They
+      appeared considerably wind-blown. In fact, the minister was breathless,
+      almost sightless, and certainly hatless. Alfred, used as he was to wind
+      and speed, remarked that he did not wonder at Nels’s aversion to riding a
+      fleeting cannon-ball. The imperturbable Link took off his cap and goggles
+      and, consulting his watch, made his usual apologetic report to Madeline,
+      deploring the fact that a teamster and a few stray cattle on the road had
+      held him down to the manana time of only a mile a minute.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arrangements for the wedding brought Alfred’s delighted approval. When he
+      had learned all Florence and Madeline would tell him he expressed a desire
+      to have the cowboys attend; and then he went on to talk about California,
+      where he was going take Florence on a short trip. He was curiously
+      interested to find out all about Madeline’s guests and what had happened
+      to them. His keen glance at Madeline grew softer as she talked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I breathe again,” he said, and laughed. “I was afraid. Well, I must have
+      missed some sport. I can just fancy what Monty and Nels did to that
+      Englishman. So you went up to the crags. That’s a wild place. I’m not
+      surprised at guerrillas falling in with you up there. The crags were a
+      famous rendezvous for Apaches—it’s near the border—almost
+      inaccessible—good water and grass. I wonder what the U. S. cavalry
+      would think if they knew these guerrillas crossed the border right under
+      their noses. Well, it’s practically impossible to patrol some of that
+      border-line. It’s desert, mountain, and canyon, exceedingly wild and
+      broken. I’m sorry to say that there seems to be more trouble in sight with
+      these guerrillas than at any time heretofore. Orozco, the rebel leader,
+      has failed to withstand Madero’s army. The Federals are occupying
+      Chihuahua now, and are driving the rebels north. Orozco has broken up his
+      army into guerrilla bands. They are moving north and west, intending to
+      carry on guerrilla warfare in Sonora. I can’t say just how this will
+      affect us here. But we’re too close to the border for comfort. These
+      guerrillas are night-riding hawks; they can cross the border, raid us
+      here, and get back the same night. Fighting, I imagine, will not be
+      restricted to northern Mexico. With the revolution a failure the
+      guerrillas will be more numerous, bolder, and hungrier. Unfortunately, we
+      happen to be favorably situated for them down here in this wilderness
+      corner of the state.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On the following day Alfred and Florence were married. Florence’s sister
+      and several friends from El Cajon were present, besides Madeline,
+      Stillwell, and his men. It was Alfred’s express wish that Stewart attend
+      the ceremony. Madeline was amused when she noticed the painfully
+      suppressed excitement of the cowboys. For them a wedding must have been an
+      unusual and impressive event. She began to have a better understanding of
+      the nature of it when they cast off restraint and pressed forward to kiss
+      the bride. In all her life Madeline had never seen a bride kissed so much
+      and so heartily, nor one so flushed and disheveled and happy. This indeed
+      was a joyful occasion. There was nothing of the “effete East” about Alfred
+      Hammond; he might have been a Westerner all his days. When Madeline
+      managed to get through the press of cowboys to offer her congratulations
+      Alfred gave her a bear hug and a kiss. This appeared to fascinate the
+      cowboys. With shining eyes and faces aglow, with smiling, boyish boldness,
+      they made a rush at Madeline. For one instant her heart leaped to her
+      throat. They looked as if they could most shamelessly kiss and maul her.
+      That little, ugly-faced, soft-eyed, rude, tender-hearted ruffian, Monty
+      Price, was in the lead. He resembled a dragon actuated by sentiment. All
+      at once Madeline’s instinctive antagonism to being touched by strange
+      hands or lips battled with a real, warm, and fun-loving desire to let the
+      cowboys work their will with her. But she saw Stewart hanging at the back
+      of the crowd, and something—some fierce, dark expression of pain—amazed
+      her, while it froze her desire to be kind. Then she did not know what
+      change must have come to her face and bearing; but she saw Monty fall back
+      sheepishly and the other cowboys draw aside to let her lead the way into
+      the patio.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The dinner began quietly enough with the cowboys divided between
+      embarrassment and voracious appetites that they evidently feared to
+      indulge. Wine, however, loosened their tongues, and when Stillwell got up
+      to make the speech everybody seemed to expect of him they greeted him with
+      a roar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell was now one huge, mountainous smile. He was so happy that he
+      appeared on the verge of tears. He rambled on ecstatically till he came to
+      raise his glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “An’ now, girls an’ boys, let’s all drink to the bride an’ groom; to their
+      sincere an’ lastin’ love; to their happiness an’ prosperity; to their good
+      health an’ long life. Let’s drink to the unitin’ of the East with the
+      West. No man full of red blood an’ the real breath of life could resist a
+      Western girl an’ a good hoss an’ God’s free hand—that open country
+      out there. So we claim Al Hammond, an’ may we be true to him. An’,
+      friends, I think it fittin’ that we drink to his sister an’ to our hopes.
+      Heah’s to the lady we hope to make our Majesty! Heah’s to the man who’ll
+      come ridin’ out of the West, a fine, big-hearted man with a fast hoss an’
+      a strong rope, an’ may he win an’ hold her! Come, friends, drink.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A heavy pound of horses’ hoofs and a yell outside arrested Stillwell’s
+      voice and halted his hand in midair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The patio became as silent as an unoccupied room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through the open doors and windows of Madeline’s chamber burst the sounds
+      of horses stamping to a halt, then harsh speech of men, and a low cry of a
+      woman in pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rapid steps crossed the porch, entered Madeline’s room. Nels appeared in
+      the doorway. Madeline was surprised to see that he had not been at the
+      dinner-table. She was disturbed at sight of his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart, you’re wanted outdoors,” called Nels, bluntly. “Monty, you slope
+      out here with me. You, Nick, an’ Stillwell—I reckon the rest of you
+      hed better shut the doors an’ stay inside.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels disappeared. Quick as a cat Monty glided out. Madeline heard his
+      soft, swift steps pass from her room into her office. He had left his guns
+      there. Madeline trembled. She saw Stewart get up quietly and without any
+      change of expression on his dark, sad face leave the patio. Nick Steele
+      followed him. Stillwell dropped his wine-glass. As it broke, shivering the
+      silence, his huge smile vanished. His face set into the old cragginess and
+      the red slowly thickened into black. Stillwell went out and closed the
+      door behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then there was a blank silence. The enjoyment of the moment had been
+      rudely disrupted. Madeline glanced down the lines of brown faces to see
+      the pleasure fade into the old familiar hardness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What’s wrong?” asked Alfred, rather stupidly. The change of mood had been
+      too rapid for him. Suddenly he awakened, thoroughly aroused at the
+      interruption. “I’m going to see who’s butted in here to spoil our dinner,”
+       he said, and strode out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He returned before any one at the table had spoken or moved, and now the
+      dull red of anger mottled his forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It’s the sheriff of El Cajon!” he exclaimed, contemptuously. “Pat Hawe
+      with some of his tough deputies come to arrest Gene Stewart. They’ve got
+      that poor little Mexican girl out there tied on a horse. Confound that
+      sheriff!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline calmly rose from the table, eluding Florence’s entreating hand,
+      and started for the door. The cowboys jumped up. Alfred barred her
+      progress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Alfred, I am going out,” she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No, I guess not,” he replied. “That’s no place for you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am going.” She looked straight at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Madeline! Why, what is it? You look—Dear, there’s pretty sure to be
+      trouble outside. Maybe there’ll be a fight. You can do nothing. You must
+      not go.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Perhaps I can prevent trouble,” she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she left the patio she was aware that Alfred, with Florence at his side
+      and the cowboys behind, were starting to follow her. When she got out of
+      her room upon the porch she heard several men in loud, angry discussion.
+      Then, at sight of Bonita helplessly and cruelly bound upon a horse, pale
+      and disheveled and suffering, Madeline experienced the thrill that sight
+      or mention of this girl always gave her. It yielded to a hot pang in her
+      breast—that live pain which so shamed her. But almost instantly, as
+      a second glance showed an agony in Bonita’s face, her bruised arms where
+      the rope bit deep into the flesh, her little brown hands stained with
+      blood, Madeline was overcome by pity for the unfortunate girl and a
+      woman’s righteous passion at such barbarous treatment of one of her own
+      sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man holding the bridle of the horse on which Bonita had been bound was
+      at once recognized by Madeline as the big-bodied, bullet-headed guerrilla
+      who had found the basket of wine in the spring at camp. Redder of face,
+      blacker of beard, coarser of aspect, evidently under the influence of
+      liquor, he was as fierce-looking as a gorilla and as repulsive. Besides
+      him there were three other men present, all mounted on weary horses. The
+      one in the foreground, gaunt, sharp-featured, red-eyed, with a pointed
+      beard, she recognized as the sheriff of El Cajon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline hesitated, then stopped in the middle of the porch. Alfred,
+      Florence, and several others followed her out; the rest of the cowboys and
+      guests crowded the windows and doors. Stillwell saw Madeline, and,
+      throwing up his hands, roared to be heard. This quieted the gesticulating,
+      quarreling men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal now, Pat Hawe, what’s drivin’ you like a locoed steer on the
+      rampage?” demanded Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Keep in the traces, Bill,” replied Hawe. “You savvy what I come fer. I’ve
+      been bidin’ my time. But I’m ready now. I’m hyar to arrest a criminal.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The huge frame of the old cattleman jerked as if he had been stabbed. His
+      face turned purple.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “What criminal?” he shouted, hoarsely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sheriff flicked his quirt against his dirty boot, and he twisted his
+      thin lips into a leer. The situation was agreeable to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why, Bill, I knowed you hed a no-good outfit ridin’ this range; but I
+      wasn’t wise thet you hed more ’n one criminal.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Cut that talk! Which cowboy are you wantin’ to arrest?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hawe’s manner altered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene Stewart,” he replied, curtly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “On what charge?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Fer killin’ a Greaser one night last fall.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “So you’re still harpin’ on that? Pat, you’re on the wrong trail. You
+      can’t lay that killin’ onto Stewart. The thing’s ancient by now. But if
+      you insist on bringin’ him to court, let the arrest go to-day—we’re
+      hevin’ some fiesta hyar—an’ I’ll fetch Gene in to El Cajon.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nope. I reckon I’ll take him when I got the chance, before he slopes.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m givin’ you my word,” thundered Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon I don’t hev to take your word, Bill, or anybody else’s.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell’s great bulk quivered with his rage, yet he made a successful
+      effort to control it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “See hyar, Pat Hawe, I know what’s reasonable. Law is law. But in this
+      country there always has been an’ is now a safe an’ sane way to proceed
+      with the law. Mebbe you’ve forgot that. The law as invested in one man in
+      a wild country is liable, owin’ to that man’s weaknesses an’ onlimited
+      authority, to be disputed even by a decent ole cattleman like myself. I’m
+      a-goin’ to give you a hunch. Pat, you’re not overliked in these parts.
+      You’ve rid too much with a high hand. Some of your deals hev been shady,
+      an’ don’t you overlook what I’m sayin’. But you’re the sheriff, an’ I’m
+      respectin’ your office. I’m respectin’ it this much. If the milk of human
+      decency is so soured in your breast that you can’t hev a kind feelin’,
+      then try to avoid the onpleasantness that’ll result from any contrary move
+      on your part to-day. Do you get that hunch?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stillwell, you’re threatenin’ an officer,” replied Hawe, angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Will you hit the trail quick out of hyar?” queried Stillwell, in strained
+      voice. “I guarantee Stewart’s appearance in El Cajon any day you say.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No. I come to arrest him, an’ I’m goin’ to.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “So that’s your game!” shouted Stillwell. “We-all are glad to get you
+      straight, Pat. Now listen, you cheap, red-eyed coyote of a sheriff! You
+      don’t care how many enemies you make. You know you’ll never get office
+      again in this county. What do you care now? It’s amazin’ strange how
+      earnest you are to hunt down the man who killed that particular Greaser. I
+      reckon there’s been some dozen or more killin’s of Greasers in the last
+      year. Why don’t you take to trailin’ some of them killin’s? I’ll tell you
+      why. You’re afraid to go near the border. An’ your hate of Gene Stewart
+      makes you want to hound him an’ put him where he’s never been yet—in
+      jail. You want to spite his friends. Wal, listen, you lean-jawed,
+      skunk-bitten coyote! Go ahead an’ try to arrest him!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell took one mighty stride off the porch. His last words had been
+      cold. His rage appeared to have been transferred to Hawe. The sheriff had
+      begun to stutter and shake a lanky red hand at the cattleman when Stewart
+      stepped out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Here, you fellows, give me a chance to say a word.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As Stewart appeared the Mexican girl suddenly seemed vitalized out of her
+      stupor. She strained at her bonds, as if to lift her hands beseechingly. A
+      flush animated her haggard face, and her big dark eyes lighted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senor Gene!” she moaned. “Help me! I so seek. They beat me, rope me,
+      ‘mos’ keel me. Oh, help me, Senor Gene!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shut up, er I’ll gag you,” said the man who held Bonita’s horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Muzzle her, Sneed, if she blabs again,” called Hawe. Madeline felt
+      something tense and strained working in the short silence. Was it only a
+      phase of her thrilling excitement? Her swift glance showed the faces of
+      Nels and Monty and Nick to be brooding, cold, watchful. She wondered why
+      Stewart did not look toward Bonita. He, too, was now dark-faced, cool,
+      quiet, with something ominous about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hawe, I’ll submit to arrest without any fuss,” he said, slowly, “if
+      you’ll take the ropes off that girl.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nope,” replied the sheriff. “She got away from me onct. She’s hawg-tied
+      now, an’ she’ll stay hawg-tied.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline thought she saw Stewart give a slight start. But an unaccountable
+      dimness came over her eyes, at brief intervals obscuring her keen sight.
+      Vaguely she was conscious of a clogged and beating tumult in her breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “All right, let’s hurry out of here,” said Stewart. “You’ve made annoyance
+      enough. Ride down to the corral with me. I’ll get my horse and go with
+      you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hold on!” yelled Hawe, as Stewart turned away. “Not so fast. Who’s doin’
+      this? You don’t come no El Capitan stunts on me. You’ll ride one of my
+      pack-horses, an’ you’ll go in irons.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “You want to handcuff me?” queried Stewart, with sudden swift start of
+      passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Want to? Haw, haw! Nope, Stewart, thet’s jest my way with hoss-thieves,
+      raiders, Greasers, murderers, an’ sich. See hyar, you Sneed, git off an’
+      put the irons on this man.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The guerrilla called Sneed slid off his horse and began to fumble in his
+      saddle-bags.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You see, Bill,” went on Hawe, “I swore in a new depooty fer this
+      particular job. Sneed is some handy. He rounded up thet little Mexican cat
+      fer me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell did not hear the sheriff; he was gazing at Stewart in a kind of
+      imploring amaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene, you ain’t goin’ to stand fer them handcuffs?” he pleaded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” replied the cowboy. “Bill, old friend, I’m an outsider here.
+      There’s no call for Miss Hammond and—and her brother and Florence to
+      be worried further about me. Their happy day has already been spoiled on
+      my account. I want to get out quick.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, you might be too damn considerate of Miss Hammond’s sensitive
+      feelin’s.” There was now no trace of the courteous, kindly old rancher. He
+      looked harder than stone. “How about my feelin’s? I want to know if you’re
+      goin’ to let this sneakin’ coyote, this last gasp of the old rum-guzzlin’
+      frontier sheriffs, put you in irons an’ hawg-tie you an’ drive you off to
+      jail?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” replied Stewart, steadily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, by Gawd! You, Gene Stewart! What’s come over you? Why, man, go in
+      the house, an’ I’ll ’tend to this feller. Then to-morrow you can ride in
+      an’ give yourself up like a gentleman.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No. I’ll go. Thanks, Bill, for the way you and the boys would stick to
+      me. Hurry, Hawe, before my mind changes.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice broke at the last, betraying the wonderful control he had kept
+      over his passions. As he ceased speaking he seemed suddenly to become
+      spiritless. He dropped his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw in him then a semblance to the hopeless, shamed Stewart of
+      earlier days. The vague riot in her breast leaped into conscious fury—a
+      woman’s passionate repudiation of Stewart’s broken spirit. It was not that
+      she would have him be a lawbreaker; it was that she could not bear to see
+      him deny his manhood. Once she had entreated him to become her kind of a
+      cowboy—a man in whom reason tempered passion. She had let him see
+      how painful and shocking any violence was to her. And the idea had
+      obsessed him, softened him, had grown like a stultifying lichen upon his
+      will, had shorn him of a wild, bold spirit she now strangely longed to see
+      him feel. When the man Sneed came forward, jingling the iron fetters,
+      Madeline’s blood turned to fire. She would have forgiven Stewart then for
+      lapsing into the kind of cowboy it had been her blind and sickly sentiment
+      to abhor. This was a man’s West—a man’s game. What right had a woman
+      reared in a softer mold to use her beauty and her influence to change a
+      man who was bold and free and strong? At that moment, with her blood hot
+      and racing, she would have gloried in the violence which she had so
+      deplored: she would have welcomed the action that had characterized
+      Stewart’s treatment of Don Carlos; she had in her the sudden dawning
+      temper of a woman who had been assimilating the life and nature around her
+      and who would not have turned her eyes away from a harsh and bloody deed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Stewart held forth his hands to be manacled. Then Madeline heard her
+      own voice burst out in a ringing, imperious “Wait!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the time it took her to make the few steps to the edge of the porch,
+      facing the men, she not only felt her anger and justice and pride
+      summoning forces to her command, but there was something else calling—a
+      deep, passionate, mysterious thing not born of the moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sneed dropped the manacles. Stewart’s face took on a chalky whiteness.
+      Hawe, in a slow, stupid embarrassment beyond his control, removed his
+      sombrero in a respect that seemed wrenched from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mr. Hawe, I can prove to you that Stewart was not concerned in any way
+      whatever with the crime for which you want to arrest him.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sheriff’s stare underwent a blinking change. He coughed, stammered,
+      and tried to speak. Manifestly, he had been thrown completely off his
+      balance. Astonishment slowly merged into discomfiture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It was absolutely impossible for Stewart to have been connected with that
+      assault,” went on Madeline, swiftly, “for he was with me in the
+      waiting-room of the station at the moment the assault was made outside. I
+      assure you I have a distinct and vivid recollection. The door was open. I
+      heard the voices of quarreling men. They grew louder. The language was
+      Spanish. Evidently these men had left the dance-hall opposite and were
+      approaching the station. I heard a woman’s voice mingling with the others.
+      It, too, was Spanish, and I could not understand. But the tone was
+      beseeching. Then I heard footsteps on the gravel. I knew Stewart heard
+      them. I could see from his face that something dreadful was about to
+      happen. Just outside the door then there were hoarse, furious voices, a
+      scuffle, a muffled shot, a woman’s cry, the thud of a falling body, and
+      rapid footsteps of a man running away. Next, the girl Bonita staggered
+      into the door. She was white, trembling, terror-stricken. She recognized
+      Stewart, appealed to him. Stewart supported her and endeavored to calm
+      her. He was excited. He asked her if Danny Mains had been shot, or if he
+      had done the shooting. The girl said no. She told Stewart that she had
+      danced a little, flirted a little with vaqueros, and they had quarreled
+      over her. Then Stewart took her outside and put her upon his horse. I saw
+      the girl ride that horse down the street to disappear in the darkness.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While Madeline spoke another change appeared to be working in the man
+      Hawe. He was not long disconcerted, but his discomfiture wore to a sullen
+      fury, and his sharp features fixed in an expression of craft.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thet’s mighty interestin’, Miss Hammond, ‘most as interestin’ as a
+      story-book,” he said. “Now, since you’re so obligin’ a witness, I’d sure
+      like to put a question or two. What time did you arrive at El Cajon thet
+      night?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “It was after eleven o’clock,” replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nobody there to meet you?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “The station agent an’ operator both gone?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, how soon did this feller Stewart show up?” Hawe continued, with a
+      wry smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Very soon after my arrival. I think—perhaps fifteen minutes,
+      possibly a little more.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Some dark an’ lonesome around thet station, wasn’t it?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Indeed yes.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “An’ what time was the Greaser shot?” queried Hawe, with his little eyes
+      gleaming like coals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Probably close to half past one. It was two o’clock when I looked at my
+      watch at Florence Kingsley’s house. Directly after Stewart sent Bonita
+      away he took me to Miss Kingsley’s. So, allowing for the walk and a few
+      minutes’ conversation with her, I can pretty definitely say the shooting
+      took place at about half past one.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell heaved his big frame a step closer to the sheriff. “What ‘re you
+      drivin’ at?” he roared, his face black again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Evidence,” snapped Hawe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline marveled at this interruption; and as Stewart irresistibly drew
+      her glance she saw him gray-faced as ashes, shaking, utterly unnerved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I thank you, Miss Hammond,” he said, huskily. “But you needn’t answer any
+      more of Hawe’s questions. He’s—he’s—It’s not necessary. I’ll
+      go with him now, under arrest. Bonita will corroborate your testimony in
+      court, and that will save me from this—this man’s spite.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, looking at Stewart, seeing a humility she at first took for
+      cowardice, suddenly divined that it was not fear for himself which made
+      him dread further disclosures of that night, but fear for her—fear
+      of shame she might suffer through him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Pat Hawe cocked his head to one side, like a vulture about to strike with
+      his beak, and cunningly eyed Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Considered as testimony, what you’ve said is sure important an’
+      conclusive. But I’m calculatin’ thet the court will want to hev explained
+      why you stayed from eleven-thirty till one-thirty in thet waitin’-room
+      alone with Stewart.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His deliberate speech met with what Madeline imagined a remarkable
+      reception from Stewart, who gave a tigerish start; from Stillwell, whose
+      big hands tore at the neck of his shirt, as if he was choking; from
+      Alfred, who now strode hotly forward, to be stopped by the cold and silent
+      Nels; from Monty Price, who uttered a violent “Aw!” which was both a hiss
+      and a roar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the rush of her thought Madeline could not interpret the meaning of
+      these things which seemed so strange at that moment. But they were
+      portentous. Even as she was forming a reply to Hawe’s speech she felt a
+      chill creep over her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart detained me in the waiting-room,” she said, clear-voiced as a
+      bell. “But we were not alone—all the time.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment the only sound following her words was a gasp from Stewart.
+      Hawe’s face became transformed with a hideous amaze and joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Detained?” he whispered, craning his lean and corded neck. “How’s thet?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart was drunk. He—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With sudden passionate gesture of despair Stewart appealed to her:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, Miss Hammond, don’t! don’t! DON’T!...”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he seemed to sink down, head lowered upon his breast, in utter shame.
+      Stillwell’s great hand swept to the bowed shoulder, and he turned to
+      Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, I reckon you’d be wise to tell all,” said the old
+      cattleman, gravely. “There ain’t one of us who could misunderstand any
+      motive or act of yours. Mebbe a stroke of lightnin’ might clear this murky
+      air. Whatever Gene Stewart did that onlucky night—you tell it.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s dignity and self-possession had been disturbed by Stewart’s
+      importunity. She broke into swift, disconnected speech:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “He came into the station—a few minutes after I got there. I
+      asked-to be shown to a hotel. He said there wasn’t any that would
+      accommodate married women. He grasped my hand—looked for a
+      wedding-ring. Then I saw he was—he was intoxicated. He told me he
+      would go for a hotel porter. But he came back with a padre—Padre
+      Marcos. The poor priest was—terribly frightened. So was I. Stewart
+      had turned into a devil. He fired his gun at the padre’s feet. He pushed
+      me into a bench. Again he shot—right before my face. I—I
+      nearly fainted. But I heard him cursing the padre—heard the padre
+      praying or chanting—I didn’t know what. Stewart tried to make me say
+      things in Spanish. All at once he asked my name. I told him. He jerked at
+      my veil. I took it off. Then he threw his gun down—pushed the padre
+      out of the door. That was just before the vaqueros approached with Bonita.
+      Padre Marcos must have seen them—must have heard them. After that
+      Stewart grew quickly sober. He was mortified—distressed—stricken
+      with shame. He told me he had been drinking at a wedding—I remember,
+      it was Ed Linton’s wedding. Then he explained—the boys were always
+      gambling—he wagered he would marry the first girl who arrived at El
+      Cajon. I happened to be the first one. He tried to force me to marry him.
+      The rest—relating to the assault on the vaquero—I have already
+      told you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline ended, out of breath and panting, with her hands pressed upon her
+      heaving bosom. Revelation of that secret liberated emotion; those hurried
+      outspoken words had made her throb and tremble and burn. Strangely then
+      she thought of Alfred and his wrath. But he stood motionless, as if dazed.
+      Stillwell was trying to holster up the crushed Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hawe rolled his red eyes and threw back his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho, ho! Say, Sneed, you didn’t miss any of it, did ye?
+      Haw, haw! Best I ever heerd in all my born days. Ho, ho!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he ceased laughing, and with glinting gaze upon Madeline, insolent
+      and vicious and savage, he began to drawl:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal now, my lady, I reckon your story, if it tallies with Bonita’s an’
+      Padre Marcos’s, will clear Gene Stewart in the eyes of the court.” Here he
+      grew slower, more biting, sharper and harder of face. “But you needn’t
+      expect Pat Hawe or the court to swaller thet part of your story—about
+      bein’ detained unwillin’!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had not time to grasp the sense of his last words. Stewart had
+      convulsively sprung upward, white as chalk. As he leaped at Hawe Stillwell
+      interposed his huge bulk and wrapped his arms around Stewart. There was a
+      brief, whirling, wrestling struggle. Stewart appeared to be besting the
+      old cattleman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Help, boys, help!” yelled Stillwell. “I can’t hold him. Hurry, or there’s
+      goin’ to be blood spilled!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nick Steele and several cowboys leaped to Stillwell’s assistance. Stewart,
+      getting free, tossed one aside and then another. They closed in on him.
+      For an instant a furious straining wrestle of powerful bodies made rasp
+      and shock and blow. Once Stewart heaved them from him. But they plunged
+      back upon him—conquered him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene! Why, Gene!” panted the old cattleman. “Sure you’re locoed—to
+      act this way. Cool down! Cool down! Why, boy, it’s all right. Jest stand
+      still—give us a chance to talk to you. It’s only ole Bill, you know—your
+      ole pal who’s tried to be a daddy to you. He’s only wantin’ you to hev
+      sense—to be cool—to wait.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Let me go! Let me go!” cried Stewart; and the poignancy of that cry
+      pierced Madeline’s heart. “Let me go, Bill, if you’re my friend. I saved
+      your life once—over in the desert. You swore you’d never forget.
+      Boys, make him let me go! Oh, I don’t care what Hawe’s said or done to me!
+      It was that about her! Are you all a lot of Greasers? How can you stand
+      it? Damn you for a lot of cowards! There’s a limit, I tell you.” Then his
+      voice broke, fell to a whisper. “Bill, dear old Bill, let me go. I’ll kill
+      him! You know I’ll kill him!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Gene, I know you’d kill him if you hed an even break,” replied Stillwell,
+      soothingly. “But, Gene, why, you ain’t even packin’ a gun! An’ there’s Pat
+      lookin’ nasty, with his hand nervous-like. He seen you hed no gun. He’d
+      jump at the chance to plug you now, an’ then holler about opposition to
+      the law. Cool down, son; it’ll all come right.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Madeline was transfixed by a terrible sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her startled glance shifted from the anxious group round Stewart to see
+      that Monty Price had leaped off the porch. He crouched down with his bands
+      below his hips, where the big guns swung. From his distorted lips issued
+      that which was combined roar and bellow and Indian war-whoop, and, more
+      than all, a horrible warning cry. He resembled a hunchback about to make
+      the leap of a demon. He was quivering, vibrating. His eyes, black and hot,
+      were fastened with most piercing intentness upon Hawe and Sneed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Git back, Bill, git back!” he roared. “Git ’em back!” With one lunge
+      Stillwell shoved Stewart and Nick and the other cowboys up on the porch.
+      Then he crowded Madeline and Alfred and Florence to the wall, tried to
+      force them farther. His motions were rapid and stern. But failing to get
+      them through door and windows, he planted his wide person between the
+      women and danger. Madeline grasped his arm, held on, and peered fearfully
+      from behind his broad shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You, Hawe! You, Sneed!” called Monty, in that same wild voice. “Don’t you
+      move a finger or an eyelash!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s faculties nerved to keen, thrilling divination. She grasped the
+      relation between Monty’s terrible cry and the strange hunched posture he
+      had assumed. Stillwell’s haste and silence, too, were pregnant of
+      catastrophe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, git in this!” yelled Monty; and all the time he never shifted his
+      intent gaze as much as a hair’s-breadth from Hawe and his deputy. “Nels,
+      chase away them two fellers hangin’ back there. Chase ’em, quick!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These men, the two deputies who had remained in the background with the
+      pack-horses, did not wait for Nels. They spurred their mounts, wheeled,
+      and galloped away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Now, Nels, cut the gurl loose,” ordered Monty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels ran forward, jerked the halter out of Sneed’s hand, and pulled
+      Bonita’s horse in close to the porch. As he slit the rope which bound her
+      she fell into his arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hawe, git down!” went on Monty. “Face front an’ stiff!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sheriff swung his leg, and, never moving his hands, with his face now
+      a deathly, sickening white, he slid to the ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Line up there beside your guerrilla pard. There! You two make a damn fine
+      pictoor, a damn fine team of pizened coyote an’ a cross between a wild
+      mule an’ a Greaser. Now listen!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty made a long pause, in which his breathing was plainly audible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s eyes were riveted upon Monty. Her mind, swift as lightning, had
+      gathered the subtleties in action and word succeeding his domination of
+      the men. Violence, terrible violence, the thing she had felt, the thing
+      she had feared, the thing she had sought to eliminate from among her
+      cowboys, was, after many months, about to be enacted before her eyes. It
+      had come at last. She had softened Stillwell, she had influenced Nels, she
+      had changed Stewart; but this little black-faced, terrible Monty Price now
+      rose, as it were, out of his past wild years, and no power on earth or in
+      heaven could stay his hand. It was the hard life of wild men in a wild
+      country that was about to strike this blow at her. She did not shudder;
+      she did not wish to blot out from sight this little man, terrible in his
+      mood of wild justice. She suffered a flash of horror that Monty, blind and
+      dead to her authority, cold as steel toward her presence, understood the
+      deeps of a woman’s soul. For in this moment of strife, of insult to her,
+      of torture to the man she had uplifted and then broken, the passion of her
+      reached deep toward primitive hate. With eyes slowly hazing red, she
+      watched Monty Price; she listened with thrumming ears; she waited, slowly
+      sagging against Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hawe, if you an’ your dirty pard hev loved the sound of human voice, then
+      listen an’ listen hard,” said Monty. “Fer I’ve been goin’ contrary to my
+      ole style jest to hev a talk with you. You all but got away on your nerve,
+      didn’t you? ‘Cause why? You roll in here like a mad steer an’ flash yer
+      badge an’ talk mean, then almost bluff away with it. You heerd all about
+      Miss Hammond’s cowboy outfit stoppin’ drinkin’ an’ cussin’ an’ packin’
+      guns. They’ve took on religion an’ decent livin’, an’ sure they’ll be easy
+      to hobble an’ drive to jail. Hawe, listen. There was a good an’ noble an
+      be-ootiful woman come out of the East somewheres, an’ she brought a lot of
+      sunshine an’ happiness an’ new idees into the tough lives of cowboys. I
+      reckon it’s beyond you to know what she come to mean to them. Wal, I’ll
+      tell you. They-all went clean out of their heads. They-all got soft an’
+      easy an’ sweet-tempered. They got so they couldn’t kill a coyote, a
+      crippled calf in a mud-hole. They took to books, an’ writin’ home to
+      mother an’ sister, an’ to savin’ money, an’ to gittin’ married. Onct they
+      was only a lot of poor cowboys, an’ then sudden-like they was human
+      bein’s, livin’ in a big world thet hed somethin’ sweet even fer them. Even
+      fer me—an ole, worn-out, hobble-legged, burned-up cowman like me! Do
+      you git thet? An’ you, Mister Hawe, you come along, not satisfied with
+      ropin’ an’ beatin’, an’ Gaw knows what else, of thet friendless little
+      Bonita; you come along an’ face the lady we fellers honor an’ love an’
+      reverence, an’ you—you—Hell’s fire!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With whistling breath, foaming at the mouth, Monty Price crouched lower,
+      hands at his hips, and he edged inch by inch farther out from the porch,
+      closer to Hawe and Sneed. Madeline saw them only in the blurred fringe of
+      her sight. They resembled specters. She heard the shrill whistle of a
+      horse and recognized Majesty calling her from the corral.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thet’s all!” roared Monty, in a voice now strangling. Lower and lower he
+      bent, a terrible figure of ferocity. “Now, both you armed ocifers of the
+      law, come on! Flash your guns! Throw ’em, an’ be quick! Monty Price is
+      done! There’ll be daylight through you both before you fan a hammer! But
+      I’m givin’ you a chanst to sting me. You holler law, an’ my way is the ole
+      law.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His breath came quicker, his voice grew hoarser, and he crouched lower.
+      All his body except his rigid arms quivered with a wonderful muscular
+      convulsion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Dogs! Skunks! Buzzards! Flash them guns, er I’ll flash mine! Aha!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To Madeline it seemed the three stiff, crouching men leaped into instant
+      and united action. She saw streaks of fire—streaks of smoke. Then a
+      crashing volley deafened her. It ceased as quickly. Smoke veiled the
+      scene. Slowly it drifted away to disclose three fallen men, one of whom,
+      Monty, leaned on his left hand, a smoking gun in his right. He watched for
+      a movement from the other two. It did not come. Then, with a terrible
+      smile, he slid back and stretched out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XXI. Unbridled
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      In waking and sleeping hours Madeline Hammond could not release herself
+      from the thralling memory of that tragedy. She was haunted by Monty
+      Price’s terrible smile. Only in action of some kind could she escape; and
+      to that end she worked, she walked and rode. She even overcame a strong
+      feeling, which she feared was unreasonable disgust, for the Mexican girl
+      Bonita, who lay ill at the ranch, bruised and feverish, in need of skilful
+      nursing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline felt there was something inscrutable changing her soul. That
+      strife—the struggle to decide her destiny for East or West—held
+      still further aloof. She was never spiritually alone. There was a step on
+      her trail. Indoors she was oppressed. She required the open—the
+      light and wind, the sight of endless slope, the sounds of corral and pond
+      and field, physical things, natural things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One afternoon she rode down to the alfalfa-fields, round them, and back up
+      to the spillway of the lower lake, where a group of mesquite-trees, owing
+      to the water that seeped through the sand to their roots, had taken on
+      bloom and beauty of renewed life. Under these trees there was shade enough
+      to make a pleasant place to linger. Madeline dismounted, desiring to rest
+      a little. She liked this quiet, lonely spot. It was really the only
+      secluded nook near the house. If she rode down into the valley or out to
+      the mesa or up on the foothills she could not go alone. Probably now
+      Stillwell or Nels knew her whereabouts. But as she was comparatively
+      hidden here, she imagined a solitude that was not actually hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her horse, Majesty, tossed his head and flung his mane and switched his
+      tail at the flies. He would rather have been cutting the wind down the
+      valley slope. Madeline sat with her back against a tree, and took off her
+      sombrero. The soft breeze, fanning her hot face, blowing strands of her
+      hair, was refreshingly cool. She heard the slow tramp of cattle going in
+      to drink. That sound ceased, and the grove of mesquites appeared to be
+      lifeless, except for her and her horse. It was, however, only after
+      moments of attention that she found the place was far from being dead.
+      Keen eyes and ears brought reward. Desert quail, as gray as the bare
+      earth, were dusting themselves in a shady spot. A bee, swift as light,
+      hummed by. She saw a horned toad, the color of stone, squatting low,
+      hiding fearfully in the sand within reach of her whip. She extended the
+      point of the whip, and the toad quivered and swelled and hissed. It was
+      instinct with fight. The wind faintly stirred the thin foliage of the
+      mesquites, making a mournful sigh. From far up in the foothills, barely
+      distinguishable, came the scream of an eagle. The bray of a burro brought
+      a brief, discordant break. Then a brown bird darted down from an unseen
+      perch and made a swift, irregular flight after a fluttering winged insect.
+      Madeline heard the sharp snapping of a merciless beak. Indeed, there was
+      more than life in the shade of the mesquites.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Majesty picked up his long ears and snorted. Then Madeline heard
+      a slow pad of hoofs. A horse was approaching from the direction of the
+      lake. Madeline had learned to be wary, and, mounting Majesty, she turned
+      him toward the open. A moment later she felt glad of her caution, for,
+      looking back between the trees, she saw Stewart leading a horse into the
+      grove. She would as lief have met a guerrilla as this cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Majesty had broken into a trot when a shrill whistle rent the air. The
+      horse leaped and, wheeling so swiftly that he nearly unseated Madeline, he
+      charged back straight for the mesquites. Madeline spoke to him, cried
+      angrily at him, pulled with all her strength upon the bridle, but was
+      helplessly unable to stop him. He whistled a piercing blast. Madeline
+      realized then that Stewart, his old master, had called him and that
+      nothing could turn him. She gave up trying, and attended to the urgent
+      need of intercepting mesquite boughs that Majesty thrashed into motion.
+      The horse thumped into an aisle between the trees and, stopping before
+      Stewart, whinnied eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, not knowing what to expect, had not time for any feeling but
+      amaze. A quick glance showed her Stewart in rough garb, dressed for the
+      trail, and leading a wiry horse, saddled and packed. When Stewart, without
+      looking at her, put his arm around Majesty’s neck and laid his face
+      against the flowing mane Madeline’s heart suddenly began to beat with
+      unwonted quickness. Stewart seemed oblivious to her presence. His eyes
+      were closed. His dark face softened, lost its hardness and fierceness and
+      sadness, and for an instant became beautiful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline instantly divined what his action meant. He was leaving the
+      ranch; this was his good-by to his horse. How strange, sad, fine was this
+      love between man and beast! A dimness confused Madeline’s eyes; she
+      hurriedly brushed it away, and it came back wet and blurring. She averted
+      her face, ashamed of the tears Stewart might see. She was sorry for him.
+      He was going away, and this time, judging from the nature of his farewell
+      to his horse, it was to be forever. Like a stab from a cold blade a pain
+      shot through Madeline’s heart. The wonder of it, the incomprehensibility
+      of it, the utter newness and strangeness of this sharp pain that now left
+      behind a dull pang, made her forget Stewart, her surroundings, everything
+      except to search her heart. Maybe here was the secret that had eluded her.
+      She trembled on the brink of something unknown. In some strange way the
+      emotion brought back her girlhood. Her mind revolved swift queries and
+      replies; she was living, feeling, learning; happiness mocked at her from
+      behind a barred door, and the bar of that door seemed to be an
+      inexplicable pain. Then like lightning strokes shot the questions: Why
+      should pain hide her happiness? What was her happiness? What relation had
+      it to this man? Why should she feel strangely about his departure? And the
+      voices within her were silenced, stunned, unanswered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I want to talk to you,” said Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline started, turned to him, and now she saw the earlier Stewart, the
+      man who reminded her of their first meeting at El Cajon, of that memorable
+      meeting at Chiricahua.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I want to ask you something,” he went on. “I’ve been wanting to know
+      something. That’s why I’ve hung on here. You never spoke to me, never
+      noticed me, never gave me a chance to ask you. But now I’m going over—over
+      the border. And I want to know. Why did you refuse to listen to me?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At his last words that hot shame, tenfold more stifling than when it had
+      before humiliated Madeline, rushed over her, sending the scarlet in a wave
+      to her temples. It seemed that his words made her realize she was actually
+      face to face with him, that somehow a shame she would rather have died
+      than revealed was being liberated. Biting her lips to hold back speech,
+      she jerked on Majesty’s bridle, struck him with her whip, spurred him.
+      Stewart’s iron arm held the horse. Then Madeline, in a flash of passion,
+      struck at Stewart’s face, missed it, struck again, and hit. With one pull,
+      almost drawing her from the saddle, he tore the whip from her hands. It
+      was not that action on his part, or the sudden strong masterfulness of his
+      look, so much as the livid mark on his face where the whip had lashed that
+      quieted, if it did not check, her fury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “That’s nothing,” he said, with something of his old audacity. “That’s
+      nothing to how you’ve hurt me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline battled with herself for control. This man would not be denied.
+      Never before had the hardness of his face, the flinty hardness of these
+      desert-bred men, so struck her with its revelation of the unbridled
+      spirit. He looked stern, haggard, bitter. The dark shade was changing to
+      gray—the gray to ash-color of passion. About him now there was only
+      the ghost of that finer, gentler man she had helped to bring into being.
+      The piercing dark eyes he bent upon her burned her, went through her as if
+      he were looking into her soul. Then Madeline’s quick sight caught a
+      fleeting doubt, a wistfulness, a surprised and saddened certainty in his
+      eyes, saw it shade and pass away. Her woman’s intuition, as keen as her
+      sight, told her Stewart in that moment had sustained a shock of bitter,
+      final truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the third time he repeated his question to her. Madeline did not
+      answer; she could not speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You don’t know I love you, do you?” he continued, passionately. “That
+      ever since you stood before me in that hole at Chiricahua I’ve loved you?
+      You can’t see I’ve been another man, loving you, working for you, living
+      for you? You won’t believe I’ve turned my back on the old wild life, that
+      I’ve been decent and honorable and happy and useful—your kind of a
+      cowboy? You couldn’t tell, though I loved you, that I never wanted you to
+      know it, that I never dared to think of you except as my angel, my holy
+      Virgin? What do you know of a man’s heart and soul? How could you tell of
+      the love, the salvation of a man who’s lived his life in the silence and
+      loneliness? Who could teach you the actual truth—that a wild cowboy,
+      faithless to mother and sister, except in memory, riding a hard, drunken
+      trail straight to hell; had looked into the face, the eyes of a beautiful
+      woman infinitely beyond him, above him, and had so loved her that he was
+      saved—that he became faithful again—that he saw her face in
+      every flower and her eyes in the blue heaven? Who could tell you, when at
+      night I stood alone under these Western stars, how deep in my soul I was
+      glad just to be alive, to be able to do something for you, to be near you,
+      to stand between you and worry, trouble, danger, to feel somehow that I
+      was a part, just a little part of the West you had come to love?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was mute. She heard her heart thundering in her ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart leaped at her. His powerful hand closed on her arm. She trembled.
+      His action presaged the old instinctive violence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No; but you think I kept Bonita up in the mountains, that I went secretly
+      to meet her, that all the while I served you I was—Oh, I know what
+      you think! I know now. I never knew till I made you look at me. Now, say
+      it! Speak!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      White-hot, blinded, utterly in the fiery grasp of passion, powerless to
+      stem the rush of a word both shameful and revealing and fatal, Madeline
+      cried:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “YES!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had wrenched that word from her, but he was not subtle enough, not
+      versed in the mystery of woman’s motive enough, to divine the deep
+      significance of her reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For him the word had only literal meaning confirming the dishonor in which
+      she held him. Dropping her arm, he shrank back, a strange action for the
+      savage and crude man she judged him to be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “But that day at Chiricahua you spoke of faith,” he burst out. “You said
+      the greatest thing in the world was faith in human nature. You said the
+      finest men had been those who had fallen low and had risen. You said you
+      had faith in me! You made me have faith in myself!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His reproach, without bitterness or scorn, was a lash to her old egoistic
+      belief in her fairness. She had preached a beautiful principle that she
+      had failed to live up to. She understood his rebuke, she wondered and
+      wavered, but the affront to her pride had been too great, the tumult
+      within her breast had been too startlingly fierce; she could not speak,
+      the moment passed, and with it his brief, rugged splendor of simplicity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You think I am vile,” he said. “You think that about Bonita! And all the
+      time I’ve been... I could make you ashamed—I could tell you—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His passionate utterance ceased with a snap of his teeth. His lips set in
+      a thin, bitter line. The agitation of his face preceded a convulsive
+      wrestling of his shoulders. All this swift action denoted an inner combat,
+      and it nearly overwhelmed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “No, no!” he panted. Was it his answer to some mighty temptation? Then,
+      like a bent sapling released, he sprang erect. “But I’ll be the man—the
+      dog—you think me!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He laid hold of her arm with rude, powerful clutch. One pull drew her
+      sliding half out of the saddle into his arms. She fell with her breast
+      against his, not wholly free of stirrups or horse, and there she hung,
+      utterly powerless. Maddened, writhing, she tore to release herself. All
+      she could accomplish was to twist herself, raise herself high enough to
+      see his face. That almost paralyzed her. Did he mean to kill her? Then he
+      wrapped his arms around her and crushed her tighter, closer to him. She
+      felt the pound of his heart; her own seemed to have frozen. Then he
+      pressed his burning lips to hers. It was a long, terrible kiss. She felt
+      him shake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, Stewart! I—implore—you—let—me—go!” she
+      whispered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His white face loomed over hers. She closed her eyes. He rained kisses
+      upon her face, but no more upon her mouth. On her closed eyes, her hair,
+      her cheeks, her neck he pressed swift lips—lips that lost their fire
+      and grew cold. Then he released her, and, lifting and righting her in the
+      saddle, he still held her arm to keep her from falling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment Madeline sat on her horse with shut eyes. She dreaded the
+      light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Now you can’t say you’ve never been kissed,” Stewart said. His voice
+      seemed a long way off. “But that was coming to you, so be game. Here!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt something hard and cold and metallic thrust into her hand. He
+      made her fingers close over it, hold it. The feel of the thing revived
+      her. She opened her eyes. Stewart had given her his gun. He stood with his
+      broad breast against her knee, and she looked up to see that old mocking
+      smile on his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Go ahead! Throw my gun on me! Be a thoroughbred!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline did not yet grasp his meaning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You can put me down in that quiet place on the hill—beside Monty
+      Price.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline dropped the gun with a shuddering cry of horror. The sense of his
+      words, the memory of Monty, the certainty that she would kill Stewart if
+      she held the gun an instant longer, tortured the self-accusing cry from
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart stooped to pick up the weapon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You might have saved me a hell of a lot of trouble,” he said, with
+      another flash of the mocking smile. “You’re beautiful and sweet and proud,
+      but you’re no thoroughbred! Majesty Hammond, adios!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart leaped for the saddle of his horse, and with the flying mount
+      crashed through the mesquites to disappear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0023">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XXII. The Secret Told
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      In the shaded seclusion of her room, buried face down deep among the soft
+      cushions on her couch, Madeline Hammond lay prostrate and quivering under
+      the outrage she had suffered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The afternoon wore away; twilight fell; night came; and then Madeline rose
+      to sit by the window to let the cool wind blow upon her hot face. She
+      passed through hours of unintelligible shame and impotent rage and futile
+      striving to reason away her defilement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The train of brightening stars seemed to mock her with their unattainable
+      passionless serenity. She had loved them, and now she imagined she hated
+      them and everything connected with this wild, fateful, and abrupt West.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She would go home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Edith Wayne had been right; the West was no place for Madeline Hammond.
+      The decision to go home came easily, naturally, she thought, as the result
+      of events. It caused her no mental strife. Indeed, she fancied she felt
+      relief. The great stars, blinking white and cold over the dark crags,
+      looked down upon her, and, as always, after she had watched them for a
+      while they enthralled her. “Under Western stars,” she mused, thinking a
+      little scornfully of the romantic destiny they had blazed for her idle
+      sentiment. But they were beautiful; they were speaking; they were mocking;
+      they drew her. “Ah!” she sighed. “It will not be so very easy to leave
+      them, after all.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline closed and darkened the window. She struck a light. It was
+      necessary to tell the anxious servants who knocked that she was well and
+      required nothing. A soft step on the walk outside arrested her. Who was
+      there—Nels or Nick Steele or Stillwell? Who shared the guardianship
+      over her, now that Monty Price was dead and that other—that savage—?
+      It was monstrous and unfathomable that she regretted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The light annoyed her. Complete darkness fitted her strange mood. She
+      retired and tried to compose herself to sleep. Sleep for her was not a
+      matter of will. Her cheeks burned so hotly that she rose to bathe them.
+      Cold water would not alleviate this burn, and then, despairing of
+      forgetfulness, she lay down again with a shameful gratitude for the cloak
+      of night. Stewart’s kisses were there, scorching her lips, her closed
+      eyes, her swelling neck. They penetrated deeper and deeper into her blood,
+      into her heart, into her soul—the terrible farewell kisses of a
+      passionate, hardened man. Despite his baseness, he had loved her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Late in the night Madeline fell asleep. In the morning she was pale and
+      languid, but in a mental condition that promised composure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was considerably after her regular hour that Madeline repaired to her
+      office. The door was open, and just outside, tipped back in a chair, sat
+      Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Mawnin’, Miss Majesty,” he said, as he rose to greet her with his usual
+      courtesy. There were signs of trouble in his lined face. Madeline shrank
+      inwardly, fearing his old lamentations about Stewart. Then she saw a
+      dusty, ragged pony in the yard and a little burro drooping under a heavy
+      pack. Both animals bore evidence of long, arduous travel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “To whom do they belong?” asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Them critters? Why, Danny Mains,” replied Stillwell, with a cough that
+      betrayed embarrassment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Danny Mains?” echoed Madeline, wonderingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Wal, I said so.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell was indeed not himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Is Danny Mains here?” she asked, in sudden curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old cattleman nodded gloomily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yep, he’s hyar, all right. Sloped in from the hills, an’ he hollered to
+      see Bonita. He’s locoed, too, about that little black-eyed hussy. Why, he
+      hardly said, ‘Howdy, Bill,’ before he begun to ask wild an’ eager
+      questions. I took him in to see Bonita. He’s been there more ’n a
+      half-hour now.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Evidently Stillwell’s sensitive feelings had been ruffled. Madeline’s
+      curiosity changed to blank astonishment, which left her with a thrilling
+      premonition. She caught her breath. A thousand thoughts seemed thronging
+      for clear conception in her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rapid footsteps with an accompaniment of clinking spurs sounded in the
+      hallway. Then a young man ran out upon the porch. He resembled a cowboy in
+      his lithe build, his garb and action, in the way he wore his gun, but his
+      face, instead of being red, was clear brown tan. His eyes were blue; his
+      hair was light and curly. He was a handsome, frank-faced boy. At sight of
+      Madeline he slammed down his sombrero and, leaping at her, he possessed
+      himself of her hands. His swift violence not only alarmed her, but
+      painfully reminded her of something she wished to forget.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This cowboy bent his head and kissed her hands and wrung them, and when he
+      straightened up he was crying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, she’s safe an’ almost well, an’ what I feared most ain’t
+      so, thank God,” he cried. “Sure I’ll never be able to pay you for all
+      you’ve done for her. She’s told me how she was dragged down here, how Gene
+      tried to save her, how you spoke up for Gene an’ her, too, how Monty at
+      the last throwed his guns. Poor Monty! We were good friends, Monty an’ I.
+      But it wasn’t friendship for me that made Monty stand in there. He would
+      have saved her, anyway. Monty Price was the whitest man I ever knew.
+      There’s Nels an’ Nick an’ Gene, he’s been some friend to me; but Monty
+      Price was—he was grand. He never knew, any more than you or Bill,
+      here, or the boys, what Bonita was to me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell’s kind and heavy hand fell upon the cowboy’s shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Danny, what’s all this queer gab?” he asked. “An’ you’re takin’ some
+      liberty with Miss Hammond, who never seen you before. Sure I’m makin’
+      allowance fer amazin’ strange talk. I see you’re not drinkin’. Mebbe
+      you’re plumb locoed. Come, ease up now an’ talk sense.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboy’s fine, frank face broke into a smile. He dashed the tears from
+      his eyes. Then he laughed. His laugh had a pleasant, boyish ring—a
+      happy ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, old pal, stand bridle down a minute, will you?” Then he bowed to
+      Madeline. “I beg your pardon, Miss Hammond, for seemin’ rudeness. I’m
+      Danny Mains. An’ Bonita is my wife. I’m so crazy glad she’s safe an’
+      unharmed—so grateful to you that—why, sure it’s a wonder I
+      didn’t kiss you outright.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bonita’s your wife!” ejaculated Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sure. We’ve been married for months,” replied Danny, happily. “Gene
+      Stewart did it. Good old Gene, he’s hell on marryin’. I guess maybe I
+      haven’t come to pay him up for all he’s done for me! You see, I’ve been in
+      love with Bonita for two years. An’ Gene—you know, Bill, what a way
+      Gene has with girls—he was—well, he was tryin’ to get Bonita
+      to have me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s quick, varying emotions were swallowed up in a boundless
+      gladness. Something dark, deep, heavy, and somber was flooded from her
+      heart. She had a sudden rich sense of gratitude toward this smiling,
+      clean-faced cowboy whose blue eyes flashed through tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Danny Mains!” she said, tremulously and smilingly. “If you are as glad as
+      your news has made me—if you really think I merit such a reward—you
+      may kiss me outright.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With a bashful wonder, but with right hearty will, Danny Mains availed
+      himself of this gracious privilege. Stillwell snorted. The signs of his
+      phenomenal smile were manifest, otherwise Madeline would have thought that
+      snort an indication of furious disapproval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, straddle a chair,” said Danny. “You’ve gone back a heap these last
+      few months, frettin’ over your bad boys, Danny an’ Gene. You’ll need
+      support under you while I’m throwin’ my yarn. Story of my life, Bill.” He
+      placed a chair for Madeline. “Miss Hammond, beggin’ your pardon again, I
+      want you to listen, also. You’ve the face an’ eyes of a woman who loves to
+      hear of other people’s happiness. Besides, somehow, it’s easy for me to
+      talk lookin’ at you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His manner subtly changed then. Possibly it took on a little swagger;
+      certainly he lost the dignity that he had shown under stress of feeling;
+      he was now more like a cowboy about to boast or affect some stunning
+      maneuver. Walking off the porch, he stood before the weary horse and
+      burro.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Played out!” he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then with the swift violence so characteristic of men of his class he
+      slipped the pack from the burro and threw saddle and bridle from the
+      horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “There! See ’em! Take a look at the last dog-gone weight you ever packed!
+      You’ve been some faithful to Danny Mains. An’ Danny Mains pays! Never a
+      saddle again or a strap or a halter or a hobble so long as you live! So
+      long as you live nothin’ but grass an’ clover, an’ cool water in shady
+      places, an’ dusty swales to roll in an’ rest an’ sleep!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he untied the pack and, taking a small, heavy sack from it, he came
+      back upon the porch. Deliberately he dumped the contents of the sack at
+      Stillwell’s feet. Piece after piece of rock thumped upon the floor. The
+      pieces were sharp, ragged, evidently broken from a ledge; the body of them
+      was white in color, with yellow veins and bars and streaks. Stillwell
+      grasped up one rock after another, stared and stuttered, put the rocks to
+      his lips, dug into them with his shaking fingers; then he lay back in his
+      chair, head against the wall, and as he gaped at Danny the old smile began
+      to transform his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Lord, Danny if you hevn’t been an’ gone an’ struck it rich!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Danny regarded Stillwell with lofty condescension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Some rich,” he said. “Now, Bill, what’ve we got here, say, offhand?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, Lord, Danny! I’m afraid to say. Look, Miss Majesty, jest look at the
+      gold. I’ve lived among prospectors an’ gold-mines fer thirty years, an’ I
+      never seen the beat of this.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “The Lost Mine of the Padres!” cried Danny, in stentorian voice. “An’ it
+      belongs to me!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell made some incoherent sound as he sat up fascinated, quite beside
+      himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, it was some long time ago since you saw me,” said Danny. “Fact is,
+      I know how you felt, because Gene kept me posted. I happened to run across
+      Bonita, an’ I wasn’t goin’ to let her ride away alone, when she told me
+      she was in trouble. We hit the trail for the Peloncillos. Bonita had
+      Gene’s horse, an’ she was to meet him up on the trail. We got to the
+      mountains all right, an’ nearly starved for a few days till Gene found us.
+      He had got in trouble himself an’ couldn’t fetch much with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “We made for the crags an’ built a cabin. I come down that day Gene sent
+      his horse Majesty to you. Never saw Gene so broken-hearted. Well, after he
+      sloped for the border Bonita an’ I were hard put to it to keep alive. But
+      we got along, an’ I think it was then she began to care a little for me.
+      Because I was decent. I killed cougars an’ went down to Rodeo to get
+      bounties for the skins, an’ bought grub an’ supplies I needed. Once I went
+      to El Cajon an’ run plumb into Gene. He was back from the revolution an’
+      cuttin’ up some. But I got away from him after doin’ all I could to drag
+      him out of town. A long time after that Gene trailed up to the crags an’
+      found us. Gene had stopped drinkin’, he’d changed wonderful, was fine an’
+      dandy. It was then he began to pester the life out of me to make me marry
+      Bonita. I was happy, so was she, an’ I was some scared of spoilin’ it.
+      Bonita had been a little flirt, an’ I was afraid she’d get shy of a
+      halter, so I bucked against Gene. But I was all locoed, as it turned out.
+      Gene would come up occasionally, packin’ supplies for us, an’ always he’d
+      get after me to do the right thing by Bonita. Gene’s so dog-gone hard to
+      buck against! I had to give in, an’ I asked Bonita to marry me. Well, she
+      wouldn’t at first—said she wasn’t good enough for me. But I saw the
+      marriage idea was workin’ deep, an’ I just kept on bein’ as decent as I
+      knew how. So it was my wantin’ to marry Bonita—my bein’ glad to
+      marry her—that made her grow soft an’ sweet an’ pretty as—as a
+      mountain quail. Gene fetched up Padre Marcos, an’ he married us.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Danny paused in his narrative, breathing hard, as if the memory of the
+      incident described had stirred strong and thrilling feeling in him.
+      Stillwell’s smile was rapturous. Madeline leaned toward Danny with her
+      eyes shining.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Hammond, an’ you, Bill Stillwell, now listen, for this is strange
+      I’ve got to tell you. The afternoon Bonita an’ I were married, when Gene
+      an’ the padre had gone, I was happy one minute an’ low-hearted the next. I
+      was miserable because I had a bad name. I couldn’t buy even a decent dress
+      for my pretty wife. Bonita heard me, an’ she was some mysterious. She told
+      me the story of the lost mine of the padres, an’ she kissed me an made
+      joyful over me in the strangest way. I knew marriage went to women’s
+      heads, an’ I thought even Bonita had a spell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Well, she left me for a little, an’ when she came back she wore some
+      pretty yellow flowers in her hair. Her eyes were big an’ black an’
+      beautiful. She said some queer things about spirits rollin’ rocks down the
+      canyon. Then she said she wanted to show me where she always sat an’
+      waited an’ watched for me when I was away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “She led me around under the crags to a long slope. It was some pretty
+      there—clear an’ open, with a long sweep, an’ the desert yawnin’ deep
+      an’ red. There were yellow flowers on that slope, the same kind she had in
+      her hair—the same kind that Apache girl wore hundreds of years ago
+      when she led the padre to the gold-mine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “When I thought of that, an’ saw Bonita’s eyes, an’ then heard the strange
+      crack of rollin’ rocks—heard them rattle down an’ roll an’ grow
+      faint—I was some out of my head. But not for long. Them rocks were
+      rollin’ all right, only it was the weatherin’ of the cliffs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “An’ there under the crags was a gold pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Then I was worse than locoed. I went gold-crazy. I worked like seventeen
+      burros. Bill, I dug a lot of goldbearin’ quartz. Bonita watched the trails
+      for me, brought me water. That was how she come to get caught by Pat Hawe
+      an’ his guerrillas. Sure! Pat Hawe was so set on doin’ Gene dirt that he
+      mixed up with Don Carlos. Bonita will tell you some staggerin’ news about
+      that outfit. Just now my story is all gold.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Danny Mains got up and kicked back his chair. Blue lightning gleamed from
+      his eyes as he thrust a hand toward Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Bill, old pal, put her there—give me your hand,” he said. “You were
+      always my friend. You had faith in me. Well, Danny Mains owes you, an’ he
+      owes Gene Stewart a good deal, an’ Danny Mains pays. I want two pardners
+      to help me work my gold-mine. You an’ Gene. If there’s any ranch
+      hereabouts that takes your fancy I’ll buy it. If Miss Hammond ever gets
+      tired of her range an stock an’ home I’ll buy them for Gene. If there’s
+      any railroad or town round here that she likes I’ll buy it. If I see
+      anythin’ myself that I like I’ll buy it. Go out; find Gene for me. I’m
+      achin’ to see him, to tell him. Go fetch him; an’ right here in this
+      house, with my wife an’ Miss Hammond as witnesses, we’ll draw up a
+      pardnership. Go find him, Bill. I want to show him this gold, show him how
+      Danny Mains pays! An’ the only bitter drop in my cup to-day is that I
+      can’t ever pay Monty Price.”
+     </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s lips tremblingly formed to tell Danny Mains and Stillwell that
+      the cowboy they wanted so much had left the ranch; but the flame of fine
+      loyalty that burned in Danny’s eyes, the happiness that made the old
+      cattleman’s face at once amazing and beautiful, stiffened her lips. She
+      watched the huge Stillwell and the little cowboy, both talking wildly, as
+      they walked off arm in arm to find Stewart. She imagined something of what
+      Danny’s disappointment would be, of the elder man’s consternation and
+      grief, when he learned Stewart had left for the border. At this juncture
+      she looked up to see a strange, yet familiar figure approaching. Padre
+      Marcos! Certain it was that Madeline felt herself trembling. What did his
+      presence mean on this day? He had always avoided meeting her whenever
+      possible. He had been exceedingly grateful for all she had done for his
+      people, his church, and himself; but he had never thanked her in person.
+      Perhaps he had come for that purpose now. But Madeline did not believe so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mention of Padre Marcos, sight of him, had always occasioned Madeline a
+      little indefinable shock; and now, as he stepped to the porch, a shrunken,
+      stooped, and sad-faced man, she was startled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The padre bowed low to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senora, will you grant me audience?” he asked, in perfect English, and
+      his voice was low-toned and grave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Certainly, Padre Marcos,” replied Madeline; and she led him into her
+      office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “May I beg to close the doors?” he asked. “It is a matter of great moment,
+      which you might not care to have any one hear.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Wonderingly Madeline inclined her head. The padre gently closed one door
+      and then the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senora, I have come to disclose a secret—my own sinfulness in
+      keeping it—and to implore your pardon. Do you remember that night
+      Senor Stewart dragged me before you in the waiting-room at El Cajon?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senora, since that night you have been Senor Stewart’s wife!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline became as motionless as stone. She seemed to feel nothing, only
+      to hear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You are Senor Stewart’s wife. I have kept the secret under fear of death.
+      But I could keep it no longer. Senor Stewart may kill me now. Ah, Senora,
+      it is very strange to you. You were so frightened that night, you knew not
+      what happened. Senor Stewart threatened me. He forced you. He made me
+      speak the service. He made you speak the Spanish yes. And I, Senora,
+      knowing the deeds of these sinful cowboys, fearing worse than disgrace to
+      one so beautiful and so good as you, I could not do less than marry you
+      truly. At least you should be his wife. So I married you, truly, in the
+      service of my church.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “My God!” cried Madeline, rising.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hear me! I implore you, Senora, hear me out! Do not leave me! Do not look
+      so—so—Ah, Senora, let me speak a word for Senor Stewart. He
+      was drunk that night. He did not know what he was about. In the morning he
+      came to me, made me swear by my cross that I would not reveal the disgrace
+      he had put upon you. If I did he would kill me. Life is nothing to the
+      American vaquero, Senora. I promised to respect his command. But I did not
+      tell him you were his wife. He did not dream I had truly married you. He
+      went to fight for the freedom of my country—Senora, he is one
+      splendid soldier—and I brooded over the sin of my secret. If he were
+      killed I need never tell you. But if he lived I knew that I must some day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Strange indeed that Senor Stewart and Padre Marcos should both come to
+      this ranch together. The great change your goodness wrought in my beloved
+      people was no greater than the change in Senor Stewart. Senora, I feared
+      you would go away one day, go back to your Eastern home, ignorant of the
+      truth. The time came when I confessed to Stewart—said I must tell
+      you. Senor, the man went mad with joy. I have never seen so supreme a joy.
+      He threatened no more to kill me. That strong, cruel vaquero begged me not
+      to tell the secret—never to reveal it. He confessed his love for you—a
+      love something like the desert storm. He swore by all that was once sacred
+      to him, and by my cross and my church, that he would be a good man, that
+      he would be worthy to have you secretly his wife for the little time life
+      left him to worship at your shrine. You needed never to know. So I held my
+      tongue, half pitying him, half fearing him, and praying for some God-sent
+      light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senora, it was a fool’s paradise that Stewart lived in. I saw him, often.
+      When he took me up into the mountains to have me marry that wayward Bonita
+      and her lover I came to have respect for a man whose ideas about nature
+      and life and God were at a variance with mine. But the man is a worshiper
+      of God in all material things. He is a part of the wind and sun and desert
+      and mountain that have made him. I have never heard more beautiful words
+      than those in which he persuaded Bonita to accept Senor Mains, to forget
+      her old lovers, and henceforth to be happy. He is their friend. I wish I
+      could tell you what that means. It sounds so simple. It is really simple.
+      All great things are so. For Senor Stewart it was natural to be loyal to
+      his friend, to have a fine sense of the honor due to a woman who had loved
+      and given, to bring about their marriage, to succor them in their need and
+      loneliness. It was natural for him never to speak of them. It would have
+      been natural for him to give his life in their defense if peril menaced
+      them. Senora, I want you to understand that to me the man has the same
+      stability, the same strength, the same elements which I am in the habit of
+      attributing to the physical life around me in this wild and rugged
+      desert.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline listened as one under a spell. It was not only that this
+      soft-voiced, eloquent priest knew how to move the heart, stir the soul;
+      but his defense, his praise of Stewart, if they had been couched in the
+      crude speech of cowboys, would have been a glory to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senora, I pray you, do not misunderstand my mission. Beyond my confession
+      to you I have only a duty to tell you of the man whose wife you are. But I
+      am a priest and I can read the soul. The ways of God are inscrutable. I am
+      only a humble instrument. You are a noble woman, and Senor Stewart is a
+      man of desert iron forged anew in the crucible of love. Quien sabe? Senor
+      Stewart swore he would kill me if I betrayed him. But he will not lift his
+      hand against me. For the man bears you a very great and pure love, and it
+      has changed him. I no longer fear his threat, but I do fear his anger,
+      should he ever know I spoke of his love, of his fool’s paradise. I have
+      watched his dark face turned to the sun setting over the desert. I have
+      watched him lift it to the light of the stars. Think, my gracious and
+      noble lady, think what is his paradise? To love you above the spirit of
+      the flesh; to know you are his wife, his, never to be another’s except by
+      his sacrifice; to watch you with a secret glory of joy and pride; to
+      stand, while he might, between you and evil; to find his happiness in
+      service; to wait, with never a dream of telling you, for the hour to come
+      when to leave you free he must go out and get himself shot! Senora, that
+      is beautiful, it is sublime, it is terrible. It has brought me to you with
+      my confession. I repeat, Senora, the ways of God are inscrutable. What is
+      the meaning of your influence upon Senor Stewart? Once he was merely an
+      animal, brutal, unquickened; now he is a man—I have not seen his
+      like! So I beseech you in my humble office as priest, as a lover of
+      mankind, before you send Stewart to his death, to be sure there is here no
+      mysterious dispensation of God. Love, that mighty and blessed and unknown
+      thing, might be at work. Senora, I have heard that somewhere in the rich
+      Eastern cities you are a very great lady. I know you are good and noble.
+      That is all I want to know. To me you are only a woman, the same as Senor
+      Stewart is only a man. So I pray you, Senora, before you let Stewart give
+      you freedom at such cost be sure you do not want his love, lest you cast
+      away something sweet and ennobling which you yourself have created.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0024">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XXIII. The Light of Western Stars
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      Blinded, like a wild creature, Madeline Hammond ran to her room. She felt
+      as if a stroke of lightning had shattered the shadowy substance of the
+      dream she had made of real life. The wonder of Danny Mains’s story, the
+      strange regret with which she had realized her injustice to Stewart, the
+      astounding secret as revealed by Padre Marcos—these were forgotten
+      in the sudden consciousness of her own love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline fled as if pursued. With trembling hands she locked the doors,
+      drew the blinds of the windows that opened on the porch, pushed chairs
+      aside so that she could pace the length of her room. She was now alone,
+      and she walked with soft, hurried, uneven steps. She could be herself
+      here; she needed no mask; the long habit of serenely hiding the truth from
+      the world and from herself could be broken. The seclusion of her darkened
+      chamber made possible that betrayal of herself to which she was impelled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She paused in her swift pacing to and fro. She liberated the thought that
+      knocked at the gates of her mind. With quivering lips she whispered it.
+      Then she spoke aloud:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I will say it—hear it. I—I love him!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I love him!” she repeated the astounding truth, but she doubted her
+      identity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Am I still Madeline Hammond? What has happened? Who am I?” She stood
+      where the light from one unclosed window fell upon her image in the
+      mirror. “Who is this woman?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She expected to see a familiar, dignified person, a quiet, unruffled
+      figure, a tranquil face with dark, proud eyes and calm, proud lips. No,
+      she did not see Madeline Hammond. She did not see any one she knew. Were
+      her eyes, like her heart, playing her false? The figure before her was
+      instinct with pulsating life. The hands she saw, clasped together, pressed
+      deep into a swelling bosom that heaved with each panting breath. The face
+      she saw—white, rapt, strangely glowing, with parted, quivering lips,
+      with great, staring, tragic eyes—this could not be Madeline
+      Hammond’s face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet as she looked she knew no fancy could really deceive her, that she was
+      only Madeline Hammond come at last to the end of brooding dreams. She
+      swiftly realized the change in her, divined its cause and meaning,
+      accepted it as inevitable, and straightway fell back again into the mood
+      of bewildering amaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Calmness was unattainable. The surprise absorbed her. She could not go
+      back to count the innumerable, imperceptible steps of her undoing. Her old
+      power of reflecting, analyzing, even thinking at all, seemed to have
+      vanished in a pulse-stirring sense of one new emotion. She only felt all
+      her instinctive outward action that was a physical relief, all her
+      involuntary inner strife that was maddening, yet unutterably sweet; and
+      they seemed to be just one bewildering effect of surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a nature like hers, where strength of feeling had long been inhibited
+      as a matter of training, such a transforming surprise as sudden
+      consciousness of passionate love required time for its awakening, time for
+      its sway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By and by that last enlightening moment came, and Madeline Hammond faced
+      not only the love in her heart, but the thought of the man she loved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly, as she raged, something in her—this dauntless new
+      personality—took arms against indictment of Gene Stewart. Her mind
+      whirled about him and his life. She saw him drunk, brutal; she saw him
+      abandoned, lost. Then out of the picture she had of him thus slowly grew
+      one of a different man—weak, sick, changed by shock, growing strong,
+      strangely, spiritually altered, silent, lonely like an eagle, secretive,
+      tireless, faithful, soft as a woman, hard as iron to endure, and at the
+      last noble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She softened. In a flash her complex mood changed to one wherein she
+      thought of the truth, the beauty, the wonder of Stewart’s uplifting.
+      Humbly she trusted that she had helped him to climb. That influence had
+      been the best she had ever exerted. It had wrought magic in her own
+      character. By it she had reached some higher, nobler plane of trust in
+      man. She had received infinitely more than she had given.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her swiftly flying memory seemed to assort a vast mine of treasures of the
+      past. Of that letter Stewart had written to her brother she saw vivid
+      words. But ah! she had known, and if it had not made any difference then,
+      now it made all in the world. She recalled how her loosened hair had blown
+      across his lips that night he had ridden down from the mountains carrying
+      her in his arms. She recalled the strange joy of pride in Stewart’s eyes
+      when he had suddenly come upon her dressed to receive her Eastern guests
+      in the white gown with the red roses at her breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Swiftly as they had come these dreamful memories departed. There was to be
+      no rest for her mind. All she had thought and felt seemed only to presage
+      a tumult.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Heedless, desperate, she cast off the last remnant of self-control, turned
+      from the old proud, pale, cold, self-contained ghost of herself to face
+      this strange, strong, passionate woman. Then, with hands pressed to her
+      beating heart, with eyes shut, she listened to the ringing trip-hammer
+      voice of circumstance, of truth, of fatality. The whole story was
+      revealed, simple enough in the sum of its complicated details, strange and
+      beautiful in part, remorseless in its proof of great love on Stewart’s
+      side, in dreaming blindness on her own, and, from the first fatal moment
+      to the last, prophetic of tragedy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, like a prisoner in a cell, began again to pace to and fro.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Oh, it is all terrible!” she cried. “I am his wife. His wife! That
+      meeting with him—the marriage—then his fall, his love, his
+      rise, his silence, his pride! And I can never be anything to him. Could I
+      be anything to him? I, Madeline Hammond? But I am his wife, and I love
+      him! His wife! I am the wife of a cowboy! That might be undone. Can my
+      love be undone? Ah, do I want anything undone? He is gone. Gone! Could he
+      have meant—I will not, dare not think of that. He will come back.
+      No, he never will come back. Oh, what shall I do?”
+     </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      For Madeline Hammond the days following that storm of feeling were
+      leaden-footed, endless, hopeless—a long succession of weary hours,
+      sleepless hours, passionate hours, all haunted by a fear slowly growing
+      into torture, a fear that Stewart had crossed the border to invite the
+      bullet which would give her freedom. The day came when she knew this to be
+      true. The spiritual tidings reached her, not subtly as so many divinations
+      had come, but in a clear, vital flash of certainty. Then she suffered. She
+      burned inwardly, and the nature of that deep fire showed through her eyes.
+      She kept to herself, waiting, waiting for her fears to be confirmed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At times she broke out in wrath at the circumstances she had failed to
+      control, at herself, at Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “He might have learned from Ambrose!” she exclaimed, sick with a
+      bitterness she knew was not consistent with her pride. She recalled
+      Christine’s trenchant exposition of Ambrose’s wooing: “He tell me he love
+      me; he kees me; he hug me; he put me on his horse; he ride away with me;
+      he marry me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then in the next breath Madeline denied this insistent clamoring of a love
+      that was gradually breaking her spirit. Like a somber shadow remorse
+      followed her, shading blacker. She had been blind to a man’s honesty,
+      manliness, uprightness, faith, and striving. She had been dead to love, to
+      nobility that she had herself created. Padre Marcos’s grave, wise words
+      returned to haunt her. She fought her bitterness, scorned her
+      intelligence, hated her pride, and, weakening, gave up more and more to a
+      yearning, hopeless hope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had shunned the light of the stars as she had violently dismissed
+      every hinting suggestive memory of Stewart’s kisses. But one night she
+      went deliberately to her window. There they shone. Her stars! Beautiful,
+      passionless as always, but strangely closer, warmer, speaking a kinder
+      language, helpful as they had never been, teaching her now that regret was
+      futile, revealing to her in their one grand, blazing task the supreme duty
+      of life—to be true.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Those shining stars made her yield. She whispered to them that they had
+      claimed her—the West claimed her—Stewart claimed her forever,
+      whether he lived or died. She gave up to her love. And it was as if he was
+      there in person, dark-faced, fire-eyed, violent in his action, crushing
+      her to his breast in that farewell moment, kissing her with one burning
+      kiss of passion, then with cold, terrible lips of renunciation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am your wife!” she whispered to him. In that moment, throbbing,
+      exalted, quivering in her first sweet, tumultuous surrender to love, she
+      would have given her all, her life, to be in his arms again, to meet his
+      lips, to put forever out of his power any thought of wild sacrifice.
+    </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      And on the morning of the next day, when Madeline went out upon the porch,
+      Stillwell, haggard and stern, with a husky, incoherent word, handed her a
+      message from El Cajon. She read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      El Capitan Stewart captured by rebel soldiers in fight at Agua Prieta
+      yesterday. He was a sharpshooter in the Federal ranks. Sentenced to death
+      Thursday at sunset.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0025">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XXIV. The Ride
+    </h2></div>
+    <h3>
+      “Stillwell!”
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      Madeline’s cry was more than the utterance of a breaking heart. It was
+      full of agony. But also it uttered the shattering of a structure built of
+      false pride, of old beliefs, of bloodless standards, of ignorance of self.
+      It betrayed the final conquest of her doubts, and out of their darkness
+      blazed the unquenchable spirit of a woman who had found herself, her love,
+      her salvation, her duty to a man, and who would not be cheated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old cattleman stood mute before her, staring at her white face, at her
+      eyes of flame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stillwell! I am Stewart’s wife!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “My Gawd, Miss Majesty!” he burst out. “I knowed somethin’ turrible was
+      wrong. Aw, sure it’s a pity—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Do you think I’ll let him be shot when I know him now, when I’m no longer
+      blind, when I love him?” she asked, with passionate swiftness. “I will
+      save him. This is Wednesday morning. I have thirty-six hours to save his
+      life. Stillwell, send for Link and the car!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went into her office. Her mind worked with extraordinary rapidity and
+      clearness. Her plan, born in one lightning-like flash of thought,
+      necessitated the careful wording of telegrams to Washington, to New York,
+      to San Antonio. These were to Senators, Representatives, men high in
+      public and private life, men who would remember her and who would serve
+      her to their utmost. Never before had her position meant anything to her
+      comparable with what it meant now. Never in all her life had money seemed
+      the power that it was then. If she had been poor! A shuddering chill froze
+      the thought at its inception. She dispelled heartbreaking thoughts. She
+      had power. She had wealth. She would set into operation all the unlimited
+      means these gave her—the wires and pulleys and strings underneath
+      the surface of political and international life, the open, free,
+      purchasing value of money or the deep, underground, mysterious,
+      incalculably powerful influence moved by gold. She could save Stewart. She
+      must await results—deadlocked in feeling, strained perhaps almost
+      beyond endurance, because the suspense would be great; but she would allow
+      no possibility of failure to enter her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she went outside the car was there with Link, helmet in hand, a cool,
+      bright gleam in his eyes, and with Stillwell, losing his haggard misery,
+      beginning to respond to Madeline’s spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Link, drive Stillwell to El Cajon in time for him to catch the El Paso
+      train,” she said. “Wait there for his return, and if any message comes
+      from him, telephone it at once to me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she gave Stillwell the telegrams to send from El Cajon and drafts to
+      cash in El Paso. She instructed him to go before the rebel junta, then
+      stationed at Juarez, to explain the situation, to bid them expect
+      communications from Washington officials requesting and advising Stewart’s
+      exchange as a prisoner of war, to offer to buy his release from the rebel
+      authorities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Stillwell had heard her through his huge, bowed form straightened, a
+      ghost of his old smile just moved his lips. He was no longer young, and
+      hope could not at once drive away stern and grim realities. As he bent
+      over her hand his manner appeared courtly and reverent. But either he was
+      speechless or felt the moment not one for him to break silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He climbed to a seat beside Link, who pocketed the watch he had been
+      studying and leaned over the wheel. There was a crack, a muffled sound
+      bursting into a roar, and the big car jerked forward to bound over the
+      edge of the slope, to leap down the long incline, to shoot out upon the
+      level valley floor and disappear in moving dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time in days Madeline visited the gardens, the corrals, the
+      lakes, the quarters of the cowboys. Though imagining she was calm, she
+      feared she looked strange to Nels, to Nick, to Frankie Slade, to those
+      boys best known to her. The situation for them must have been one of
+      tormenting pain and bewilderment. They acted as if they wanted to say
+      something to her, but found themselves spellbound. She wondered—did
+      they know she was Stewart’s wife? Stillwell had not had time to tell them;
+      besides, he would not have mentioned the fact. These cowboys only knew
+      that Stewart was sentenced to be shot; they knew if Madeline had not been
+      angry with him he would not have gone in desperate fighting mood across
+      the border. She spoke of the weather, of the horses and cattle, asked Nels
+      when he was to go on duty, and turned away from the wide, sunlit,
+      adobe-arched porch where the cowboys stood silent and bareheaded. Then one
+      of her subtle impulses checked her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, you and Nick need not go on duty to-day,” she said. “I may want
+      you. I—I—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hesitated, paused, and stood lingering there. Her glance had fallen
+      upon Stewart’s big black horse prancing in a near-by corral.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I have sent Stillwell to El Paso,” she went on, in a low voice she failed
+      to hold steady. “He will save Stewart. I have to tell you—I am
+      Stewart’s wife!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt the stricken amaze that made these men silent and immovable. With
+      level gaze averted she left them. Returning to the house and her room, she
+      prepared for something—for what? To wait!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then a great invisible shadow seemed to hover behind her. She essayed many
+      tasks, to fail of attention, to find that her mind held only Stewart and
+      his fortunes. Why had he become a Federal? She reflected that he had won
+      his title, El Capitan, fighting for Madero, the rebel. But Madero was now
+      a Federal, and Stewart was true to him. In crossing the border had Stewart
+      any other motive than the one he had implied to Madeline in his mocking
+      smile and scornful words, “You might have saved me a hell of a lot of
+      trouble!” What trouble? She felt again the cold shock of contact with the
+      gun she had dropped in horror. He meant the trouble of getting himself
+      shot in the only way a man could seek death without cowardice. But had he
+      any other motive? She recalled Don Carlos and his guerrillas. Then the
+      thought leaped up in her mind with gripping power that Stewart meant to
+      hunt Don Carlos, to meet him, to kill him. It would be the deed of a
+      silent, vengeful, implacable man driven by wild justice such as had been
+      the deadly leaven in Monty Price. It was a deed to expect of Nels or Nick
+      Steel—and, aye, of Gene Stewart. Madeline felt regret that Stewart,
+      as he had climbed so high, had not risen above deliberate seeking to kill
+      his enemy, however evil that enemy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The local newspapers, which came regularly a day late from El Paso and
+      Douglas, had never won any particular interest from Madeline; now,
+      however, she took up any copies she could find and read all the
+      information pertaining to the revolution. Every word seemed vital to her,
+      of moving significant force.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      AMERICANS ROBBED BY MEXICAN REBELS
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MADERA, STATE OF CHIHUAHUA, MEXICO, July 17.—Having looted the
+      Madera Lumber Company’s storehouses of $25,000 worth of goods and robbed
+      scores of foreigners of horses and saddles, the rebel command of Gen.
+      Antonio Rojas, comprising a thousand men, started westward to-day through
+      the state of Sonora for Agnaymas and Pacific coast points.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The troops are headed for Dolores, where a mountain pass leads into the
+      state of Sonora. Their entrance will be opposed by 1,000 Maderista
+      volunteers, who are reported to be waiting the rebel invasion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The railroad south of Madera is being destroyed and many Americans who
+      were traveling to Chihuahua from Juarez are marooned here.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      General Rojas executed five men while here for alleged offenses of a
+      trivial character. Gen. Rosalio y Hernandez, Lieut. Cipriano Amador, and
+      three soldiers were the unfortunates.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      WASHINGTON, July 17.—Somewhere in Mexico Patrick Dunne, an American
+      citizen, is in prison under sentence of death. This much and no more the
+      State Department learned through Representative Kinkaid of Nebraska.
+      Consular officers in various sections of Mexico have been directed to make
+      every effort to locate Dunne and save his life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      JUAREZ, MEXICO, July 31.—General Orozco, chief of the rebels,
+      declared to-day:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “If the United States will throw down the barriers and let us have all the
+      ammunition we can buy, I promise in sixty days to have peace restored in
+      Mexico and a stable government in charge.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      CASAS GRANDES, CHIHUAHUA, July 31.—Rebel soldiers looted many homes
+      of Mormons near here yesterday. All the Mormon families have fled to El
+      Paso. Although General Salazar had two of his soldiers executed yesterday
+      for robbing Mormons, he has not made any attempt to stop his men looting
+      the unprotected homes of Americans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Last night’s and to-day’s trains carried many Americans from Pearson,
+      Madera, and other localities outside the Mormon settlements. Refugees from
+      Mexico continued to pour into El Paso. About one hundred came last night,
+      the majority of whom were men. Heretofore few men came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline read on in feverish absorption. It was not a real war, but a
+      starving, robbing, burning, hopeless revolution. Five men executed for
+      alleged offenses of a trivial nature! What chance had, then, a Federal
+      prisoner, an enemy to be feared, an American cowboy in the clutches of
+      those crazed rebels?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline endured patiently, endured for long interminable hours while
+      holding to her hope with indomitable will.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No message came. At sunset she went outdoors, suffering a torment of
+      accumulating suspense. She faced the desert, hoping, praying for strength.
+      The desert did not influence her as did the passionless, unchangeable
+      stars that had soothed her spirit. It was red, mutable, shrouded in
+      shadows, terrible like her mood. A dust-veiled sunset colored the vast,
+      brooding, naked waste of rock and sand. The grim Chiricahua frowned black
+      and sinister. The dim blue domes of the Guadalupes seemed to whisper, to
+      beckon to her. Beyond them somewhere was Stewart, awaiting the end of a
+      few brief hours—hours that to her were boundless, endless,
+      insupportable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Night fell. But now the white, pitiless stars failed her. Then she sought
+      the seclusion and darkness of her room, there to lie with wide eyes,
+      waiting, waiting. She had always been susceptible to the somber, mystic
+      unrealities of the night, and now her mind slowly revolved round a vague
+      and monstrous gloom. Nevertheless, she was acutely sensitive to outside
+      impressions. She heard the measured tread of a guard, the rustle of wind
+      stirring the window-curtain, the remote, mournful wail of a coyote. By and
+      by the dead silence of the night insulated her with leaden oppression.
+      There was silent darkness for so long that when the window casements
+      showed gray she believed it was only fancy and that dawn would never come.
+      She prayed for the sun not to rise, not to begin its short twelve-hour
+      journey toward what might be a fatal setting for Stewart. But the dawn did
+      lighten, swiftly she thought, remorselessly. Daylight had broken, and this
+      was Thursday!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sharp ringing of the telephone bell startled her, roused her into action.
+      She ran to answer the call.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Hello—hello—Miss Majesty!” came the hurried reply. “This is
+      Link talkin’. Messages for you. Favorable, the operator said. I’m to ride
+      out with them. I’ll come a-hummin’.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was all. Madeline heard the bang of the receiver as Stevens threw it
+      down. She passionately wanted to know more, but was immeasurably grateful
+      for so much! Favorable! Then Stillwell had been successful. Her heart
+      leaped. Suddenly she became weak and her hands failed of their accustomed
+      morning deftness. It took her what seemed a thousand years to dress.
+      Breakfast meant nothing to her except that it helped her to pass dragging
+      minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Finally a low hum, mounting swiftly to a roar and ending with a sharp
+      report, announced the arrival of the car. If her feet had kept pace with
+      her heart she would have raced out to meet Link. She saw him, helmet
+      thrown back, watch in hand, and he looked up at her with his cool, bright
+      smile, with his familiar apologetic manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Fifty-three minutes, Miss Majesty,” he said, “but I hed to ride round a
+      herd of steers an’ bump a couple off the trail.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave her a packet of telegrams. Madeline tore them open with shaking
+      fingers, began to read with swift, dim eyes. Some were from Washington,
+      assuring her of every possible service; some were from New York; others
+      written in Spanish were from El Paso, and these she could not wholly
+      translate in a brief glance. Would she never find Stillwell’s message? It
+      was the last. It was lengthy. It read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bought Stewart’s release. Also arranged for his transfer as prisoner of
+      war. Both matters official. He’s safe if we can get notice to his captors.
+      Not sure I’ve reached them by wire. Afraid to trust it. You go with Link
+      to Agua Prieta. Take the messages sent you in Spanish. They will protect
+      you and secure Stewart’s freedom. Take Nels with you. Stop for nothing.
+      Tell Link all—trust him—let him drive that car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      STILLWELL.
+    </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      The first few lines of Stillwell’s message lifted Madeline to the heights
+      of thanksgiving and happiness. Then, reading on, she experienced a check,
+      a numb, icy, sickening pang. At the last line she flung off doubt and
+      dread, and in white, cold passion faced the issue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Read,” she said, briefly, handing the telegram to Link. He scanned it and
+      then looked blankly up at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Link, do you know the roads, the trails—the desert between here and
+      Agua Prieta?” she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Thet’s sure my old stampin’-ground. An’ I know Sonora, too.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “We must reach Agua Prieta before sunset—long before, so if Stewart
+      is in some near-by camp we can get to it in—in time.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, it ain’t possible!” he exclaimed. “Stillwell’s crazy to say
+      thet.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Link, can an automobile be driven from here into northern Mexico?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sure. But it ’d take time.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “We must do it in little time,” she went on, in swift eagerness.
+      “Otherwise Stewart may be—probably will be—be shot.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Link Stevens appeared suddenly to grow lax, shriveled, to lose all his
+      peculiar pert brightness, to weaken and age.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I’m only a—a cowboy, Miss Majesty.” He almost faltered. It was a
+      singular change in him. “Thet’s an awful ride—down over the border.
+      If by some luck I didn’t smash the car I’d turn your hair gray. You’d
+      never be no good after thet ride!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am Stewart’s wife,” she answered him and she looked at him, not
+      conscious of any motive to persuade or allure, but just to let him know
+      the greatness of her dependence upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He started violently—the old action of Stewart, the memorable action
+      of Monty Price. This man was of the same wild breed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Madeline’s words flowed in a torrent. “I am Stewart’s wife. I love
+      him; I have been unjust to him; I must save him. Link, I have faith in
+      you. I beseech you to do your best for Stewart’s sake—for my sake.
+      I’ll risk the ride gladly—bravely. I’ll not care where or how you
+      drive. I’d far rather plunge into a canyon—go to my death on the
+      rocks—than not try to save Stewart.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      How beautiful the response of this rude cowboy—to realize his
+      absolute unconsciousness of self, to see the haggard shade burn out of his
+      face, the old, cool, devil-may-care spirit return to his eyes, and to feel
+      something wonderful about him then! It was more than will or daring or
+      sacrifice. A blood-tie might have existed between him and Madeline. She
+      sensed again that indefinable brother-like quality, so fine, so almost
+      invisible, which seemed to be an inalienable trait in these wild cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, thet ride figgers impossible, but I’ll do it!” he replied.
+      His cool, bright glance thrilled her. “I’ll need mebbe half an hour to go
+      over the car an’ to pack on what I’ll want.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She could not thank him, and her reply was merely a request that he tell
+      Nels and other cowboys off duty to come up to the house. When Link had
+      gone Madeline gave a moment’s thought to preparations for the ride. She
+      placed what money she had and the telegrams in a satchel. The gown she had
+      on was thin and white, not suitable for travel, but she would not risk the
+      losing of one moment in changing it. She put on a long coat and wound
+      veils round her head and neck, arranging them in a hood so she could cover
+      her face when necessary. She remembered to take an extra pair of goggles
+      for Nels’s use, and then, drawing on her gloves, she went out ready for
+      the ride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A number of cowboys were waiting. She explained the situation and left
+      them in charge of her home. With that she asked Nels to accompany her down
+      into the desert. He turned white to his lips, and this occasioned Madeline
+      to remember his mortal dread of the car and Link’s driving.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Nels, I’m sorry to ask you,” she added. “I know you hate the car. But I
+      need you—may need you, oh! so much.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why, Miss Majesty, thet’s shore all a mistaken idee of yours about me
+      hatin’ the car,” he said, in his slow, soft drawl. “I was only jealous of
+      Link; an’ the boys, they made thet joke up on me about bein’ scared of
+      ridin’ fast. Shore I’m powerful proud to go. An’ I reckon if you hedn’t
+      asked me my feelin’s might hev been some hurt. Because if you’re goin’
+      down among the Greasers you want me.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His cool, easy speech, his familiar swagger, the smile with which he
+      regarded her did not in the least deceive Madeline. The gray was still in
+      his face. Incomprehensible as it seemed, Nels had a dread, an uncanny
+      fear, and it was of that huge white automobile. But he lied about it. Here
+      again was that strange quality of faithfulness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline heard the buzz of the car. Link appeared driving up the slope. He
+      made a short, sliding turn and stopped before the porch. Link had tied two
+      long, heavy planks upon the car, one on each side, and in every available
+      space he had strapped extra tires. A huge cask occupied one back seat, and
+      another seat was full of tools and ropes. There was just room in this rear
+      part of the car for Nels to squeeze in. Link put Madeline in front beside
+      him, then bent over the wheel. Madeline waved her hand at the silent
+      cowboys on the porch. Not an audible good-by was spoken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The car glided out of the yard, leaped from level to slope, and started
+      swiftly down the road, out into the open valley. Each stronger rush of dry
+      wind in Madeline’s face marked the increase of speed. She took one glance
+      at the winding cattle-road, smooth, unobstructed, disappearing in the gray
+      of distance. She took another at the leather-garbed, leather-helmeted
+      driver beside her, and then she drew the hood of veils over her face and
+      fastened it round her neck so there was no possibility of its blowing
+      loose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Harder and stronger pressed the wind till it was like sheeted lead forcing
+      her back in her seat. There was a ceaseless, intense, inconceivably rapid
+      vibration under her; occasionally she felt a long swing, as if she were to
+      be propelled aloft; but no jars disturbed the easy celerity of the car.
+      The buzz, the roar of wheels, of heavy body in flight, increased to a
+      continuous droning hum. The wind became an insupportable body moving
+      toward her, crushing her breast, making the task of breathing most
+      difficult. To Madeline the time seemed to fly with the speed of miles. A
+      moment came when she detected a faint difference in hum and rush and
+      vibration, in the ceaseless sweeping of the invisible weight against her.
+      This difference became marked. Link was reducing speed. Then came swift
+      change of all sensation, and she realized the car had slowed to normal
+      travel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline removed her hood and goggles. It was a relief to breathe freely,
+      to be able to use her eyes. To her right, not far distant, lay the little
+      town of Chiricahua. Sight of it made her remember Stewart in a way strange
+      to her constant thought of him. To the left inclined the gray valley. The
+      red desert was hidden from view, but the Guadalupe Mountains loomed close
+      in the southwest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Opposite Chiricahua, where the road forked, Link Stevens headed the car
+      straight south and gradually increased speed. Madeline faced another
+      endless gray incline. It was the San Bernardino Valley. The singing of the
+      car, the stinging of the wind warned her to draw the hood securely down
+      over her face again, and then it was as if she was riding at night. The
+      car lurched ahead, settled into that driving speed which wedged Madeline
+      back as in a vise. Again the moments went by fleet as the miles.
+      Seemingly, there was an acceleration of the car till it reached a certain
+      swiftness—a period of time in which it held that pace, and then a
+      diminishing of all motion and sound which contributed to Madeline’s acute
+      sensation. Uncovering her face, she saw Link was passing another village.
+      Could it be Bernardino? She asked Link—repeated the question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Sure,” he replied. “Eighty miles.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Link did not this time apologize for the work of his machine. Madeline
+      marked the omission with her first thrill of the ride. Leaning over, she
+      glanced at Link’s watch, which he had fastened upon the wheel in front of
+      his eyes. A quarter to ten! Link had indeed made short work of the valley
+      miles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beyond Bernardino Link sheered off the road and put the car to a long,
+      low-rising slope. Here the valley appeared to run south under the dark
+      brows of the Guadalupes. Link was heading southwest. Madeline observed
+      that the grass began to fail as they climbed the ridge; bare, white, dusty
+      spots appeared; there were patches of mesquite and cactus and scattering
+      areas of broken rock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She might have been prepared for what she saw from the ridge-top. Beneath
+      them the desert blazed. Seen from afar, it was striking enough, but riding
+      down into its red jaws gave Madeline the first affront to her imperious
+      confidence. All about her ranch had been desert, the valleys were desert;
+      but this was different. Here began the red desert, extending far into
+      Mexico, far across Arizona and California to the Pacific. She saw a bare,
+      hummocky ridge, down which the car was gliding, bounding, swinging, and
+      this long slant seemed to merge into a corrugated world of rock and sand,
+      patched by flats and basins, streaked with canyons and ranges of ragged,
+      saw-toothed stone. The distant Sierra Madres were clearer, bluer, less
+      smoky and suggestive of mirage than she had ever seen them. Madeline’s
+      sustaining faith upheld her in the face of this appalling obstacle. Then
+      the desert that had rolled its immensity beneath her gradually began to
+      rise, to lose its distant margins, to condense its varying lights and
+      shades, at last to hide its yawning depths and looming heights behind red
+      ridges, which were only little steps, little outposts, little landmarks at
+      its gates.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bouncing of the huge car, throwing Madeline up, directed her attention
+      and fastened it upon the way Link Stevens was driving and upon the
+      immediate foreground. Then she discovered that he was following an old
+      wagon-road. At the foot of that long slope they struck into rougher
+      ground, and here Link took to a cautious zigzag course. The wagon-road
+      disappeared and then presently reappeared. But Link did not always hold to
+      it. He made cuts, detours, crosses, and all the time seemed to be getting
+      deeper into a maze of low, red dunes, of flat canyon-beds lined by banks
+      of gravel, of ridges mounting higher. Yet Link Stevens kept on and never
+      turned back. He never headed into a place that he could not pass. Up to
+      this point of travel he had not been compelled to back the car, and
+      Madeline began to realize that it was the cowboy’s wonderful judgment of
+      ground that made advance possible. He knew the country; he was never at a
+      loss; after making a choice of direction, he never hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then at the bottom of a wide canyon he entered a wash where the wheels
+      just barely turned in dragging sand. The sun beat down white-hot, the dust
+      arose, there was not a breath of wind; and no sound save the slide of a
+      rock now and then down the weathered slopes and the labored chugging of
+      the machine. The snail pace, like the sand at the wheels, began to drag at
+      Madeline’s faith. Link gave over the wheel to Madeline, and, leaping out,
+      he called Nels. When they untied the long planks and laid them straight in
+      front for the wheels to pass over Madeline saw how wise had been Link’s
+      forethought. With the aid of those planks they worked the car through sand
+      and gravel otherwise impossible to pass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This canyon widened and opened into space affording an unobstructed view
+      for miles. The desert sloped up in steps, and in the morning light, with
+      the sun bright on the mesas and escarpments, it was gray, drab, stone,
+      slate, yellow, pink, and, dominating all, a dull rust-red. There was level
+      ground ahead, a wind-swept floor as hard as rock. Link rushed the car over
+      this free distance. Madeline’s ears filled with a droning hum like the
+      sound of a monstrous, hungry bee and with a strange, incessant crinkle
+      which she at length guessed to be the spreading of sheets of gravel from
+      under the wheels. The giant car attained such a speed that Madeline could
+      only distinguish the colored landmarks to the fore, and these faded as the
+      wind stung her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Link began the ascent of the first step, a long, sweeping, barren
+      waste with dunes of wonderful violet and heliotrope hues. Here were
+      well-defined marks of an old wagon-road lately traversed by cattle. The
+      car climbed steadily, surmounted the height, faced another long bench that
+      had been cleaned smooth by desert winds. The sky was an intense, light,
+      steely blue, hard on the eyes. Madeline veiled her face, and did not
+      uncover it until Link had reduced the racing speed. From the summit of the
+      next ridge she saw more red ruin of desert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A deep wash crossing the road caused Link Stevens to turn due south. There
+      was a narrow space along the wash just wide enough for the car. Link
+      seemed oblivious to the fact that the outside wheels were perilously close
+      to the edge. Madeline heard the rattle of loosened gravel and earth
+      sliding into the gully. The wash widened and opened out into a sandy flat.
+      Link crossed this and turned up on the opposite side. Rocks impeded the
+      progress of the car, and these had to be rolled out of the way. The
+      shelves of silt, apparently ready to slide with the slightest weight, the
+      little tributary washes, the boulder-strewn stretches of slope, the narrow
+      spaces allowing no more than a foot for the outside wheels, the
+      spear-pointed cactus that had to be avoided—all these obstacles were
+      as nothing to the cowboy driver. He kept on, and when he came to the road
+      again he made up for the lost time by speed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another height was reached, and here Madeline fancied that Link had driven
+      the car to the summit of a high pass between two mountain ranges. The
+      western slope of that pass appeared to be exceedingly rough and broken.
+      Below it spread out another gray valley, at the extreme end of which
+      glistened a white spot that Link grimly called Douglas. Part of that white
+      spot was Agua Prieta, the sister town across the line. Madeline looked
+      with eyes that would fain have pierced the intervening distance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The descent of the pass began under difficulties. Sharp stones and cactus
+      spikes penetrated the front tires, bursting them with ripping reports. It
+      took time to replace them. The planks were called into requisition to
+      cross soft places. A jagged point of projecting rock had to be broken with
+      a sledge. At length a huge stone appeared to hinder any further advance.
+      Madeline caught her breath. There was no room to turn the car. But Link
+      Stevens had no intention of such a thing. He backed the car to a
+      considerable distance, then walked forward. He appeared to be busy around
+      the boulder for a moment and returned down the road on the run. A heavy
+      explosion, a cloud of dust, and a rattle of falling fragments told
+      Madeline that her indomitable driver had cleared a passage with dynamite.
+      He seemed to be prepared for every emergency. Madeline looked to see what
+      effect the discovery of Link carrying dynamite would have upon the silent
+      Nels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Shore, now, Miss Majesty, there ain’t nothin’ goin’ to stop Link,” said
+      Nels, with a reassuring smile. The significance of the incident had not
+      dawned upon Nels, or else he was heedless of it. After all, he was afraid
+      only of the car and Link, and that fear was an idiosyncrasy. Madeline
+      began to see her cowboy driver with clearer eyes and his spirit awoke
+      something in her that made danger of no moment. Nels likewise subtly
+      responded, and, though he was gray-faced, tight-lipped, his eyes took on
+      the cool, bright gleam of Link’s.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cactus barred the way, rocks barred the way, gullies barred the way, and
+      these Nels addressed in the grim humor with which he was wont to view
+      tragic things. A mistake on Link’s part, a slip of a wheel, a bursting of
+      a tire at a critical moment, an instant of the bad luck which might happen
+      a hundred times on a less perilous ride—any one of these might spell
+      disaster for the car, perhaps death to the occupants. Again and again Link
+      used the planks to cross washes in sand. Sometimes the wheels ran all the
+      length of the planks, sometimes slipped off. Presently Link came to a
+      ditch where water had worn deep into the road. Without hesitation he
+      placed them, measuring distance carefully, and then started across. The
+      danger was in ditching the machine. One of the planks split, sagged a
+      little, but Link made the crossing without a slip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The road led round under an overhanging cliff and was narrow, rocky, and
+      slightly downhill. Bidding Madeline and Nels walk round this hazardous
+      corner, Link drove the car. Madeline expected to hear it crash down into
+      the canyon, but presently she saw Link waiting to take them aboard again.
+      Then came steeper parts of the road, places that Link could run down if he
+      had space below to control the car, and on the other hand places where the
+      little inclines ended in abrupt ledges upon one side or a declivity upon
+      the other. Here the cowboy, with ropes on the wheels and half-hitches upon
+      the spurs of rock, let the car slide down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once at a particularly bad spot Madeline exclaimed involuntarily, “Oh,
+      time is flying!” Link Stevens looked up at her as if he had been reproved
+      for his care. His eyes shone like the glint of steel on ice. Perhaps that
+      utterance of Madeline’s was needed to liberate his recklessness to its
+      utmost. Certainly he put the car to seemingly impossible feats. He rimmed
+      gullies, he hurdled rising ground, he leaped little breaks in the even
+      road. He made his machine cling like a goat to steep inclines; he rounded
+      corners with the inside wheels higher than the outside; he passed over
+      banks of soft earth that caved in the instant he crossed weak places. He
+      kept on and on, threading tortuous passages through rock-strewn patches,
+      keeping to the old road where it was clear, abandoning it for open spaces,
+      and always going down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length a mile of clean, brown slope, ridged and grooved like a
+      washboard, led gently down to meet the floor of the valley, where the
+      scant grama-grass struggled to give a tinge of gray. The road appeared to
+      become more clearly defined, and could be seen striking straight across
+      the valley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To Madeline’s dismay, that road led down to a deep, narrow wash. It
+      plunged on one side, ascended on the other at a still steeper angle. The
+      crossing would have been laborsome for a horse; for an automobile it was
+      unpassable. Link turned the car to the right along the rim and drove as
+      far along the wash as the ground permitted. The gully widened, deepened
+      all the way. Then he took the other direction. When he made this turn
+      Madeline observed that the sun had perceptibly begun its slant westward.
+      It shone in her face, glaring and wrathful. Link drove back to the road,
+      crossed it, and kept on down the line of the wash. It was a deep cut in
+      red earth, worn straight down by swift water in the rainy seasons. It
+      narrowed. In some places it was only five feet wide. Link studied these
+      points and looked up the slope, and seemed to be making deductions. The
+      valley was level now, and there were nothing but little breaks in the rim
+      of the wash. Link drove mile after mile, looking for a place to cross, and
+      there was none. Finally progress to the south was obstructed by impassable
+      gullies where the wash plunged into the head of a canyon. It was necessary
+      to back the car a distance before there was room to turn. Madeline looked
+      at the imperturbable driver. His face revealed no more than the same old
+      hard, immutable character. When he reached the narrowest points, which had
+      so interested him, he got out of the car and walked from place to place.
+      Once with a little jump he cleared the wash. Then Madeline noted that the
+      farther rim was somewhat lower. In a flash she divined Link’s intention.
+      He was hunting a place to jump the car over the crack in the ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon he found one that seemed to suit him, for he tied his red scarf upon
+      a greasewood-bush. Then, returning to the car, he clambered in, and,
+      muttering, broke his long silence: “This ain’t no air-ship, but I’ve
+      outfiggered thet damn wash.” He backed up the gentle slope and halted just
+      short of steeper ground. His red scarf waved in the wind. Hunching low
+      over the wheel, he started, slowly at first, then faster, and then faster.
+      The great car gave a spring like a huge tiger. The impact of suddenly
+      formed wind almost tore Madeline out of her seat. She felt Nels’s powerful
+      hands on her shoulders. She closed her eyes. The jolting headway of the
+      car gave place to a gliding rush. This was broken by a slight jar, and
+      then above the hum and roar rose a cowboy yell. Madeline waited with
+      strained nerves for the expected crash. It did not come. Opening her eyes,
+      she saw the level valley floor without a break. She had not even noticed
+      the instant when the car had shot over the wash.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A strange breathlessness attacked her, and she attributed it to the
+      celerity with which she was being carried along. Pulling the hood down
+      over her face, she sank low in the seat. The whir of the car now seemed to
+      be a world-filling sound. Again the feeling of excitement, the poignancy
+      of emotional heights, the ever-present impending sense of catastrophe
+      became held in abeyance to the sheer intensity of physical sensations.
+      There came a time when all her strength seemed to unite in an effort to
+      lift her breast against the terrific force of the wind—to draw air
+      into her flattened lungs. She became partly dazed. The darkness before her
+      eyes was not all occasioned by the blood that pressed like a stone mask on
+      her face. She had a sense that she was floating, sailing, drifting,
+      reeling, even while being borne swiftly as a thunderbolt. Her hands and
+      arms were immovable under the weight of mountains. There was a long, blank
+      period from which she awakened to feel an arm supporting her. Then she
+      rallied. The velocity of the car had been cut to the speed to which she
+      was accustomed. Throwing back the hood, she breathed freely again,
+      recovered fully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The car was bowling along a wide road upon the outskirts of a city.
+      Madeline asked what place it could be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Douglas,” replied Link. “An’ jest around is Agua Prieta!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That last name seemed to stun Madeline. She heard no more, and saw little
+      until the car stopped. Nels spoke to some one. Then sight of khaki-clad
+      soldiers quickened Madeline’s faculties. She was on the boundary-line
+      between the United States and Mexico, and Agua Prieta, with its white and
+      blue walled houses, its brown-tiled roofs, lay before her. A soldier,
+      evidently despatched by Nels, returned and said an officer would come at
+      once. Madeline’s attention was centered in the foreground, upon the guard
+      over the road, upon the dry, dusty town beyond; but she was aware of noise
+      and people in the rear. A cavalry officer approached the car, stared, and
+      removed his sombrero.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Can you tell me anything about Stewart, the American cowboy who was
+      captured by rebels a few days ago?” asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes,” replied the officer. “There was a skirmish over the line between a
+      company of Federals and a large force of guerrillas and rebels. The
+      Federals were driven west along the line. Stewart is reported to have done
+      reckless fighting and was captured. He got a Mexican sentence. He is known
+      here along the border, and the news of his capture stirred up excitement.
+      We did all we could to get his release. The guerrillas feared to execute
+      him here, and believed he might be aided to escape. So a detachment
+      departed with him for Mezquital.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “He was sentenced to be shot Thursday at sunset—to-night?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes. It was rumored there was a personal resentment against Stewart. I
+      regret that I can’t give you definite information. If you are friends of
+      Stewart—relatives—I might find—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I am his wife,” interrupted Madeline. “Will you please read these.” She
+      handed him the telegrams. “Advise me—help me, if you can?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With a wondering glance at her the officer received the telegrams. He read
+      several, and whistled low in amaze. His manner became quick, alert,
+      serious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I can’t read these written in Spanish, but I know the names signed.”
+       Swiftly he ran through the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Why, these mean Stewart’s release has been authorized. They explain
+      mysterious rumors we have heard here. Greaser treachery! For some strange
+      reason messages from the rebel junta have failed to reach their
+      destination. We heard reports of an exchange for Stewart, but nothing came
+      of it. No one departed for Mezquital with authority. What an outrage!
+      Come, I’ll go with you to General Salazar, the rebel chief in command. I
+      know him. Perhaps we can find out something.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels made room for the officer. Link sent the car whirring across the line
+      into Mexican territory. Madeline’s sensibilities were now exquisitely
+      alive. The white road led into Agua Prieta, a town of colored walls and
+      roofs. Goats and pigs and buzzards scattered before the roar of the
+      machine. Native women wearing black mantles peeped through iron-barred
+      windows. Men wearing huge sombreros, cotton shirts and trousers, bright
+      sashes round their waists, and sandals, stood motionless, watching the car
+      go by. The road ended in an immense plaza, in the center of which was a
+      circular structure that in some measure resembled a corral. It was a
+      bull-ring, where the national sport of bull-fighting was carried on. Just
+      now it appeared to be quarters for a considerable army. Ragged, unkempt
+      rebels were everywhere, and the whole square was littered with tents,
+      packs, wagons, arms. There were horses, mules, burros, and oxen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The place was so crowded that Link was compelled to drive slowly up to the
+      entrance to the bull-ring. Madeline caught a glimpse of tents inside, then
+      her view was obstructed by a curious, pressing throng. The cavalry officer
+      leaped from the car and pushed his way into the entrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Link, do you know the road to this Mezquital?” asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Yes. I’ve been there.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “How far is it?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Aw, not so very far,” he mumbled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Link! How many miles?” she implored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “I reckon only a few.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline knew that he lied. She asked him no more; nor looked at him, nor
+      at Nels. How stifling was this crowded, ill-smelling plaza! The sun, red
+      and lowering, had sloped far down in the west, but still burned with
+      furnace heat. A swarm of flies whirled over the car. The shadows of
+      low-sailing buzzards crossed Madeline’s sight. Then she saw a row of the
+      huge, uncanny black birds sitting upon the tiled roof of a house. They had
+      neither an air of sleeping nor resting. They were waiting. She fought off
+      a horrible ghastly idea before its full realization. These rebels and
+      guerrillas—what lean, yellow, bearded wretches! They curiously
+      watched Link as he went working over the car. No two were alike, and all
+      were ragged. They had glittering eyes sunk deep in their heads. They wore
+      huge sombreros of brown and black felt, of straw, of cloth. Every man wore
+      a belt or sash into which was thrust some kind of weapon. Some wore boots,
+      some shoes, some moccasins, some sandals, and many were barefooted. They
+      were an excited, jabbering, gesticulating mob. Madeline shuddered to think
+      how a frenzy to spill blood could run through these poor revolutionists.
+      If it was liberty they fought for, they did not show the intelligence in
+      their faces. They were like wolves upon a scent. They affronted her,
+      shocked her. She wondered if their officers were men of the same class.
+      What struck her at last and stirred pity in her was the fact that every
+      man of the horde her swift glance roamed over, however dirty and
+      bedraggled he was, wore upon him some ornament, some tassel or fringe or
+      lace, some ensign, some band, bracelet, badge, or belt, some twist of
+      scarf, something that betrayed the vanity which was the poor jewel of
+      their souls. It was in the race.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the crowd parted to let the cavalry officer and a rebel of
+      striking presence get to the car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Madam, it is as I suspected,” said the officer, quickly. “The messages
+      directing Stewart’s release never reached Salazar. They were intercepted.
+      But even without them we might have secured Stewart’s exchange if it had
+      not been for the fact that one of his captors wanted him shot. This
+      guerrilla intercepted the orders, and then was instrumental in taking
+      Stewart to Mezquital. It is exceedingly sad. Why, he should be a free man
+      this instant. I regret—”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Who did this—this thing?” cried Madeline, cold and sick. “Who is
+      the guerrilla?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senor Don Carlos Martinez. He has been a bandit, a man of influence in
+      Sonora. He is more of a secret agent in the affairs of the revolution than
+      an active participator. But he has seen guerrilla service.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Don Carlos! Stewart in his power! O God!” Madeline sank down, almost
+      overcome. Then two great hands, powerful, thrilling, clasped her
+      shoulders, and Nels bent over her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Miss Majesty, shore we’re wastin’ time here,” he said. His voice, like
+      his hands, was uplifting. She wheeled to him in trembling importunity. How
+      cold, bright, blue the flash of his eyes! They told Madeline she must not
+      weaken. But she could not speak her thought to Nels—could only look
+      at Link.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It figgers impossible, but I’ll do it!” said Link Stevens, in answer to
+      her voiceless query. The cold, grim, wild something about her cowboys
+      blanched Madeline’s face, steeled her nerve, called to the depths of her
+      for that last supreme courage of a woman. The spirit of the moment was
+      nature with Link and Nels; with her it must be passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Can I get a permit to go into the interior—to Mezquital?” asked
+      Madeline of the officer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “You are going on? Madam, it’s a forlorn hope. Mezquital is a hundred
+      miles away. But there’s a chance—the barest chance if your man can
+      drive this car. The Mexicans are either murderous or ceremonious in their
+      executions. The arrangements for Stewart’s will be elaborate. But, barring
+      unusual circumstances, it will take place precisely at the hour
+      designated. You need no permit. Your messages are official papers. But to
+      save time, perhaps delay, I suggest you take this Mexican, Senor Montes,
+      with you. He outranks Don Carlos and knows the captain of the Mezquital
+      detachment.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ah! Then Don Carlos is not in command of the forces holding Stewart?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “No.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “I thank you, sir. I shall not forget your kindness,” concluded Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She bowed to Senor Montes, and requested him to enter the car. Nels stowed
+      some of the paraphernalia away, making room in the rear seat. Link bent
+      over the wheel. The start was so sudden, with such crack and roar, that
+      the crowd split in wild disorder. Out of the plaza the car ran, gathering
+      headway; down a street lined by white and blue walls; across a square
+      where rebels were building barricades; along a railroad track full of iron
+      flat-cars that carried mounted pieces of artillery; through the outlying
+      guards, who waved to the officer, Montes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline bound her glasses tightly over her eyes, and wound veils round
+      the lower part of her face. She was all in a strange glow, she had begun
+      to burn, to throb, to thrill, to expand, and she meant to see all that was
+      possible. The sullen sun, red as fire, hung over the mountain range in the
+      west. How low it had sunk! Before her stretched a narrow, white road,
+      dusty, hard as stone—a highway that had been used for centuries. If
+      it had been wide enough to permit passing a vehicle it would have been a
+      magnificent course for automobiles. But the weeds and the dusty flowers
+      and the mesquite boughs and arms of cactus brushed the car as it sped by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Faster, faster, faster! That old resistless weight began to press Madeline
+      back; the old incessant bellow of wind filled her ears. Link Stevens
+      hunched low over the wheel. His eyes were hidden under leather helmet and
+      goggles, but the lower part of his face was unprotected. He resembled a
+      demon, so dark and stone-hard and strangely grinning was he. All at once
+      Madeline realized how matchless, how wonderful a driver was this cowboy.
+      She divined that weakening could not have been possible to Link Stevens.
+      He was a cowboy, and he really was riding that car, making it answer to
+      his will, as it had been born in him to master a horse. He had never
+      driven to suit himself, had never reached an all-satisfying speed until
+      now. Beyond that his motive was to save Stewart—to make Madeline
+      happy. Life was nothing to him. That fact gave him the superhuman nerve to
+      face the peril of this ride. Because of his disregard of self he was able
+      to operate the machine, to choose the power, the speed, the guidance, the
+      going with the best judgment and highest efficiency possible. Madeline
+      knew he would get her to Mezquital in time to save Stewart or he would
+      kill her in the attempt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The white, narrow road flashed out of the foreground, slipped with
+      inconceivable rapidity under the car. When she marked a clump of cactus
+      far ahead it seemed to shoot at her, to speed behind her even the instant
+      she noticed it. Nevertheless, Madeline knew Link was not putting the car
+      to its limit. Swiftly as he was flying, he held something in reserve. But
+      he took the turns of the road as if he knew the way was cleared before
+      him. He trusted to a cowboy’s luck. A wagon in one of those curves, a herd
+      of cattle, even a frightened steer, meant a wreck. Madeline never closed
+      her eyes at these fateful moments. If Link could stake himself, the
+      others, and her upon such chance, what could not she stake with her
+      motive? So while the great car hummed and thrummed, and darted round the
+      curves on two wheels, and sped on like a bullet, Madeline lived that ride,
+      meant to feel it to the uttermost.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was not all swift going. A stretch of softer ground delayed Link,
+      made the car labor and pant and pound and grind through gravel. Moreover,
+      the cactus plants assumed an alarming ability to impede progress. Long,
+      slender arms of the ocotillo encroached upon the road; broad, round leaves
+      did likewise; fluted columns, fallen like timbers in a forest, lay along
+      the narrow margins; the bayonet cactus and the bisnagi leaned
+      threateningly; clusters of maguey, shadowed by the huge, looming saguaro,
+      infringed upon the highway to Mezquital. And every leaf and blade and
+      branch of cactus bore wicked thorns, any one of which would be fatal to a
+      tire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It came at length, the bursting report. The car lurched, went on like a
+      crippled thing, and halted, obedient to the master hand at the wheel.
+      Swift as Link was in replacing the tire, he lost time. The red sun, more
+      sullen, duskier as it neared the black, bold horizon, appeared to mock
+      Madeline, to eye her in derision.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Link leaped in, and the car sprang ahead. The road-bed changed, the trees
+      changed—all the surroundings changed except the cactus. There were
+      miles of rolling ridges, rough in the hollows, and short rocky bits of
+      road, and washes to cross, and a low, sandy swale where mesquites grouped
+      a forest along a trickling inch-deep sheet of water. Green things softened
+      the hard, dry aspect of the desert. There were birds and parrots and deer
+      and wild boars. All these Madeline remarked with clear eyes, with
+      remarkable susceptibility of attention; but what she strained to see, what
+      she yearned for, prayed for, was straight, unobstructed road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the road began to wind up; it turned and twisted in tantalizing lazy
+      curves; it was in no hurry to surmount a hill that began to assume
+      proportions of a mountain; it was leisurely, as were all things in Mexico
+      except strife. That was quick, fierce, bloody—it was Spanish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The descent from that elevation was difficult, extremely hazardous, yet
+      Link Stevens drove fast. At the base of the hill rocks and sand all but
+      halted him for good. Then in taking an abrupt curve a grasping spear
+      ruined another tire. This time the car rasped across the road into the
+      cactus, bursting the second front-wheel tire. Like demons indeed Link and
+      Nels worked. Shuddering, Madeline felt the declining heat of the sun, saw
+      with gloomy eyes the shading of the red light over the desert. She did not
+      look back to see how near the sun was to the horizon. She wanted to ask
+      Nels. Strange as anything on this terrible ride was the absence of speech.
+      As yet no word had been spoken. Madeline wanted to shriek to Link to
+      hurry. But he was more than humanly swift in all his actions. So with mute
+      lips, with the fire in her beginning to chill, with a lifelessness
+      menacing her spirit, she watched, hoped against hope, prayed for a long,
+      straight, smooth road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Quite suddenly she saw it, seemingly miles of clear, narrow lane
+      disappearing like a thin, white streak in distant green. Perhaps Link
+      Stevens’s heart leaped like Madeline’s. The huge car with a roar and a
+      jerk seemed to answer Madeline’s call, a cry no less poignant because it
+      was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Faster, faster, faster! The roar became a whining hum. Then for Madeline
+      sound ceased to be anything—she could not hear. The wind was now
+      heavy, imponderable, no longer a swift, plastic thing, but solid, like an
+      on-rushing wall. It bore down upon Madeline with such resistless weight
+      that she could not move. The green of desert plants along the road merged
+      in two shapeless fences, sliding at her from the distance. Objects ahead
+      began to blur the white road, to grow streaky, like rays of light, the sky
+      to take on more of a reddening haze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, realizing her sight was failing her, turned for one more look at
+      Link Stevens. It had come to be his ride almost as much as it was hers. He
+      hunched lower than ever, rigid, strained to the last degree, a terrible,
+      implacable driver. This was his hour, and he was great. If he so much as
+      brushed a flying tire against one of the millions of spikes clutching out,
+      striking out from the cactus, there would be a shock, a splitting wave of
+      air—an end. Madeline thought she saw that Link’s bulging cheek and
+      jaw were gray, that his tight-shut lips were white, that the smile was
+      gone. Then he really was human—not a demon. She felt a strange sense
+      of brotherhood. He understood a woman’s soul as Monty Price had understood
+      it. Link was the lightning-forged automaton, the driving, relentless,
+      unconquerable instrument of a woman’s will. He was a man whose force was
+      directed by a woman’s passion. He reached up to her height, felt her love,
+      understood the nature of her agony. These made him heroic. But it was the
+      hard life, the wild years of danger on the desert, the companionship of
+      ruthless men, the elemental, that made possible his physical achievement.
+      Madeline loved his spirit then and gloried in the man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had pictured upon her heart, never to be forgotten, this little
+      hunched, deformed figure of Link’s hanging with dauntless, with deathless
+      grip over the wheel, his gray face like a marble mask.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was Madeline’s last clear sensation upon the ride. Blinded, dazed,
+      she succumbed to the demands upon her strength. She reeled, fell back,
+      only vaguely aware of a helping hand. Confusion seized her senses. All
+      about her was a dark chaos through which she was rushing, rushing, rushing
+      under the wrathful red eye of a setting sun. Then, as there was no more
+      sound or sight for her, she felt there was no color. But the rush never
+      slackened—a rush through opaque, limitless space. For moments,
+      hours, ages she was propelled with the velocity of a shooting-star. The
+      earth seemed a huge automobile. And it sped with her down an endless white
+      track through the universe. Looming, ghostly, ghastly, spectral forms of
+      cacti plants, large as pine-trees, stabbed her with giant spikes. She
+      became an unstable being in a shapeless, colorless, soundless cosmos of
+      unrelated things, but always rushing, even to meet the darkness that
+      haunted her and never reached her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But at an end of infinite time that rush ceased. Madeline lost the queer
+      feeling of being disembodied by a frightfully swift careening through
+      boundless distance. She distinguished voices, low at first, apparently far
+      away. Then she opened her eyes to blurred but conscious sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The car had come to a stop. Link was lying face down over the wheel. Nels
+      was rubbing her hands, calling to her. She saw a house with clean
+      whitewashed wall and brown-tiled roof. Beyond, over a dark mountain range,
+      peeped the last red curve, the last beautiful ray of the setting sun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a id="link2H_4_0026">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br><br><br><br>
+    </div>
+    <div class='chapter'><h2>
+      XXV. At the End of the Road
+    </h2></div>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw that the car was surrounded by armed Mexicans. They presented
+      a contrast to the others she had seen that day; she wondered a little at
+      their silence, at their respectful front.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly a sharp spoken order opened up the ranks next to the house. Senor
+      Montes appeared in the break, coming swiftly. His dark face wore a smile;
+      his manner was courteous, important, authoritative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senora, it is not too late!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke her language with an accent strange to her, so that it seemed to
+      hinder understanding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senora, you got here in time,” he went on. “El Capitan Stewart will be
+      free.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Free!” she whispered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She rose, reeling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Come,” replied Montes, taking her arm. “Perdoneme, Senora.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Without his assistance she would have fallen wholly upon Nels, who
+      supported her on the other side. They helped her alight from the car. For
+      a moment the white walls, the hazy red sky, the dark figures of the
+      rebels, whirled before Madeline’s eyes. She took a few steps, swaying
+      between her escorts; then the confusion of her sight and mind passed away.
+      It was as if she quickened with a thousand vivifying currents, as if she
+      could see and hear and feel everything in the world, as if nothing could
+      be overlooked, forgotten, neglected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned back, remembering Link. He was lurching from the car, helmet
+      and goggles thrust back, the gray shade gone from his face, the cool,
+      bright gleam of his eyes disappearing for something warmer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Senor Montes led Madeline and her cowboys through a hall to a patio, and
+      on through a large room with flooring of rough, bare boards that rattled,
+      into a smaller room full of armed quiet rebels facing an open window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline scanned the faces of these men, expecting to see Don Carlos. But
+      he was not present. A soldier addressed her in Spanish too swiftly
+      uttered, too voluble for her to translate. But, like Senor Montes, he was
+      gracious and, despite his ragged garb and uncouth appearance, he bore the
+      unmistakable stamp of authority.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montes directed Madeline’s attention to a man by the window. A loose scarf
+      of vivid red hung from his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senora, they were waiting for the sun to set when we arrived,” said
+      Montes. “The signal was about to be given for Senor Stewart’s walk to
+      death.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Stewart’s walk!” echoed Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Ah, Senora, let me tell you his sentence—the sentence I have had
+      the honor and happiness to revoke for you.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart had been court-martialed and sentenced according to a Mexican
+      custom observed in cases of brave soldiers to whom honorable and fitting
+      executions were due. His hour had been set for Thursday when the sun had
+      sunk. Upon signal he was to be liberated and was free to walk out into the
+      road, to take any direction he pleased. He knew his sentence; knew that
+      death awaited him, that every possible avenue of escape was blocked by men
+      with rifles ready. But he had not the slightest idea at what moment or
+      from what direction the bullets were to come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senora, we have sent messengers to every squad of waiting soldiers—an
+      order that El Capitan is not to be shot. He is ignorant of his release. I
+      shall give the signal for his freedom.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montes was ceremonious, gallant, emotional. Madeline saw his pride, and
+      divined that the situation was one which brought out the vanity, the
+      ostentation, as well as the cruelty of his race. He would keep her in an
+      agony of suspense, let Stewart start upon that terrible walk in ignorance
+      of his freedom. It was the motive of a Spaniard. Suddenly Madeline had a
+      horrible quaking fear that Montes lied, that he meant her to be a witness
+      of Stewart’s execution. But no, the man was honest; he was only barbarous.
+      He would satisfy certain instincts of his nature—sentiment, romance,
+      cruelty—by starting Stewart upon that walk, by watching Stewart’s
+      actions in the face of seeming death, by seeing Madeline’s agony of doubt,
+      fear, pity, love. Almost Madeline felt that she could not endure the
+      situation. She was weak and tottering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Senora! Ah, it will be one beautiful thing!” Montes caught the scarf from
+      the rebel’s hand. He was glowing, passionate; his eyes had a strange,
+      soft, cold flash; his voice was low, intense. He was living something
+      splendid to him. “I’ll wave the scarf, Senora. That will be the signal. It
+      will be seen down at the other end of the road. Senor Stewart’s jailer
+      will see the signal, take off Stewart’s irons, release him, open the door
+      for his walk. Stewart will be free. But he will not know. He will expect
+      death. As he is a brave man, he will face it. He will walk this way. Every
+      step of that walk he will expect to be shot from some unknown quarter. But
+      he will not be afraid. Senora, I have seen El Captain fighting in the
+      field. What is death to him? Ah, will it not be magnificent to see him
+      come forth—to walk down? Senora, you will see what a man he is. All
+      the way he will expect cold, swift death. Here at this end of the road he
+      will meet his beautiful lady!”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Is there no—no possibility of a mistake?” faltered Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “None. My order included unloading of rifles.”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “Don Carlos?”
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      “He is in irons, and must answer to General Salazar,” replied Montes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline looked down the deserted road. How strange to see the last ruddy
+      glow of the sun over the brow of the mountain range! The thought of that
+      sunset had been torture for her. Yet it had passed, and now the
+      afterlights were luminous, beautiful, prophetic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a heart stricken by both joy and agony, she saw Montes wave the
+      scarf.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she waited. No change manifested itself down the length of that
+      lonely road. There was absolute silence in the room behind her. How
+      terribly, infinitely long seemed the waiting! Never in all her future life
+      would she forget the quaint pink, blue, and white walled houses with their
+      colored roofs. That dusty bare road resembled one of the uncovered streets
+      of Pompeii with its look of centuries of solitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly a door opened and a tall man stepped out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline recognized Stewart. She had to place both hands on the
+      window-sill for support, while a storm of emotion swayed her. Like a
+      retreating wave it rushed away. Stewart lived. He was free. He had stepped
+      out into the light. She had saved him. Life changed for her in that
+      instant of realization and became sweet, full, strange.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart shook hands with some one in the doorway. Then he looked up and
+      down the road. The door closed behind him. Leisurely he rolled a
+      cigarette, stood close to the wall while he scratched a match. Even at
+      that distance Madeline’s keen eyes caught the small flame, the first
+      little puff of smoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart then took to the middle of the road and leisurely began his walk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To Madeline he appeared natural, walked as unconcernedly as if he were
+      strolling for pleasure; but the absence of any other living thing, the
+      silence, the red haze, the surcharged atmosphere—these were all
+      unnatural. From time to time Stewart stopped to turn face forward toward
+      houses and corners. Only silence greeted these significant moves of his.
+      Once he halted to roll and light another cigarette. After that his step
+      quickened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline watched him, with pride, love, pain, glory combating for a
+      mastery over her. This walk of his seemingly took longer than all her
+      hours of awakening, of strife, of remorse, longer than the ride to find
+      him. She felt that it would be impossible for her to wait till he reached
+      the end of the road. Yet in the hurry and riot of her feelings she had
+      fleeting panics. What could she say to him? How meet him? Well she
+      remembered the tall, powerful form now growing close enough to distinguish
+      its dress. Stewart’s face was yet only a dark gleam. Soon she would see it—long
+      before he could know she was there. She wanted to run to meet him.
+      Nevertheless, she stood rooted to her covert behind the window, living
+      that terrible walk with him to the uttermost thought of home, sister,
+      mother, sweetheart, wife, life itself—every thought that could come
+      to a man stalking to meet his executioners. With all that tumult in her
+      mind and heart Madeline still fell prey to the incomprehensible variations
+      of emotion possible to a woman. Every step Stewart took thrilled her. She
+      had some strange, subtle intuition that he was not unhappy, and that he
+      believed beyond shadow of doubt that he was walking to his death. His
+      steps dragged a little, though they had begun to be swift. The old, hard,
+      physical, wild nerve of the cowboy was perhaps in conflict with spiritual
+      growth of the finer man, realizing too late that life ought not to be
+      sacrificed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the dark gleam that was his face took shape, grew sharper and
+      clearer. He was stalking now, and there was a suggestion of impatience in
+      his stride. It took these hidden Mexicans a long time to kill him! At a
+      point in the middle of the road, even with the corner of a house and
+      opposite to Madeline’s position, Stewart halted stock-still. He presented
+      a fair, bold mark to his executioners, and he stood there motionless a
+      full moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Only silence greeted him. Plain it was to Madeline, and she thought to all
+      who had eyes to see, that to Stewart, since for some reason he had been
+      spared all along his walk, this was the moment when he ought to be
+      mercifully shot. But as no shots came a rugged dignity left him for a
+      reckless scorn manifest in the way he strolled, across to the corner of
+      the house, rolled yet another cigarette, and, presenting a broad breast to
+      the window, smoked and waited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That wait was almost unendurable for Madeline. Perhaps it was only a
+      moment, several moments at the longest, but the time seemed a year.
+      Stewart’s face was scornful, hard. Did he suspect treachery on the part of
+      his captors, that they meant to play with him as a cat with a mouse, to
+      murder him at leisure? Madeline was sure she caught the old, inscrutable,
+      mocking smile fleeting across his lips. He held that position for what
+      must have been a reasonable time to his mind, then with a laugh and a
+      shrug he threw the cigarette into the road. He shook his head as if at the
+      incomprehensible motives of men who could have no fair reasons now for
+      delay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a sudden violent action that was more than a straightening of his
+      powerful frame. It was the old instinctive violence. Then he faced north.
+      Madeline read his thought, knew he was thinking of her, calling her a last
+      silent farewell. He would serve her to his last breath, leave her free,
+      keep his secret. That picture of him, dark-browed, fire-eyed, strangely
+      sad and strong, sank indelibly into Madeline’s heart of hearts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next instant he was striding forward, to force by bold and scornful
+      presence a speedy fulfilment of his sentence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline stepped into the door, crossed the threshold. Stewart staggered
+      as if indeed the bullets he expected had pierced him in mortal wound. His
+      dark face turned white. His eyes had the rapt stare, the wild fear of a
+      man who saw an apparition, yet who doubted his sight. Perhaps he had
+      called to her as the Mexicans called to their Virgin; perhaps he imagined
+      sudden death had come unawares, and this was her image appearing to him in
+      some other life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “Who—are—you?” he whispered, hoarsely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She tried to lift her hands, failed, tried again, and held them out,
+      trembling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      “It is I. Majesty. Your wife!”
+     </p>
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1095 ***</div>
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+  <head>
+    <title>
+      The Light of Western Stars, by Zane Grey
+    </title>
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+
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+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Light of Western Stars, by Zane Grey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Light of Western Stars
+
+Author: Zane Grey
+
+Release Date: July 27, 2008 [EBook #1095]
+Last Updated: March 10, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Nigel Lacey
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      by Zane Grey
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I. A Gentleman of the Range </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II. A Secret Kept </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III. Sister and Brother </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV. A Ride From Sunrise To Sunset </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V. The Round-Up </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI. A Gift and A Purchase </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII. Her Majesty's Rancho </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII. El Capitan </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX. The New Foreman </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> X. Don Carlos's Vaqueros </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XI. A Band of Guerrillas </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XII. Friends from the East </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIII. Cowboy Golf </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIV. Bandits </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XV. The Mountain Trail </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVI. The Crags </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVII. The Lost Mine of the Padres </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVIII. Bonita </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XIX. Don Carlos </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XX. The Sheriff of El Cajon </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XXI. Unbridled </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXII. The Secret Told </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXIII. The Light of Western Stars </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXIV. The Ride </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXV. At the End of the Road </a>
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      I. A Gentleman of the Range
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When Madeline Hammond stepped from the train at El Cajon, New Mexico, it
+      was nearly midnight, and her first impression was of a huge dark space of
+      cool, windy emptiness, strange and silent, stretching away under great
+      blinking white stars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss, there's no one to meet you,&rdquo; said the conductor, rather anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wired my brother,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;The train being so late&mdash;perhaps
+      he grew tired of waiting. He will be here presently. But, if he should not
+      come&mdash;surely I can find a hotel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's lodgings to be had. Get the station agent to show you. If you'll
+      excuse me&mdash;this is no place for a lady like you to be alone at night.
+      It's a rough little town&mdash;mostly Mexicans, miners, cowboys. And they
+      carouse a lot. Besides, the revolution across the border has stirred up
+      some excitement along the line. Miss, I guess it's safe enough, if you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. I am not in the least afraid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As the train started to glide away Miss Hammond walked towards the dimly
+      lighted station. As she was about to enter she encountered a Mexican with
+      sombrero hiding his features and a blanket mantling his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there any one here to meet Miss Hammond?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No sabe, Senora,&rdquo; he replied from under the muffling blanket, and he
+      shuffled away into the shadow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She entered the empty waiting-room. An oil-lamp gave out a thick yellow
+      light. The ticket window was open, and through it she saw there was
+      neither agent nor operator in the little compartment. A telegraph
+      instrument clicked faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline Hammond stood tapping a shapely foot on the floor, and with some
+      amusement contrasted her reception in El Cajon with what it was when she
+      left a train at the Grand Central. The only time she could remember ever
+      having been alone like this was once when she had missed her maid and her
+      train at a place outside of Versailles&mdash;an adventure that had been a
+      novel and delightful break in the prescribed routine of her
+      much-chaperoned life. She crossed the waiting-room to a window and,
+      holding aside her veil, looked out. At first she could descry only a few
+      dim lights, and these blurred in her sight. As her eyes grew accustomed to
+      the darkness she saw a superbly built horse standing near the window.
+      Beyond was a bare square. Or, if it was a street, it was the widest one
+      Madeline had ever seen. The dim lights shone from low, flat buildings. She
+      made out the dark shapes of many horses, all standing motionless with
+      drooping heads. Through a hole in the window-glass came a cool breeze, and
+      on it breathed a sound that struck coarsely upon her ear&mdash;a
+      discordant mingling of laughter and shout, and the tramp of boots to the
+      hard music of a phonograph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Western revelry,&rdquo; mused Miss Hammond, as she left the window. &ldquo;Now, what
+      to do? I'll wait here. Perhaps the station agent will return soon, or
+      Alfred will come for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she sat down to wait she reviewed the causes which accounted for the
+      remarkable situation in which she found herself. That Madeline Hammond
+      should be alone, at a late hour, in a dingy little Western railroad
+      station, was indeed extraordinary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The close of her debutante year had been marred by the only unhappy
+      experience of her life&mdash;the disgrace of her brother and his leaving
+      home. She dated the beginning of a certain thoughtful habit of mind from
+      that time, and a dissatisfaction with the brilliant life society offered
+      her. The change had been so gradual that it was permanent before she
+      realized it. For a while an active outdoor life&mdash;golf, tennis,
+      yachting&mdash;kept this realization from becoming morbid introspection.
+      There came a time when even these lost charm for her, and then she
+      believed she was indeed ill in mind. Travel did not help her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There had been months of unrest, of curiously painful wonderment that her
+      position, her wealth, her popularity no longer sufficed. She believed she
+      had lived through the dreams and fancies of a girl to become a woman of
+      the world. And she had gone on as before, a part of the glittering show,
+      but no longer blind to the truth&mdash;that there was nothing in her
+      luxurious life to make it significant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sometimes from the depths of her there flashed up at odd moments
+      intimations of a future revolt. She remembered one evening at the opera
+      when the curtain had risen upon a particularly well-done piece of stage
+      scenery&mdash;a broad space of deep desolateness, reaching away under an
+      infinitude of night sky, illumined by stars. The suggestion it brought of
+      vast wastes of lonely, rugged earth, of a great, blue-arched vault of
+      starry sky, pervaded her soul with a strange, sweet peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the scene was changed she lost this vague new sense of peace, and she
+      turned away from the stage in irritation. She looked at the long, curved
+      tier of glittering boxes that represented her world. It was a
+      distinguished and splendid world&mdash;the wealth, fashion, culture,
+      beauty, and blood of a nation. She, Madeline Hammond, was a part of it.
+      She smiled, she listened, she talked to the men who from time to time
+      strolled into the Hammond box, and she felt that there was not a moment
+      when she was natural, true to herself. She wondered why these people could
+      not somehow, some way be different; but she could not tell what she wanted
+      them to be. If they had been different they would not have fitted the
+      place; indeed, they would not have been there at all. Yet she thought
+      wistfully that they lacked something for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And suddenly realizing she would marry one of these men if she did not
+      revolt, she had been assailed by a great weariness, an icy-sickening sense
+      that life had palled upon her. She was tired of fashionable society. She
+      was tired of polished, imperturbable men who sought only to please her.
+      She was tired of being feted, admired, loved, followed, and importuned;
+      tired of people; tired of houses, noise, ostentation, luxury. She was so
+      tired of herself!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the lonely distances and the passionless stars of boldly painted stage
+      scenery she had caught a glimpse of something that stirred her soul. The
+      feeling did not last. She could not call it back. She imagined that the
+      very boldness of the scene had appealed to her; she divined that the man
+      who painted it had found inspiration, joy, strength, serenity in rugged
+      nature. And at last she knew what she needed&mdash;to be alone, to brood
+      for long hours, to gaze out on lonely, silent, darkening stretches, to
+      watch the stars, to face her soul, to find her real self.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then it was she had first thought of visiting the brother who had gone
+      West to cast his fortune with the cattlemen. As it happened, she had
+      friends who were on the eve of starting for California, and she made a
+      quick decision to travel with them. When she calmly announced her
+      intention of going out West her mother had exclaimed in consternation; and
+      her father, surprised into pathetic memory of the black sheep of the
+      family, had stared at her with glistening eyes. &ldquo;Why, Madeline! You want
+      to see that wild boy!&rdquo; Then he had reverted to the anger he still felt for
+      his wayward son, and he had forbidden Madeline to go. Her mother forgot
+      her haughty poise and dignity. Madeline, however, had exhibited a will she
+      had never before been known to possess. She stood her ground even to
+      reminding them that she was twenty-four and her own mistress. In the end
+      she had prevailed, and that without betraying the real state of her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her decision to visit her brother had been too hurriedly made and acted
+      upon for her to write him about it, and so she had telegraphed him from
+      New York, and also, a day later, from Chicago, where her traveling friends
+      had been delayed by illness. Nothing could have turned her back then.
+      Madeline had planned to arrive in El Cajon on October 3d, her brother's
+      birthday, and she had succeeded, though her arrival occurred at the
+      twenty-fourth hour. Her train had been several hours late. Whether or not
+      the message had reached Alfred's hands she had no means of telling, and
+      the thing which concerned her now was the fact that she had arrived and he
+      was not there to meet her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It did not take long for thought of the past to give way wholly to the
+      reality of the present.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope nothing has happened to Alfred,&rdquo; she said to herself. &ldquo;He was
+      well, doing splendidly, the last time he wrote. To be sure, that was a
+      good while ago; but, then, he never wrote often. He's all right. Pretty
+      soon he'll come, and how glad I'll be! I wonder if he has changed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As Madeline sat waiting in the yellow gloom she heard the faint,
+      intermittent click of the telegraph instrument, the low hum of wires, the
+      occasional stamp of an iron-shod hoof, and a distant vacant laugh rising
+      above the sounds of the dance. These commonplace things were new to her.
+      She became conscious of a slight quickening of her pulse. Madeline had
+      only a limited knowledge of the West. Like all of her class, she had
+      traveled Europe and had neglected America. A few letters from her brother
+      had confused her already vague ideas of plains and mountains, as well as
+      of cowboys and cattle. She had been astounded at the interminable distance
+      she had traveled, and if there had been anything attractive to look at in
+      all that journey she had passed it in the night. And here she sat in a
+      dingy little station, with telegraph wires moaning a lonely song in the
+      wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A faint sound like the rattling of thin chains diverted Madeline's
+      attention. At first she imagined it was made by the telegraph wires. Then
+      she heard a step. The door swung wide; a tall man entered, and with him
+      came the clinking rattle. She realized then that the sound came from his
+      spurs. The man was a cowboy, and his entrance recalled vividly to her that
+      of Dustin Farnum in the first act of &ldquo;The Virginian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you please direct me to a hotel?&rdquo; asked Madeline, rising.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboy removed his sombrero, and the sweep he made with it and the
+      accompanying bow, despite their exaggeration, had a kind of rude grace. He
+      took two long strides toward her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lady, are you married?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the past Miss Hammond's sense of humor had often helped her to overlook
+      critical exactions natural to her breeding. She kept silence, and she
+      imagined it was just as well that her veil hid her face at the moment. She
+      had been prepared to find cowboys rather striking, and she had been warned
+      not to laugh at them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This gentleman of the range deliberately reached down and took up her left
+      hand. Before she recovered from her start of amaze he had stripped off her
+      glove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fine spark, but no wedding-ring,&rdquo; he drawled. &ldquo;Lady, I'm glad to see
+      you're not married.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He released her hand and returned the glove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, the only ho-tel in this here town is against boarding married
+      women.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed?&rdquo; said Madeline, trying to adjust her wits to the situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It sure is,&rdquo; he went on. &ldquo;Bad business for ho-tels to have married women.
+      Keeps the boys away. You see, this isn't Reno.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he laughed rather boyishly, and from that, and the way he slouched on
+      his sombrero, Madeline realized he was half drunk. As she instinctively
+      recoiled she not only gave him a keener glance, but stepped into a
+      position where a better light shone on his face. It was like red bronze,
+      bold, raw, sharp. He laughed again, as if good-naturedly amused with
+      himself, and the laugh scarcely changed the hard set of his features. Like
+      that of all women whose beauty and charm had brought them much before the
+      world, Miss Hammond's intuition had been developed until she had a
+      delicate and exquisitely sensitive perception of the nature of men and of
+      her effect upon them. This crude cowboy, under the influence of drink, had
+      affronted her; nevertheless, whatever was in his mind, he meant no insult.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be greatly obliged if you will show me to the hotel,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lady, you wait here,&rdquo; he replied, slowly, as if his thought did not come
+      swiftly. &ldquo;I'll go fetch the porter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She thanked him, and as he went out, closing the door, she sat down in
+      considerable relief. It occurred to her that she should have mentioned her
+      brother's name. Then she fell to wondering what living with such uncouth
+      cowboys had done to Alfred. He had been wild enough in college, and she
+      doubted that any cowboy could have taught him much. She alone of her
+      family had ever believed in any latent good in Alfred Hammond, and her
+      faith had scarcely survived the two years of silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Waiting there, she again found herself listening to the moan of the wind
+      through the wires. The horse outside began to pound with heavy hoofs, and
+      once he whinnied. Then Madeline heard a rapid pattering, low at first and
+      growing louder, which presently she recognized as the galloping of horses.
+      She went to the window, thinking, hoping her brother had arrived. But as
+      the clatter increased to a roar, shadows sped by&mdash;lean horses, flying
+      manes and tails, sombreroed riders, all strange and wild in her sight.
+      Recalling what the conductor had said, she was at some pains to quell her
+      uneasiness. Dust-clouds shrouded the dim lights in the windows. Then out
+      of the gloom two figures appeared, one tall, the other slight. The cowboy
+      was returning with a porter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Heavy footsteps sounded without, and lighter ones dragging along, and then
+      suddenly the door rasped open, jarring the whole room. The cowboy entered,
+      pulling a disheveled figure&mdash;that of a priest, a padre, whose mantle
+      had manifestly been disarranged by the rude grasp of his captor. Plain it
+      was that the padre was extremely terrified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline Hammond gazed in bewilderment at the little man, so pale and
+      shaken, and a protest trembled upon her lips; but it was never uttered,
+      for this half-drunken cowboy now appeared to be a cool, grim-smiling
+      devil; and stretching out a long arm, he grasped her and swung her back to
+      the bench.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You stay there!&rdquo; he ordered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice, though neither brutal nor harsh nor cruel, had the
+      unaccountable effect of making her feel powerless to move. No man had ever
+      before addressed her in such a tone. It was the woman in her that obeyed&mdash;not
+      the personality of proud Madeline Hammond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The padre lifted his clasped hands as if supplicating for his life, and
+      began to speak hurriedly in Spanish. Madeline did not understand the
+      language. The cowboy pulled out a huge gun and brandished it in the
+      priest's face. Then he lowered it, apparently to point it at the priest's
+      feet. There was a red flash, and then a thundering report that stunned
+      Madeline. The room filled with smoke and the smell of powder. Madeline did
+      not faint or even shut her eyes, but she felt as if she were fast in a
+      cold vise. When she could see distinctly through the smoke she experienced
+      a sensation of immeasurable relief that the cowboy had not shot the padre.
+      But he was still waving the gun, and now appeared to be dragging his
+      victim toward her. What possibly could be the drunken fool's intention?
+      This must be, this surely was a cowboy trick. She had a vague, swiftly
+      flashing recollection of Alfred's first letters descriptive of the
+      extravagant fun of cowboys. Then she vividly remembered a moving picture
+      she had seen&mdash;cowboys playing a monstrous joke on a lone
+      school-teacher. Madeline no sooner thought of it than she made certain her
+      brother was introducing her to a little wild West amusement. She could
+      scarcely believe it, yet it must be true. Alfred's old love of teasing her
+      might have extended even to this outrage. Probably he stood just outside
+      the door or window laughing at her embarrassment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Anger checked her panic. She straightened up with what composure this
+      surprise had left her and started for the door. But the cowboy barred her
+      passage&mdash;grasped her arms. Then Madeline divined that her brother
+      could not have any knowledge of this indignity. It was no trick. It was
+      something that was happening, that was real, that threatened she knew not
+      what. She tried to wrench free, feeling hot all over at being handled by
+      this drunken brute. Poise, dignity, culture&mdash;all the acquired habits
+      of character&mdash;fled before the instinct to fight. She was athletic.
+      She fought. She struggled desperately. But he forced her back with hands
+      of iron. She had never known a man could be so strong. And then it was the
+      man's coolly smiling face, the paralyzing strangeness of his manner, more
+      than his strength, that weakened Madeline until she sank trembling against
+      the bench.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&mdash;do you&mdash;mean?&rdquo; she panted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dearie, ease up a little on the bridle,&rdquo; he replied, gaily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline thought she must be dreaming. She could not think clearly. It had
+      all been too swift, too terrible for her to grasp. Yet she not only saw
+      this man, but also felt his powerful presence. And the shaking priest, the
+      haze of blue smoke, the smell of powder&mdash;these were not unreal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then close before her eyes burst another blinding red flash, and close at
+      her ears bellowed another report. Unable to stand, Madeline slipped down
+      onto the bench. Her drifting faculties refused clearly to record what
+      transpired during the next few moments; presently, however, as her mind
+      steadied somewhat, she heard, though as in a dream, the voice of the padre
+      hurrying over strange words. It ceased, and then the cowboy's voice
+      stirred her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lady, say Si&mdash;Si. Say it&mdash;quick! Say it&mdash;Si!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From sheer suggestion, a force irresistible at this moment when her will
+      was clamped by panic, she spoke the word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now, lady&mdash;so we can finish this properly&mdash;what's your
+      name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still obeying mechanically, she told him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stared for a while, as if the name had awakened associations in a mind
+      somewhat befogged. He leaned back unsteadily. Madeline heard the expulsion
+      of his breath, a kind of hard puff, not unusual in drunken men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What name?&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madeline Hammond. I am Alfred Hammond's sister.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He put his hand up and brushed at an imaginary something before his eyes.
+      Then he loomed over her, and that hand, now shaking a little, reached out
+      for her veil. Before he could touch it, however, she swept it back,
+      revealing her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're&mdash;not&mdash;Majesty Hammond?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      How strange&mdash;stranger than anything that had ever happened to her
+      before&mdash;was it to hear that name on the lips of this cowboy! It was a
+      name by which she was familiarly known, though only those nearest and
+      dearest to her had the privilege of using it. And now it revived her
+      dulled faculties, and by an effort she regained control of herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are Majesty Hammond,&rdquo; he replied; and this time he affirmed
+      wonderingly rather than questioned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline rose and faced him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He slammed his gun back into its holster.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I reckon we won't go on with it, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With what, sir? And why did you force me to say Si to this priest?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon that was a way I took to show him you'd be willing to get
+      married.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!... You&mdash;you!...&rdquo; Words failed her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This appeared to galvanize the cowboy into action. He grasped the padre
+      and led him toward the door, cursing and threatening, no doubt enjoining
+      secrecy. Then he pushed him across the threshold and stood there breathing
+      hard and wrestling with himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here&mdash;wait&mdash;wait a minute, Miss&mdash;Miss Hammond,&rdquo; he said,
+      huskily. &ldquo;You could fall into worse company than mine&mdash;though I
+      reckon you sure think not. I'm pretty drunk, but I'm&mdash;all right
+      otherwise. Just wait&mdash;a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood quivering and blazing with wrath, and watched this savage fight
+      his drunkenness. He acted like a man who had been suddenly shocked into a
+      rational state of mind, and he was now battling with himself to hold on to
+      it. Madeline saw the dark, damp hair lift from his brows as he held it up
+      to the cool wind. Above him she saw the white stars in the deep-blue sky,
+      and they seemed as unreal to her as any other thing in this strange night.
+      They were cold, brilliant, aloof, distant; and looking at them, she felt
+      her wrath lessen and die and leave her calm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboy turned and began to talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see&mdash;I was pretty drunk,&rdquo; he labored. &ldquo;There was a fiesta&mdash;and
+      a wedding. I do fool things when I'm drunk. I made a fool bet I'd marry
+      the first girl who came to town.... If you hadn't worn that veil&mdash;the
+      fellows were joshing me&mdash;and Ed Linton was getting married&mdash;and
+      everybody always wants to gamble.... I must have been pretty drunk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After the one look at her when she had first put aside her veil he had not
+      raised his eyes to her face. The cool audacity had vanished in what was
+      either excessive emotion or the maudlin condition peculiar to some men
+      when drunk. He could not stand still; perspiration collected in beads upon
+      his forehead; he kept wiping his face with his scarf, and he breathed like
+      a man after violent exertions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see&mdash;I was pretty&mdash;&rdquo; he began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Explanations are not necessary,&rdquo; she interrupted. &ldquo;I am very tired&mdash;distressed.
+      The hour is late. Have you the slightest idea what it means to be a
+      gentleman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His bronzed face burned to a flaming crimson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is my brother here&mdash;in town to-night?&rdquo; Madeline went on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. He's at his ranch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I wired him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Like as not the message is over in his box at the P.O. He'll be in town
+      to-morrow. He's shipping cattle for Stillwell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meanwhile I must go to a hotel. Will you please&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      If he heard her last words he showed no evidence of it. A noise outside
+      had attracted his attention. Madeline listened. Low voices of men, the
+      softer liquid tones of a woman, drifted in through the open door. They
+      spoke in Spanish, and the voices grew louder. Evidently the speakers were
+      approaching the station. Footsteps crunching on gravel attested to this,
+      and quicker steps, coming with deep tones of men in anger, told of a
+      quarrel. Then the woman's voice, hurried and broken, rising higher, was
+      eloquent of vain appeal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboy's demeanor startled Madeline into anticipation of something
+      dreadful. She was not deceived. From outside came the sound of a scuffle&mdash;a
+      muffled shot, a groan, the thud of a falling body, a woman's low cry, and
+      footsteps padding away in rapid retreat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline Hammond leaned weakly back in her seat, cold and sick, and for a
+      moment her ears throbbed to the tramp of the dancers across the way and
+      the rhythm of the cheap music. Then into the open door-place flashed a
+      girl's tragic face, lighted by dark eyes and framed by dusky hair. The
+      girl reached a slim brown hand round the side of the door and held on as
+      if to support herself. A long black scarf accentuated her gaudy attire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senor&mdash;Gene!&rdquo; she exclaimed; and breathless glad recognition made a
+      sudden break in her terror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bonita!&rdquo; The cowboy leaped to her. &ldquo;Girl! Are you hurt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Senor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took hold of her. &ldquo;I heard&mdash;somebody got shot. Was it Danny?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Senor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did Danny do the shooting? Tell me, girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Senor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sure glad. I thought Danny was mixed up in that. He had Stillwell's
+      money for the boys&mdash;I was afraid.... Say, Bonita, but you'll get in
+      trouble. Who was with you? What did you do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senor Gene&mdash;they Don Carlos vaqueros&mdash;they quarrel over me. I
+      only dance a leetle, smile a leetle, and they quarrel. I beg they be good&mdash;watch
+      out for Sheriff Hawe... and now Sheriff Hawe put me in jail. I so
+      frighten; he try make leetle love to Bonita once, and now he hate me like
+      he hate Senor Gene.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pat Hawe won't put you in jail. Take my horse and hit the Peloncillo
+      trail. Bonita, promise to stay away from El Cajon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Si, Senor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He led her outside. Madeline heard the horse snort and champ his bit. The
+      cowboy spoke low; only a few words were intelligible&mdash;&ldquo;stirrups...
+      wait... out of town... mountain... trail ... now ride!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A moment's silence ensued, and was broken by a pounding of hoofs, a
+      pattering of gravel. Then Madeline saw a big, dark horse run into the wide
+      space. She caught a glimpse of wind-swept scarf and hair, a little form
+      low down in the saddle. The horse was outlined in black against the line
+      of dim lights. There was something wild and splendid in his flight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Directly the cowboy appeared again in the doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, I reckon we want to rustle out of here. Been bad goings-on.
+      And there's a train due.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hurried into the open air, not daring to look back or to either side.
+      Her guide strode swiftly. She had almost to run to keep up with him. Many
+      conflicting emotions confused her. She had a strange sense of this
+      stalking giant beside her, silent except for his jangling spurs. She had a
+      strange feeling of the cool, sweet wind and the white stars. Was it only
+      her disordered fancy, or did these wonderful stars open and shut? She had
+      a queer, disembodied thought that somewhere in ages back, in another life,
+      she had seen these stars. The night seemed dark, yet there was a pale,
+      luminous light&mdash;a light from the stars&mdash;and she fancied it would
+      always haunt her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly aware that she had been led beyond the line of houses, she spoke:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are you taking me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Florence Kingsley,&rdquo; he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon she's your brother's best friend out here.&rdquo; Madeline kept pace
+      with the cowboy for a few moments longer, and then she stopped. It was as
+      much from necessity to catch her breath as it was from recurring fear. All
+      at once she realized what little use her training had been for such an
+      experience as this. The cowboy, missing her, came back the few intervening
+      steps. Then he waited, still silent, looming beside her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's so dark, so lonely,&rdquo; she faltered. &ldquo;How do I know... what warrant
+      can you give me that you&mdash;that no harm will befall me if I go
+      farther?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None, Miss Hammond, except that I've seen your face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      II. A Secret Kept
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Because of that singular reply Madeline found faith to go farther with the
+      cowboy. But at the moment she really did not think about what he had said.
+      Any answer to her would have served if it had been kind. His silence had
+      augmented her nervousness, compelling her to voice her fear. Still, even
+      if he had not replied at all she would have gone on with him. She
+      shuddered at the idea of returning to the station, where she believed
+      there had been murder; she could hardly have forced herself to go back to
+      those dim lights in the street; she did not want to wander around alone in
+      the dark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And as she walked on into the windy darkness, much relieved that he had
+      answered as he had, reflecting that he had yet to prove his words true,
+      she began to grasp the deeper significance of them. There was a revival of
+      pride that made her feel that she ought to scorn to think at all about
+      such a man. But Madeline Hammond discovered that thought was involuntary,
+      that there were feelings in her never dreamed of before this night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Madeline's guide turned off the walk and rapped at a door of a
+      low-roofed house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hullo&mdash;who's there?&rdquo; a deep voice answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene Stewart,&rdquo; said the cowboy. &ldquo;Call Florence&mdash;quick!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thump of footsteps followed, a tap on a door, and voices. Madeline heard a
+      woman exclaim: &ldquo;Gene! here when there's a dance in town! Something wrong
+      out on the range.&rdquo; A light flared up and shone bright through a window. In
+      another moment there came a patter of soft steps, and the door opened to
+      disclose a woman holding a lamp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene! Al's not&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al is all right,&rdquo; interrupted the cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had two sensations then&mdash;one of wonder at the note of alarm
+      and love in the woman's voice, and the other of unutterable relief to be
+      safe with a friend of her brother's.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's Al's sister&mdash;came on to-night's train,&rdquo; the cowboy was saying.
+      &ldquo;I happened to be at the station, and I've fetched her up to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline came forward out of the shadow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not&mdash;not really Majesty Hammond!&rdquo; exclaimed Florence Kingsley. She
+      nearly dropped the lamp, and she looked and looked, astounded beyond
+      belief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I am really she,&rdquo; replied Madeline. &ldquo;My train was late, and for some
+      reason Alfred did not meet me. Mr.&mdash;Mr. Stewart saw fit to bring me
+      to you instead of taking me to a hotel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'm so glad to meet you,&rdquo; replied Florence, warmly. &ldquo;Do come in. I'm
+      so surprised, I forget my manners. Why, Al never mentioned your coming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He surely could not have received my messages,&rdquo; said Madeline, as she
+      entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboy, who came in with her satchel, had to stoop to enter the door,
+      and, once in, he seemed to fill the room. Florence set the lamp down upon
+      the table. Madeline saw a young woman with a smiling, friendly face, and a
+      profusion of fair hair hanging down over her dressing-gown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, but Al will be glad!&rdquo; cried Florence. &ldquo;Why, you are white as a sheet.
+      You must be tired. What a long wait you had at the station! I heard the
+      train come in hours ago as I was going to bed. That station is lonely at
+      night. If I had known you were coming! Indeed, you are very pale. Are you
+      ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Only I am very tired. Traveling so far by rail is harder than I
+      imagined. I did have rather a long wait after arriving at the station, but
+      I can't say that it was lonely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence Kingsley searched Madeline's face with keen eyes, and then took a
+      long, significant look at the silent Stewart. With that she deliberately
+      and quietly closed a door leading into another room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, what has happened?&rdquo; She had lowered her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not wish to recall all that has happened,&rdquo; replied Madeline. &ldquo;I
+      shall tell Alfred, however, that I would rather have met a hostile Apache
+      than a cowboy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please don't tell Al that!&rdquo; cried Florence. Then she grasped Stewart and
+      pulled him close to the light. &ldquo;Gene, you're drunk!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was pretty drunk,&rdquo; he replied, hanging his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, what have you done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, see here, Flo, I only&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want to know. I'd tell it. Gene, aren't you ever going to learn
+      decency? Aren't you ever going to stop drinking? You'll lose all your
+      friends. Stillwell has stuck to you. Al's been your best friend. Molly and
+      I have pleaded with you, and now you've gone and done&mdash;God knows
+      what!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do women want to wear veils for?&rdquo; he growled. &ldquo;I'd have known her
+      but for that veil.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you wouldn't have insulted her. But you would the next girl who came
+      along. Gene, you are hopeless. Now, you get out of here and don't ever
+      come back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Flo!&rdquo; he entreated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon then I'll come back to-morrow and take my medicine,&rdquo; he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you dare!&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart went out and closed the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, you&mdash;you don't know how this hurts me,&rdquo; said Florence.
+      &ldquo;What you must think of us! It's so unlucky that you should have had this
+      happen right at first. Now, maybe you won't have the heart to stay. Oh,
+      I've known more than one Eastern girl to go home without ever learning
+      what we really are cut here. Miss Hammond, Gene Stewart is a fiend when
+      he's drunk. All the same I know, whatever he did, he meant no shame to
+      you. Come now, don't think about it again to-night.&rdquo; She took up the lamp
+      and led Madeline into a little room. &ldquo;This is out West,&rdquo; she went on,
+      smiling, as she indicated the few furnishings; &ldquo;but you can rest. You're
+      perfectly safe. Won't you let me help you undress&mdash;can't I do
+      anything for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very kind, thank you, but I can manage,&rdquo; replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, good night. The sooner I go the sooner you'll rest. Just
+      forget what happened and think how fine a surprise you're to give your
+      brother to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that she slipped out and softly shut the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Madeline laid her watch on the bureau she noticed that the time was
+      past two o'clock. It seemed long since she had gotten off the train. When
+      she had turned out the lamp and crept wearily into bed she knew what it
+      was to be utterly spent. She was too tired to move a finger. But her brain
+      whirled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had at first no control over it, and a thousand thronging sensations
+      came and went and recurred with little logical relation. There were the
+      roar of the train; the feeling of being lost; the sound of pounding hoofs;
+      a picture of her brother's face as she had last seen it five years before;
+      a long, dim line of lights; the jingle of silver spurs; night, wind,
+      darkness, stars. Then the gloomy station, the shadowy blanketed Mexican,
+      the empty room, the dim lights across the square, the tramp of the dancers
+      and vacant laughs and discordant music, the door flung wide and the
+      entrance of the cowboy. She did not recall how he had looked or what he
+      had done. And the next instant she saw him cool, smiling, devilish&mdash;saw
+      him in violence; the next his bigness, his apparel, his physical being
+      were vague as outlines in a dream. The white face of the padre flashed
+      along in the train of thought, and it brought the same dull, half-blind,
+      indefinable state of mind subsequent to that last nerve-breaking
+      pistol-shot. That passed, and then clear and vivid rose memories of the
+      rest that had happened&mdash;strange voices betraying fury of men, a
+      deadened report, a moan of mortal pain, a woman's poignant cry. And
+      Madeline saw the girl's great tragic eyes and the wild flight of the big
+      horse into the blackness, and the dark, stalking figure of the silent
+      cowboy, and the white stars that seemed to look down remorselessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This tide of memory rolled over Madeline again and again, and gradually
+      lost its power and faded. All distress left her, and she felt herself
+      drifting. How black the room was&mdash;as black with her eyes open as it
+      was when they were shut! And the silence&mdash;it was like a cloak. There
+      was absolutely no sound. She was in another world from that which she
+      knew. She thought of this fair-haired Florence and of Alfred; and,
+      wondering about them, she dropped to sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she awakened the room was bright with sunlight. A cool wind blowing
+      across the bed caused her to put her hands under the blanket. She was
+      lazily and dreamily contemplating the mud walls of this little room when
+      she remembered where she was and how she had come there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How great a shock she had been subjected to was manifest in a sensation of
+      disgust that overwhelmed her. She even shut her eyes to try and blot out
+      the recollection. She felt that she had been contaminated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Madeline Hammond again awoke to the fact she had learned the
+      preceding night&mdash;that there were emotions to which she had heretofore
+      been a stranger. She did not try to analyze them, but she exercised her
+      self-control to such good purpose that by the time she had dressed she was
+      outwardly her usual self. She scarcely remembered when she had found it
+      necessary to control her emotions. There had been no trouble, no
+      excitement, no unpleasantness in her life. It had been ordered for her&mdash;tranquil,
+      luxurious, brilliant, varied, yet always the same.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was not surprised to find the hour late, and was going to make inquiry
+      about her brother when a voice arrested her. She recognized Miss
+      Kingsley's voice addressing some one outside, and it had a sharpness she
+      had not noted before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you came back, did you? Well, you don't look very proud of yourself
+      this mawnin'. Gene Stewart, you look like a coyote.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say, Flo if I am a coyote I'm not going to sneak,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What 'd you come for?&rdquo; she demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I said I was coming round to take my medicine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meaning you'll not run from Al Hammond? Gene, your skull is as thick as
+      an old cow's. Al will never know anything about what you did to his sister
+      unless you tell him. And if you do that he'll shoot you. She won't give
+      you away. She's a thoroughbred. Why, she was so white last night I thought
+      she'd drop at my feet, but she never blinked an eyelash. I'm a woman, Gene
+      Stewart and if I couldn't feel like Miss Hammond I know how awful an
+      ordeal she must have had. Why, she's one of the most beautiful, the most
+      sought after, the most exclusive women in New York City. There's a crowd
+      of millionaires and lords and dukes after her. How terrible it'd be for a
+      woman like her to be kissed by a drunken cowpuncher! I say it&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Flo, I never insulted her that way,&rdquo; broke out Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was worse, then?&rdquo; she queried, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I made a bet that I'd marry the first girl who came to town. I was on the
+      watch and pretty drunk. When she came&mdash;well, I got Padre Marcos and
+      tried to bully her into marrying me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Lord!&rdquo; Florence gasped. &ldquo;It's worse than I feared.... Gene, Al will
+      kill you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That'll be a good thing,&rdquo; replied the cowboy, dejectedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene Stewart, it certainly would, unless you turn over a new leaf,&rdquo;
+       retorted Florence. &ldquo;But don't be a fool.&rdquo; And here she became earnest and
+      appealing. &ldquo;Go away, Gene. Go join the rebels across the border&mdash;you're
+      always threatening that. Anyhow, don't stay here and run any chance of
+      stirring Al up. He'd kill you just the same as you would kill another man
+      for insulting your sister. Don't make trouble for Al. That'd only make
+      sorrow for her, Gene.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The subtle import was not lost upon Madeline. She was distressed because
+      she could not avoid hearing what was not meant for her ears. She made an
+      effort not to listen, and it was futile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Flo, you can't see this a man's way,&rdquo; he replied, quietly. &ldquo;I'll stay and
+      take my medicine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene, I could sure swear at you or any other pig-head of a cowboy.
+      Listen. My brother-in-law, Jack, heard something of what I said to you
+      last night. He doesn't like you. I'm afraid he'll tell Al. For Heaven's
+      sake, man, go down-town and shut him up and yourself, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Madeline heard her come into the house and presently rap on the door
+      and call softly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond. Are you awake?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Awake and dressed, Miss Kingsley. Come in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! You've rested. You look so&mdash;so different. I'm sure glad. Come
+      out now. We'll have breakfast, and then you may expect to meet your
+      brother any moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait, please. I heard you speaking to Mr. Stewart. It was unavoidable.
+      But I am glad. I must see him. Will you please ask him to come into the
+      parlor a moment?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Florence, quickly; and as she turned at the door she
+      flashed at Madeline a woman's meaning glance. &ldquo;Make him keep his mouth
+      shut!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently there were slow, reluctant steps outside the front door, then a
+      pause, and the door opened. Stewart stood bareheaded in the sunlight.
+      Madeline remembered with a kind of shudder the tall form, the embroidered
+      buckskin vest, the red scarf, the bright leather wristbands, the wide
+      silver-buckled belt and chaps. Her glance seemed to run over him swift as
+      lightning. But as she saw his face now she did not recognize it. The man's
+      presence roused in her a revolt. Yet something in her, the
+      incomprehensible side of her nature, thrilled in the look of this splendid
+      dark-faced barbarian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Stewart, will you please come in?&rdquo; she asked, after that long pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon not,&rdquo; he said. The hopelessness of his tone meant that he knew
+      he was not fit to enter a room with her, and did not care or cared too
+      much.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline went to the door. The man's face was hard, yet it was sad, too.
+      And it touched her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall not tell my brother of your&mdash;your rudeness to me,&rdquo; she
+      began. It was impossible for her to keep the chill out of her voice, to
+      speak with other than the pride and aloofness of her class. Nevertheless,
+      despite her loathing, when she had spoken so far it seemed that kindness
+      and pity followed involuntarily. &ldquo;I choose to overlook what you did
+      because you were not wholly accountable, and because there must be no
+      trouble between Alfred and you. May I rely on you to keep silence and to
+      seal the lips of that priest? And you know there was a man killed or
+      injured there last night. I want to forget that dreadful thing. I don't
+      want it known that I heard&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Greaser didn't die,&rdquo; interrupted Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! then that's not so bad, after all. I am glad for the sake of your
+      friend&mdash;the little Mexican girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A slow scarlet wave overspread his face, and his shame was painful to see.
+      That fixed in Madeline's mind a conviction that if he was a heathen he was
+      not wholly bad. And it made so much difference that she smiled down at
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will spare me further distress, will you not, please?&rdquo; His hoarse
+      reply was incoherent, but she needed only to see his working face to know
+      his remorse and gratitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline went back to her room; and presently Florence came for her, and
+      directly they were sitting at breakfast. Madeline Hammond's impression of
+      her brother's friend had to be reconstructed in the morning light. She
+      felt a wholesome, frank, sweet nature. She liked the slow Southern drawl.
+      And she was puzzled to know whether Florence Kingsley was pretty or
+      striking or unusual. She had a youthful glow and flush, the clear tan of
+      outdoors, a face that lacked the soft curves and lines of Eastern women,
+      and her eyes were light gray, like crystal, steady, almost piercing, and
+      her hair was a beautiful bright, waving mass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence's sister was the elder of the two, a stout woman with a strong
+      face and quiet eyes. It was a simple fare and service they gave to their
+      guest; but they made no apologies for that. Indeed, Madeline felt their
+      simplicity to be restful. She was sated with respect, sick of admiration,
+      tired of adulation; and it was good to see that these Western women
+      treated her as very likely they would have treated any other visitor. They
+      were sweet, kind; and what Madeline had at first thought was a lack of
+      expression or vitality she soon discovered to be the natural reserve of
+      women who did not live superficial lives. Florence was breezy and frank,
+      her sister quaint and not given much to speech. Madeline thought she would
+      like to have these women near her if she were ill or in trouble. And she
+      reproached herself for a fastidiousness, a hypercritical sense of
+      refinement that could not help distinguishing what these women lacked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you ride?&rdquo; Florence was asking. &ldquo;That's what a Westerner always asks
+      any one from the East. Can you ride like a man&mdash;astride, I mean? Oh,
+      that's fine. You look strong enough to hold a horse. We have some fine
+      horses out here. I reckon when Al comes we'll go out to Bill Stillwell's
+      ranch. We'll have to go, whether we want to or not, for when Bill learns
+      you are here he'll just pack us all off. You'll love old Bill. His ranch
+      is run down, but the range and the rides up in the mountains&mdash;they
+      are beautiful. We'll hunt and climb, and most of all we'll ride. I love a
+      horse&mdash;I love the wind in my face, and a wide stretch with the
+      mountains beckoning. You must have the best horse on the ranges. And that
+      means a scrap between Al and Bill and all the cowboys. We don't all agree
+      about horses, except in case of Gene Stewart's iron-gray.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does Mr. Stewart own the best horse in the country?&rdquo; asked Madeline.
+      Again she had an inexplicable thrill as she remembered the wild flight of
+      Stewart's big dark steed and rider.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and that's all he does own,&rdquo; replied Florence. &ldquo;Gene can't keep even
+      a quirt. But he sure loves that horse and calls him&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this juncture a sharp knock on the parlor door interrupted the
+      conversation. Florence's sister went to open it. She returned presently
+      and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's Gene. He's been dawdlin' out there on the front porch, and he
+      knocked to let us know Miss Hammond's brother is comin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence hurried into the parlor, followed by Madeline. The door stood
+      open, and disclosed Stewart sitting on the porch steps. From down the road
+      came a clatter of hoofs. Madeline looked out over Florence's shoulder and
+      saw a cloud of dust approaching, and in it she distinguished outlines of
+      horses and riders. A warmth spread over her, a little tingle of gladness,
+      and the feeling recalled her girlish love for her brother. What would he
+      be like after long years?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene, has Jack kept his mouth shut?&rdquo; queried Florence; and again Madeline
+      was aware of a sharp ring in the girl's voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene! You won't let it come to a fight? Al can be managed. But Jack hates
+      you and he'll have his friends with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There won't be any fight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Use your brains now,&rdquo; added Florence; and then she turned to push
+      Madeline gently back into the parlor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's glow of warmth changed to a blank dismay. Was she to see her
+      brother act with the violence she now associated with cowboys? The clatter
+      of hoofs stopped before the door. Looking out, Madeline saw a bunch of
+      dusty, wiry horses pawing the gravel and tossing lean heads. Her swift
+      glance ran over the lithe horsemen, trying to pick out the one who was her
+      brother. But she could not. Her glance, however, caught the same rough
+      dress and hard aspect that characterized the cowboy Stewart. Then one
+      rider threw his bridle, leaped from the saddle, and came bounding up the
+      porch steps. Florence met him at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello, Flo. Where is she?&rdquo; he called, eagerly. With that he looked over
+      her shoulder to espy Madeline. He actually jumped at her. She hardly knew
+      the tall form and the bronzed face, but the warm flash of blue eyes was
+      familiar. As for him, he had no doubt of his sister, it appeared, for with
+      broken welcome he threw his arms around her, then held her off and looked
+      searchingly at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sister,&rdquo; he began, when Florence turned hurriedly from the door and
+      interrupted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al, I think you'd better stop the wrangling out there.&rdquo; He stared at her,
+      appeared suddenly to hear the loud voices from the street, and then,
+      releasing Madeline, he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By George! I forgot, Flo. There is a little business to see to. Keep my
+      sister in here, please, and don't be fussed up now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went out on the porch and called to his men:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shut off your wind, Jack! And you, too, Blaze! I didn't want you fellows
+      to come here. But as you would come, you've got to shut up. This is my
+      business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whereupon he turned to Stewart, who was sitting on the fence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello, Stewart!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a greeting; but there was that in the voice which alarmed Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart leisurely got up and leisurely advanced to the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello, Hammond!&rdquo; he drawled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Drunk again last night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if you want to know, and if it's any of your mix, yes, I was-pretty
+      drunk,&rdquo; replied Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a kind of cool speech that showed the cowboy in control of himself
+      and master of the situation&mdash;not an easy speech to follow up with
+      undue inquisitiveness. There was a short silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Damn it, Stewart,&rdquo; said the speaker, presently, &ldquo;here's the situation:
+      It's all over town that you met my sister last night at the station and&mdash;and
+      insulted her. Jack's got it in for you, so have these other boys. But it's
+      my affair. Understand, I didn't fetch them here. They can see you square
+      yourself, or else&mdash;Gene, you've been on the wrong trail for some
+      time, drinking and all that. You're going to the bad. But Bill thinks, and
+      I think, you're still a man. We never knew you to lie. Now what have you
+      to say for yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody is insinuating that I am a liar?&rdquo; drawled Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'm glad to hear that. You see, Al, I was pretty drunk last night,
+      but not drunk enough to forget the least thing I did. I told Pat Hawe so
+      this morning when he was curious. And that's polite for me to be to Pat.
+      Well, I found Miss Hammond waiting alone at the station. She wore a veil,
+      but I knew she was a lady, of course. I imagine, now that I think of it,
+      that Miss Hammond found my gallantry rather startling, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this point Madeline, answering to unconsidered impulse, eluded Florence
+      and walked out upon the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sombreros flashed down and the lean horses jumped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; said Madeline, rather breathlessly; and it did not add to her
+      calmness to feel a hot flush in her cheeks, &ldquo;I am very new to Western
+      ways, but I think you are laboring under a mistake, which, in justice to
+      Mr. Stewart, I want to correct. Indeed, he was rather&mdash;rather abrupt
+      and strange when he came up to me last night; but as I understand him now,
+      I can attribute that to his gallantry. He was somewhat wild and sudden and&mdash;sentimental
+      in his demand to protect me&mdash;and it was not clear whether he meant
+      his protection for last night or forever; but I am happy to say be offered
+      me no word that was not honorable. And he saw me safely here to Miss
+      Kingsley's home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      III. Sister and Brother
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Then Madeline returned to the little parlor with the brother whom she had
+      hardly recognized.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;To think of your being here!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The warmth stole back along her veins. She remembered how that pet name
+      had sounded from the lips of this brother who had given it to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alfred!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then his words of gladness at sight of her, his chagrin at not being at
+      the train to welcome her, were not so memorable of him as the way he
+      clasped her, for he had held her that way the day he left home, and she
+      had not forgotten. But now he was so much taller and bigger, so dusty and
+      strange and different and forceful, that she could scarcely think him the
+      same man. She even had a humorous thought that here was another cowboy
+      bullying her, and this time it was her brother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear old girl,&rdquo; he said, more calmly, as he let her go, &ldquo;you haven't
+      changed at all, except to grow lovelier. Only you're a woman now, and
+      you've fulfilled the name I gave you. God! how sight of you brings back
+      home! It seems a hundred years since I left. I missed you more than all
+      the rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline seemed to feel with his every word that she was remembering him.
+      She was so amazed at the change in him that she could not believe her
+      eyes. She saw a bronzed, strong-jawed, eagle-eyed man, stalwart, superb of
+      height, and, like the cowboys, belted, booted, spurred. And there was
+      something hard as iron in his face that quivered with his words. It seemed
+      that only in those moments when the hard lines broke and softened could
+      she see resemblance to the face she remembered. It was his manner, the
+      tone of his voice, and the tricks of speech that proved to her he was
+      really Alfred. She had bidden good-by to a disgraced, disinherited,
+      dissolute boy. Well she remembered the handsome pale face with its
+      weakness and shadows and careless smile, with the ever-present cigarette
+      hanging between the lips. The years had passed, and now she saw him a man&mdash;the
+      West had made him a man. And Madeline Hammond felt a strong, passionate
+      gladness and gratefulness, and a direct check to her suddenly inspired
+      hatred of the West.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty, it was good of you to come. I'm all broken up. How did you ever
+      do it? But never mind that now. Tell me about that brother of mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Madeline told him, and then about their sister Helen. Question after
+      question he fired at her; and she told him of her mother; of Aunt Grace,
+      who had died a year ago; of his old friends, married, scattered, vanished.
+      But she did not tell him of his father, for he did not ask.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Quite suddenly the rapid-fire questioning ceased; he choked, was silent a
+      moment, and then burst into tears. It seemed to her that a long, stored-up
+      bitterness was flooding away. It hurt her to see him&mdash;hurt her more
+      to hear him. And in the succeeding few moments she grew closer to him than
+      she had ever been in the past. Had her father and mother done right by
+      him? Her pulse stirred with unwonted quickness. She did not speak, but she
+      kissed him, which, for her, was an indication of unusual feeling. And when
+      he recovered command over his emotions he made no reference to his
+      breakdown, nor did she. But that scene struck deep into Madeline Hammond's
+      heart. Through it she saw what he had lost and gained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alfred, why did you not answer my last letters?&rdquo; asked Madeline. &ldquo;I had
+      not heard from you for two years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So long? How time flies! Well, things went bad with me about the last
+      time I heard from you. I always intended to write some day, but I never
+      did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Things went wrong? Tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty, you mustn't worry yourself with my troubles. I want you to enjoy
+      your stay and not be bothered with my difficulties.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please tell me. I suspected something had gone wrong. That is partly why
+      I decided to come out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right; if you must know,&rdquo; he began; and it seemed to Madeline that
+      there was a gladness in his decision to unburden himself. &ldquo;You remember
+      all about my little ranch, and that for a while I did well raising stock?
+      I wrote you all that. Majesty, a man makes enemies anywhere. Perhaps an
+      Eastern man in the West can make, if not so many, certainly more bitter
+      ones. At any rate, I made several. There was a cattleman, Ward by name&mdash;he's
+      gone now&mdash;and he and I had trouble over cattle. That gave me a
+      back-set. Pat Hawe, the sheriff here, has been instrumental in hurting my
+      business. He's not so much of a rancher, but he has influence at Santa Fe
+      and El Paso and Douglas. I made an enemy of him. I never did anything to
+      him. He hates Gene Stewart, and upon one occasion I spoiled a little plot
+      of his to get Gene in his clutches. The real reason for his animosity
+      toward me is that he loves Florence, and Florence is going to marry me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alfred!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter, Majesty? Didn't Florence impress you favorably?&rdquo; he
+      asked, with a keen glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;yes, indeed. I like her. But I did not think of her in relation
+      to you&mdash;that way. I am greatly surprised. Alfred, is she well born?
+      What connections?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Florence is just a girl of ordinary people. She was born in Kentucky, was
+      brought up in Texas. My aristocratic and wealthy family would scorn&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alfred, you are still a Hammond,&rdquo; said Madeline, with uplifted head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred laughed. &ldquo;We won't quarrel, Majesty. I remember you, and in spite
+      of your pride you've got a heart. If you stay here a month you'll love
+      Florence Kingsley. I want you to know she's had a great deal to do with
+      straightening me up.... Well, to go on with my story. There's Don Carlos,
+      a Mexican rancher, and he's my worst enemy. For that matter, he's as bad
+      an enemy of Bill Stillwell and other ranchers. Stillwell, by the way, is
+      my friend and one of the finest men on earth. I got in debt to Don Carlos
+      before I knew he was so mean. In the first place I lost money at faro&mdash;I
+      gambled some when I came West&mdash;and then I made unwise cattle deals.
+      Don Carlos is a wily Greaser, he knows the ranges, he has the water, and
+      he is dishonest. So he outfigured me. And now I am practically ruined. He
+      has not gotten possession of my ranch, but that's only a matter of time,
+      pending lawsuits at Santa Fe. At present I have a few hundred cattle
+      running on Stillwell's range, and I am his foreman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Foreman?&rdquo; queried Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am simply boss of Stillwell's cowboys, and right glad of my job.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was conscious of an inward burning. It required an effort for her
+      to retain her outward tranquillity. Annoying consciousness she had also of
+      the returning sense of new disturbing emotions. She began to see just how
+      walled in from unusual thought-provoking incident and sensation had been
+      her exclusive life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cannot your property be reclaimed?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;How much do you owe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ten thousand dollars would clear me and give me another start. But,
+      Majesty, in this country that's a good deal of money, and I haven't been
+      able to raise it. Stillwell's in worse shape than I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline went over to Alfred and put her hands on his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must not be in debt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stared at her as if her words had recalled something long forgotten.
+      Then he smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How imperious you are! I'd forgotten just who my beautiful sister really
+      is. Majesty, you're not going to ask me to take money from you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'll not do it. I never did, even when I was in college, and then
+      there wasn't much beyond me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, Alfred,&rdquo; she went on, earnestly, &ldquo;this is entirely different. I
+      had only an allowance then. You had no way to know that since I last wrote
+      you I had come into my inheritance from Aunt Grace. It was&mdash;well,
+      that doesn't matter. Only, I haven't been able to spend half the income.
+      It's mine. It's not father's money. You will make me very happy if you'll
+      consent. Alfred, I'm so&mdash;so amazed at the change in you. I'm so
+      happy. You must never take a backward step from now on. What is ten
+      thousand dollars to me? Sometimes I spend that in a month. I throw money
+      away. If you let me help you it will be doing me good as well as you.
+      Please, Alfred.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He kissed her, evidently surprised at her earnestness. And indeed Madeline
+      was surprised herself. Once started, her speech had flowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You always were the best of fellows, Majesty. And if you really care&mdash;if
+      you really want to help me I'll be only too glad to accept. It will be
+      fine. Florence will go wild. And that Greaser won't harass me any more.
+      Majesty, pretty soon some titled fellow will be spending your money; I may
+      as well take a little before he gets it all,&rdquo; he finished, jokingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you know about me?&rdquo; she asked, lightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More than you think. Even if we are lost out here in the woolly West we
+      get news. Everybody knows about Anglesbury. And that Dago duke who chased
+      you all over Europe, that Lord Castleton has the running now and seems
+      about to win. How about it, Majesty?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline detected a hint that suggested scorn in his gay speech. And deep
+      in his searching glance she saw a flame. She became thoughtful. She had
+      forgotten Castleton, New York, society.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alfred,&rdquo; she began, seriously, &ldquo;I don't believe any titled gentleman will
+      ever spend my money, as you elegantly express it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't care for that. It's you!&rdquo; he cried, passionately, and he grasped
+      her with a violence that startled her. He was white; his eyes were now
+      like fire. &ldquo;You are so splendid&mdash;so wonderful. People called you the
+      American Beauty, but you're more than that. You're the American Girl!
+      Majesty, marry no man unless you love him, and love an American. Stay away
+      from Europe long enough to learn to know the men&mdash;the real men of
+      your own country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alfred, I'm afraid there are not always real men and real love for
+      American girls in international marriages. But Helen knows this. It'll be
+      her choice. She'll be miserable if she marries Anglesbury.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It'll serve her just right,&rdquo; declared her brother. &ldquo;Helen was always
+      crazy for glitter, adulation, fame. I'll gamble she never saw more of
+      Anglesbury than the gold and ribbons on his breast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry. Anglesbury is a gentleman; but it is the money he wanted, I
+      think. Alfred, tell me how you came to know about me, 'way out here? You
+      may be assured I was astonished to find that Miss Kingsley knew me as
+      Majesty Hammond.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I imagine it was a surprise,&rdquo; he replied, with a laugh, &ldquo;I told Florence
+      about you&mdash;gave her a picture of you. And, of course, being a woman,
+      she showed the picture and talked. She's in love with you. Then, my dear
+      sister, we do get New York papers out here occasionally, and we can see
+      and read. You may not be aware that you and your society friends are
+      objects of intense interest in the U. S. in general, and the West in
+      particular. The papers are full of you, and perhaps a lot of things you
+      never did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That Mr. Stewart knew, too. He said, 'You're not Majesty Hammond?'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind his impudence!&rdquo; exclaimed Alfred; and then again he laughed.
+      &ldquo;Gene is all right, only you've got to know him. I'll tell you what he
+      did. He got hold of one of those newspaper pictures of you&mdash;the one
+      in the Times; he took it away from here, and in spite of Florence he
+      wouldn't fetch it back. It was a picture of you in riding-habit with your
+      blue-ribbon horse, White Stockings&mdash;remember? It was taken at
+      Newport. Well, Stewart tacked the picture up in his bunk-house and named
+      his beautiful horse Majesty. All the cowboys knew it. They would see the
+      picture and tease him unmercifully. But he didn't care. One day I happened
+      to drop in on him and found him just recovering from a carouse. I saw the
+      picture, too, and I said to him, 'Gene, if my sister knew you were a
+      drunkard she'd not be proud of having her picture stuck up in your room.'
+      Majesty, he did not touch a drop for a month, and when he did drink again
+      he took the picture down, and he has never put it back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline smiled at her brother's amusement, but she did not reply. She
+      simply could not adjust herself to these queer free Western' ways. Her
+      brother had eloquently pleaded for her to keep herself above a sordid and
+      brilliant marriage, yet he not only allowed a cowboy to keep her picture
+      in his room, but actually spoke of her and used her name in a temperance
+      lecture. Madeline just escaped feeling disgust. She was saved from this,
+      however, by nothing less than her brother's naive gladness that through
+      subtle suggestion Stewart had been persuaded to be good for a month.
+      Something made up of Stewart's effrontery to her; of Florence Kingsley
+      meeting her, frankly as it were, as an equal; of the elder sister's slow,
+      quiet, easy acceptance of this visitor who had been honored at the courts
+      of royalty; of that faint hint of scorn in Alfred's voice, and his amused
+      statement in regard to her picture and the name Majesty&mdash;something
+      made up of all these stung Madeline Hammond's pride, alienated her for an
+      instant, and then stimulated her intelligence, excited her interest, and
+      made her resolve to learn a little about this incomprehensible West.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty, I must run down to the siding,&rdquo; he said, consulting his watch.
+      &ldquo;We're loading a shipment of cattle. I'll be back by supper-time and bring
+      Stillwell with me. You'll like him. Give me the check for your trunk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went into the little bedroom and, taking up her bag, she got out a
+      number of checks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Six! Six trunks!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Well, I'm very glad you intend to stay
+      awhile. Say, Majesty, it will take me as long to realize who you really
+      are as it'll take to break you of being a tenderfoot. I hope you packed a
+      riding-suit. If not you'll have to wear trousers! You'll have to do that,
+      anyway, when we go up in the mountains.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You sure will, as Florence says.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall see about that. I don't know what's in the trunks. I never pack
+      anything. My dear brother, what do I have maids for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did it come that you didn't travel with a maid?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wanted to be alone. But don't you worry. I shall be able to look after
+      myself. I dare say it will be good for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went to the gate with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a shaggy, dusty horse! He's wild, too. Do you let him stand that way
+      without being haltered? I should think he would run off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tenderfoot! You'll be great fun, Majesty, especially for the cowboys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, will I?&rdquo; she asked, constrainedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and in three days they will be fighting one another over you. That's
+      going to worry me. Cowboys fall in love with a plain woman, an ugly woman,
+      any woman, so long as she's young. And you! Good Lord! They'll go out of
+      their heads.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are pleased to be facetious, Alfred. I think I have had quite enough
+      of cowboys, and I haven't been here twenty-four hours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't think too much of first impressions. That was my mistake when I
+      arrived here. Good-by. I'll go now. Better rest awhile. You look tired.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The horse started as Alfred put his foot in the stirrup and was running
+      when the rider slipped his leg over the saddle. Madeline watched him in
+      admiration. He seemed to be loosely fitted to the saddle, moving with the
+      horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose that's a cowboy's style. It pleases me,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;How
+      different from the seat of Eastern riders!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Madeline sat upon the porch and fell to interested observation of her
+      surrounding. Near at hand it was decidedly not prepossessing. The street
+      was deep in dust, and the cool wind whipped up little puffs. The houses
+      along this street were all low, square, flat-roofed structures made of
+      some kind of red cement. It occurred to her suddenly that this
+      building-material must be the adobe she had read about. There was no
+      person in sight. The long street appeared to have no end, though the line
+      of houses did not extend far. Once she heard a horse trotting at some
+      distance, and several times the ringing of a locomotive bell. Where were
+      the mountains, wondered Madeline. Soon low over the house-roofs she saw a
+      dim, dark-blue, rugged outline. It seemed to charm her eyes and fix her
+      gaze. She knew the Adirondacks, she had seen the Alps from the summit of
+      Mont Blanc, and had stood under the great black, white-tipped shadow of
+      the Himalayas. But they had not drawn her as these remote Rockies. This
+      dim horizon line boldly cutting the blue sky fascinated her. Florence
+      Kingsley's expression &ldquo;beckoning mountains&rdquo; returned to Madeline. She
+      could not see or feel so much as that. Her impression was rather that
+      these mountains were aloof, unattainable, that if approached they would
+      recede or vanish like the desert mirage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline went to her room, intending to rest awhile, and she fell asleep.
+      She was aroused by Florence's knock and call.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, your brother has come back with Stillwell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, how I have slept!&rdquo; exclaimed Madeline. &ldquo;It's nearly six o'clock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sure glad. You were tired. And the air here makes strangers sleepy.
+      Come, we want you to meet old Bill. He calls himself the last of the
+      cattlemen. He has lived in Texas and here all his life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline accompanied Florence to the porch. Her brother, who was sitting
+      near the door, jumped up and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello, Majesty!&rdquo; And as he put his arm around her he turned toward a
+      massive man whose broad, craggy face began to ripple and wrinkle. &ldquo;I want
+      to introduce my friend Stillwell to you. Bill, this is my sister, the
+      sister I've so often told you about&mdash;Majesty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, wal, Al, this's the proudest meetin' of my life,&rdquo; replied Stillwell,
+      in a booming voice. He extended a huge hand. &ldquo;Miss&mdash;Miss Majesty,
+      sight of you is as welcome as the rain an' the flowers to an old desert
+      cattleman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline greeted him, and it was all she could do to repress a cry at the
+      way he crunched her hand in a grasp of iron. He was old, white-haired,
+      weather-beaten, with long furrows down his checks and with gray eyes
+      almost hidden in wrinkles. If he was smiling she fancied it a most
+      extraordinary smile. The next instant she realized that it had been a
+      smile, for his face appeared to stop rippling, the light died, and
+      suddenly it was like rudely chiseled stone. The quality of hardness she
+      had seen in Stewart was immeasurably intensified in this old man's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, it's plumb humiliatin' to all of us thet we wasn't on hand
+      to meet you,&rdquo; Stillwell said. &ldquo;Me an' Al stepped into the P. O. an' said a
+      few mild an' cheerful things. Them messages ought to hev been sent out to
+      the ranch. I'm sure afraid it was a bit unpleasant fer you last night at
+      the station.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was rather anxious at first and perhaps frightened,&rdquo; replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I'm some glad to tell you thet there's no man in these parts except
+      your brother thet I'd as lief hev met you as Gene Stewart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, an' thet's takin' into consideration Gene's weakness, too. I'm allus
+      fond of sayin' of myself thet I'm the last of the old cattlemen. Wal,
+      Stewart's not a native Westerner, but he's my pick of the last of the
+      cowboys. Sure, he's young, but he's the last of the old style&mdash;the
+      picturesque&mdash;an' chivalrous, too, I make bold to say, Miss Majesty,
+      as well as the old hard-ridin' kind. Folks are down on Stewart. An' I'm
+      only sayin' a good word for him because he is down, an' mebbe last night
+      he might hev scared you, you bein' fresh from the East.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline liked the old fellow for his loyalty to the cowboy he evidently
+      cared for; but as there did not seem anything for her to say, she remained
+      silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, the day of the cattleman is about over. An' the day of the
+      cowboy, such as Gene Stewart, is over. There's no place for Gene. If these
+      weren't modern days he'd come near bein' a gun-man, same as we had in
+      Texas, when I ranched there in the 'seventies. But he can't fit nowhere
+      now; he can't hold a job, an' he's goin' down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry to hear it,&rdquo; murmured Madeline. &ldquo;But, Mr. Stillwell, aren't
+      these modern days out here just a little wild&mdash;yet? The conductor on
+      my train told me of rebels, bandits, raiders. Then I have had other
+      impressions of&mdash;well, that were wild enough for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, it's some more pleasant an' excitin' these days than for many
+      years,&rdquo; replied Stillwell. &ldquo;The boys hev took to packin' guns again. But
+      thet's owin' to the revolution in Mexico. There's goin' to be trouble
+      along the border. I reckon people in the East don't know there is a
+      revolution. Wal, Madero will oust Diaz, an' then some other rebel will
+      oust Madero. It means trouble on the border an' across the border, too. I
+      wouldn't wonder if Uncle Sam hed to get a hand in the game. There's
+      already been holdups on the railroads an' raids along the Rio Grande
+      Valley. An' these little towns are full of Greasers, all disturbed by the
+      fightin' down in Mexico. We've been hevin' shootin'-scrapes an'
+      knifin'-scrapes, an' some cattle-raidin'. I hev been losin' a few cattle
+      right along. Reminds me of old times; an' pretty soon if it doesn't stop,
+      I'll take the old-time way to stop it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, indeed, Majesty,&rdquo; put in Alfred, &ldquo;you have hit upon an interesting
+      time to visit us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, thet sure 'pears to be so,&rdquo; rejoined Stillwell. &ldquo;Stewart got in
+      trouble down heah to-day, an' I'm more than sorry to hev to tell you thet
+      your name figgered in it. But I couldn't blame him, fer I sure would hev
+      done the same myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That so?&rdquo; queried Alfred, laughing. &ldquo;Well, tell us about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline simply gazed at her brother, and, though he seemed amused at her
+      consternation, there was mortification in his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It required no great perspicuity, Madeline thought, to see that Stillwell
+      loved to talk, and the way he squared himself and spread his huge hands
+      over his knees suggested that he meant to do this opportunity justice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, I reckon, bein' as you're in the West now, thet you must
+      take things as they come, an' mind each thing a little less than the one
+      before. If we old fellers hedn't been thet way we'd never hev lasted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Last night wasn't particular bad, ratin' with some other nights lately.
+      There wasn't much doin'. But, I had a hard knock. Yesterday when we
+      started in with a bunch of cattle I sent one of my cowboys, Danny Mains,
+      along ahead, carryin' money I hed to pay off hands an' my bills, an' I
+      wanted thet money to get in town before dark. Wal, Danny was held up. I
+      don't distrust the lad. There's been strange Greasers in town lately, an'
+      mebbe they knew about the money comin'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, when I arrived with the cattle I was some put to it to make ends
+      meet. An' to-day I wasn't in no angelic humor. When I hed my business all
+      done I went around pokin' my nose beak an' there, tryin' to get scent of
+      thet money. An' I happened in at a hall we hev thet does duty fer' jail
+      an' hospital an' election-post an' what not. Wal, just then it was doin'
+      duty as a hospital. Last night was fiesta night&mdash;these Greasers hev a
+      fiesta every week or so&mdash;an' one Greaser who hed been bad hurt was
+      layin' in the hall, where he hed been fetched from the station. Somebody
+      hed sent off to Douglas fer a doctor, but be hedn't come yet. I've hed
+      some experience with gunshot wounds, an' I looked this feller over. He
+      wasn't shot up much, but I thought there was danger of blood-poison-in'.
+      Anyway, I did all I could.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The hall was full of cowboys, ranchers, Greasers, miners, an' town folks,
+      along with some strangers. I was about to get started up this way when Pat
+      Hawe come in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pat he's the sheriff. I reckon, Miss Majesty, thet sheriffs are new to
+      you, an' fer sake of the West I'll explain to you thet we don't hev many
+      of the real thing any more. Garrett, who killed Billy the Kid an' was
+      killed himself near a year or so ago&mdash;he was the kind of sheriff thet
+      helps to make a self-respectin' country. But this Pat Hawe&mdash;wal, I
+      reckon there's no good in me sayin' what I think of him. He come into the
+      hall, an' he was roarin' about things. He was goin' to arrest Danny Mains
+      on sight. Wal, I jest polite-like told Pat thet the money was mine an' he
+      needn't get riled about it. An' if I wanted to trail the thief I reckon I
+      could do it as well as anybody. Pat howled thet law was law, an' he was
+      goin' to lay down the law. Sure it 'peared to me thet Pat was daid set to
+      arrest the first man he could find excuse to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he cooled down a bit an' was askin' questions about the wounded
+      Greaser when Gene Stewart come in. Whenever Pat an' Gene come together it
+      reminds me of the early days back in the 'seventies. Jest naturally
+      everybody shut up. Fer Pat hates Gene, an' I reckon Gene ain't very sweet
+      on Pat. They're jest natural foes in the first place, an' then the course
+      of events here in El Cajon has been aggravatin'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Hello, Stewart! You're the feller I'm lookin' fer,' said Pat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart eyed him an' said, mighty cool an' sarcastic, 'Hawe, you look a
+      good deal fer me when I'm hittin' up the dust the other way.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pat went red at thet, but he held in. 'Say, Stewart, you-all think a lot
+      of thet roan horse of yourn, with the aristocratic name?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'I reckon I do,' replied Gene, shortly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Wal, where is he?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Thet's none of your business, Hawe.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Oho! it ain't, hey? Wal, I guess I can make it my business. Stewart,
+      there was some queer goings-on last night thet you know somethin' about.
+      Danny Mains robbed&mdash;Stillwell's money gone&mdash;your roan horse gone&mdash;thet
+      little hussy Bonita gone&mdash;an' this Greaser near gone, too. Now,
+      seein' thet you was up late an' prowlin' round the station where this
+      Greaser was found, it ain't onreasonable to think you might know how he
+      got plugged&mdash;is it?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart laughed kind of cold, an' he rolled a cigarette, all the time
+      eyin' Pat, an' then he said if he'd plugged the Greaser it 'd never hev
+      been sich a bunglin' job.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'I can arrest you on suspicion, Stewart, but before I go thet far I want
+      some evidence. I want to round up Danny Mains an' thet little Greaser
+      girl. I want to find out what's become of your hoss. You've never lent him
+      since you hed him, an' there ain't enough raiders across the border to
+      steal him from you. It's got a queer look&mdash;thet hoss bein' gone.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'You sure are a swell detective, Hawe, an' I wish you a heap of luck,'
+      replied Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thet 'peared to nettle Pat beyond bounds, an' he stamped around an'
+      swore. Then he had an idea. It jest stuck out all over him, an' he shook
+      his finger in Stewart's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'You was drunk last night?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart never batted an eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'You met some woman on Number Eight, didn't you?' shouted Hawe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'I met a lady,' replied Stewart, quiet an' menacin' like.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'You met Al Hammond's sister, an' you took her up to Kingsley's. An'
+      cinch this, my cowboy cavalier, I'm goin' up there an' ask this grand dame
+      some questions, an' if she's as close-mouthed as you are I'll arrest her!'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene Stewart turned white. I fer one expected to see him jump like
+      lightnin', as he does when he's riled sudden. But he was calm an' he was
+      thinkin' hard. Presently he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Pat, thet's a fool idee, an' if you do the trick it'll hurt you all the
+      rest of your life. There's absolutely no reason to frighten Miss Hammond.
+      An' tryin' to arrest her would be such a damned outrage as won't be stood
+      fer in El Cajon. If you're sore on me send me to jail. I'll go. If you
+      want to hurt Al Hammond, go an' do it some man kind of way. Don't take
+      your spite out on us by insultin' a lady who has come hyar to hev a little
+      visit. We're bad enough without bein' low-down as Greasers.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was a long talk for Gene, an' I was as surprised as the rest of the
+      fellers. Think of Gene Stewart talkin' soft an' sweet to thet red-eyed
+      coyote of a sheriff! An' Pat, he looked so devilishly gleeful thet if
+      somethin' about Gene hedn't held me tight I'd hev got in the game myself.
+      It was plain to me an' others who spoke of it afterwards thet Pat Hawe hed
+      forgotten the law an' the officer in the man an' his hate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'I'm a-goin', an' I'm a-goin' right now!' he shouted. &ldquo;An' after thet any
+      one could hev heerd a clock tick a mile off. Stewart seemed kind of
+      chokin', an' he seemed to hev been bewildered by the idee of Hawe's
+      confrontin' you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' finally he burst out: 'But, man, think who it is! It's Miss Hammond!
+      If you seen her, even if you was locoed or drunk, you&mdash;you couldn't
+      do it.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Couldn't I? Wal, I'll show you damn quick. What do I care who she is?
+      Them swell Eastern women&mdash;I've heerd of them. They're not so much.
+      This Hammond woman&mdash;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suddenly Hawe shut up, an' with his red mug turnin' green he went for his
+      gun.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell paused in his narrative to get breath, and he wiped his moist
+      brow. And now his face began to lose its cragginess. It changed, it
+      softened, it rippled and wrinkled, and all that strange mobility focused
+      and shone in a wonderful smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' then, Miss Majesty, then there was somethin' happened. Stewart took
+      Pat's gun away from him and throwed it on the floor. An' what followed was
+      beautiful. Sure it was the beautifulest sight I ever seen. Only it was
+      over so soon! A little while after, when the doctor came, he hed another
+      patient besides the wounded Greaser, an' he said thet this new one would
+      require about four months to be up an' around cheerful-like again. An'
+      Gene Stewart hed hit the trail for the border.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IV. A Ride From Sunrise To Sunset
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Next morning, when Madeline was aroused by her brother, it was not yet
+      daybreak; the air chilled her, and in the gray gloom she had to feel
+      around for matches and lamp. Her usual languid manner vanished at a touch
+      of the cold water. Presently, when Alfred knocked on her door and said he
+      was leaving a pitcher of hot water outside, she replied, with chattering
+      teeth, &ldquo;Th-thank y-you, b-but I d-don't ne-need any now.&rdquo; She found it
+      necessary, however, to warm her numb fingers before she could fasten hooks
+      and buttons. And when she was dressed she marked in the dim mirror that
+      there were tinges of red in her cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if I haven't some color!&rdquo; she exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Breakfast waited for her in the dining-room. The sisters ate with her.
+      Madeline quickly caught the feeling of brisk action that seemed to be in
+      the air. From the back of the house sounded the tramp of boots and voices
+      of men, and from outside came a dull thump of hoofs, the rattle of
+      harness, and creak of wheels. Then Alfred came stamping in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty, here's where you get the real thing,&rdquo; he announced, merrily.
+      &ldquo;We're rushing you off, I'm sorry to say; but we must hustle back to the
+      ranch. The fall round-up begins to-morrow. You will ride in the buck-board
+      with Florence and Stillwell. I'll ride on ahead with the boys and fix up a
+      little for you at the ranch. Your baggage will follow, but won't get there
+      till to-morrow sometime. It's a long ride out&mdash;nearly fifty miles by
+      wagon-road. Flo, don't forget a couple of robes. Wrap her up well. And
+      hustle getting ready. We're waiting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A little later, when Madeline went out with Florence, the gray gloom was
+      lightening. Horses were champing bits and pounding gravel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mawnin', Miss Majesty,&rdquo; said Stillwell, gruffly, from the front seat of a
+      high vehicle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred bundled her up into the back seat, and Florence after her, and
+      wrapped them with robes. Then he mounted his horse and started off.
+      &ldquo;Gid-eb!&rdquo; growled Stillwell, and with a crack of his whip the team jumped
+      into a trot. Florence whispered into Madeline's ear:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill's grouchy early in the mawnin'. He'll thaw out soon as it gets
+      warm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was still so gray that Madeline could not distinguish objects at any
+      considerable distance, and she left El Cajon without knowing what the town
+      really looked like. She did know that she was glad to get out of it, and
+      found an easier task of dispelling persistent haunting memory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here come the cowboys,&rdquo; said Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A line of horsemen appeared coming from the right and fell in behind
+      Alfred, and gradually they drew ahead, to disappear from sight. While
+      Madeline watched them the gray gloom lightened into dawn. All about her
+      was bare and dark; the horizon seemed close; not a hill nor a tree broke
+      the monotony. The ground appeared to be flat, but the road went up and
+      down over little ridges. Madeline glanced backward in the direction of El
+      Cajon and the mountains she had seen the day before, and she saw only bare
+      and dark ground, like that which rolled before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A puff of cold wind struck her face and she shivered. Florence noticed her
+      and pulled up the second robe and tucked it closely round her up to her
+      chin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If we have a little wind you'll sure feel it,&rdquo; said the Western girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline replied that she already felt it. The wind appeared to penetrate
+      the robes. It was cold, pure, nipping. It was so thin she had to breathe
+      as fast as if she were under ordinary exertion. It hurt her nose and made
+      her lungs ache.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aren't you co-cold?&rdquo; asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I?&rdquo; Florence laughed. &ldquo;I'm used to it. I never get cold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Western girl sat with ungloved hands on the outside of the robe she
+      evidently did not need to draw up around her. Madeline thought she had
+      never seen such a clear-eyed, healthy, splendid girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you like to see the sun rise?&rdquo; asked Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I think I do,&rdquo; replied Madeline, thoughtfully. &ldquo;Frankly, I have not
+      seen it for years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have beautiful sunrises, and sunsets from the ranch are glorious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Long lines of pink fire ran level with the eastern horizon, which appeared
+      to recede as day brightened. A bank of thin, fleecy clouds was turning
+      rose. To the south and west the sky was dark; but every moment it changed,
+      the blue turning bluer. The eastern sky was opalescent. Then in one place
+      gathered a golden light, and slowly concentrated till it was like fire.
+      The rosy bank of cloud turned to silver and pearl, and behind it shot up a
+      great circle of gold. Above the dark horizon gleamed an intensely bright
+      disk. It was the sun. It rose swiftly, blazing out the darkness between
+      the ridges and giving color and distance to the sweep of land.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, wal,&rdquo; drawled Stillwell, and stretched his huge arms as if he had
+      just awakened, &ldquo;thet's somethin' like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence nudged Madeline and winked at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fine mawnin', girls,&rdquo; went on old Bill, cracking his whip. &ldquo;Miss Majesty,
+      it'll be some oninterestin' ride all mawnin'. But when we get up a bit
+      you'll sure like it. There! Look to the southwest, jest over thet farthest
+      ridge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline swept her gaze along the gray, sloping horizon-line to where
+      dark-blue spires rose far beyond the ridge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Peloncillo Mountains,&rdquo; said Stillwell. &ldquo;Thet's home, when we get there.
+      We won't see no more of them till afternoon, when they rise up
+      sudden-like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Peloncillo! Madeline murmured the melodious name. Where had she heard it?
+      Then she remembered. The cowboy Stewart had told the little Mexican girl
+      Bonita to &ldquo;hit the Peloncillo trail.&rdquo; Probably the girl had ridden the
+      big, dark horse over this very road at night, alone. Madeline had a little
+      shiver that was not occasioned by the cold wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's a jack!&rdquo; cried Florence, suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw her first jack-rabbit. It was as large as a dog, and its ears
+      were enormous. It appeared to be impudently tame, and the horses kicked
+      dust over it as they trotted by. From then on old Bill and Florence vied
+      with each other in calling Madeline's attention to many things along the
+      way. Coyotes stealing away into the brush; buzzards flapping over the
+      carcass of a cow that had been mired in a wash; queer little lizards
+      running swiftly across the road; cattle grazing in the hollows; adobe huts
+      of Mexican herders; wild, shaggy horses, with heads high, watching from
+      the gray ridges&mdash;all these things Madeline looked at, indifferently
+      at first, because indifference had become habitual with her, and then with
+      an interest that flourished up and insensibly grew as she rode on. It grew
+      until sight of a little ragged Mexican boy astride the most diminutive
+      burro she had ever seen awakened her to the truth. She became conscious of
+      faint, unmistakable awakening of long-dead feelings&mdash;enthusiasm and
+      delight. When she realized that, she breathed deep of the cold, sharp air
+      and experienced an inward joy. And she divined then, though she did not
+      know why, that henceforth there was to be something new in her life,
+      something she had never felt before, something good for her soul in the
+      homely, the commonplace, the natural, and the wild.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, as Madeline gazed about her and listened to her companions, the
+      sun rose higher and grew warm and soared and grew hot; the horses held
+      tirelessly to their steady trot, and mile after mile of rolling land
+      slipped by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the top of a ridge Madeline saw down into a hollow where a few of the
+      cowboys had stopped and were sitting round a fire, evidently busy at the
+      noonday meal. Their horses were feeding on the long, gray grass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, smell of thet burnin' greasewood makes my mouth water,&rdquo; said
+      Stillwell. &ldquo;I'm sure hungry. We'll noon hyar an' let the hosses rest. It's
+      a long pull to the ranch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He halted near the camp-fire, and, clambering down, began to unharness the
+      team. Florence leaped out and turned to help Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Walk round a little,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You must be cramped from sitting still
+      so long. I'll get lunch ready.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline got down, glad to stretch her limbs, and began to stroll about.
+      She heard Stillwell throw the harness on the ground and slap his horses.
+      &ldquo;Roll, you sons-of-guns!&rdquo; he said. Both horses bent their fore legs,
+      heaved down on their sides, and tried to roll over. One horse succeeded on
+      the fourth try, and then heaved up with a satisfied snort and shook off
+      the dust and gravel. The other one failed to roll over, and gave it up,
+      half rose to his feet, and then lay down on the other side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's sure going to feel the ground,&rdquo; said Florence, smiling at Madeline.
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, I suppose that prize horse of yours&mdash;White Stockings&mdash;would
+      spoil his coat if he were heah to roll in this greasewood and cactus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      During lunch-time Madeline observed that she was an object of manifestly
+      great interest to the three cowboys. She returned the compliment, and was
+      amused to see that a glance their way caused them painful embarrassment.
+      They were grown men&mdash;one of whom had white hair&mdash;yet they acted
+      like boys caught in the act of stealing a forbidden look at a pretty girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cowboys are sure all flirts,&rdquo; said Florence, as if stating an
+      uninteresting fact. But Madeline detected a merry twinkle in her clear
+      eyes. The cowboys heard, and the effect upon them was magical. They fell
+      to shamed confusion and to hurried useless tasks. Madeline found it
+      difficult to see where they had been bold, though evidently they were
+      stricken with conscious guilt. She recalled appraising looks of critical
+      English eyes, impudent French stares, burning Spanish glances&mdash;gantlets
+      which any American girl had to run abroad. Compared with foreign eyes the
+      eyes of these cowboys were those of smiling, eager babies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haw, haw!&rdquo; roared Stillwell. &ldquo;Florence, you jest hit the nail on the
+      haid. Cowboys are all plumb flirts. I was wonderin' why them boys nooned
+      hyar. This ain't no place to noon. Ain't no grazin' or wood wuth burnin'
+      or nuthin'. Them boys jest held up, throwed the packs, an' waited fer us.
+      It ain't so surprisin' fer Booly an' Ned&mdash;they're young an' coltish&mdash;but
+      Nels there, why, he's old enough to be the paw of both you girls. It sure
+      is amazin' strange.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A silence ensued. The white-haired cowboy, Nels, fussed aimlessly over the
+      camp-fire, and then straightened up with a very red face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, you're a dog-gone liar,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I reckon I won't stand to be
+      classed with Booly an' Ned. There ain't no cowboy on this range thet's
+      more appreciatin' of the ladies than me, but I shore ain't ridin' out of
+      my way. I reckon I hev enough ridin' to do. Now, Bill, if you've sich
+      dog-gone good eyes mebbe you seen somethin' on the way out?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, I hevn't seen nothin',&rdquo; he replied, bluntly. His levity
+      disappeared, and the red wrinkles narrowed round his searching eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jest take a squint at these hoss tracks,&rdquo; said Nels, and he drew
+      Stillwell a few paces aside and pointed to large hoofprints in the dust.
+      &ldquo;I reckon you know the hoss thet made them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene Stewart's roan, or I'm a son-of-a-gun!&rdquo; exclaimed Stillwell, and he
+      dropped heavily to his knees and began to scrutinize the tracks. &ldquo;My eyes
+      are sure pore; but, Nels, they ain't fresh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon them tracks was made early yesterday mornin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, what if they was?&rdquo; Stillwell looked at his cowboy. &ldquo;It's sure as
+      thet red nose of yourn Gene wasn't ridin' the roan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who's sayin' he was? Bill, its more 'n your eyes thet's gettin' old. Jest
+      foller them tracks. Come on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell walked slowly, with his head bent, muttering to himself. Some
+      thirty paces or more from the camp-fire he stopped short and again flopped
+      to his knees. Then he crawled about, evidently examining horse tracks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, whoever was straddlin' Stewart's hoss met somebody. An' they hauled
+      up a bit, but didn't git down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tolerable good for you, Bill, thet reasonin',&rdquo; replied the cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell presently got up and walked swiftly to the left for some rods,
+      halted, and faced toward the southwest, then retraced his steps. He looked
+      at the imperturbable cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, I don't like this a little,&rdquo; he growled. &ldquo;Them tracks make straight
+      fer the Peloncillo trail.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shore,&rdquo; replied Nels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal?&rdquo; went on Stillwell, impatiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon you know what hoss made the other tracks?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm thinkin' hard, but I ain't sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was Danny Mains's bronc.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know thet?&rdquo; demanded Stillwell, sharply. &ldquo;Bill, the left front
+      foot of thet little hoss always wears a shoe thet sets crooked. Any of the
+      boys can tell you. I'd know thet track if I was blind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell's ruddy face clouded and he kicked at a cactus plant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was Danny comin' or goin'?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon he was hittin' across country fer the Peloncillo trail. But I
+      ain't shore of thet without back-trailin' him a ways. I was jest waitin'
+      fer you to come up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, you don't think the boy's sloped with thet little hussy, Bonita?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, he shore was sweet on Bonita, same as Gene was, an' Ed Linton
+      before he got engaged, an' all the boys. She's shore chain-lightnin', that
+      little black-eyed devil. Danny might hev sloped with her all right. Danny
+      was held up on the way to town, an' then in the shame of it he got drunk.
+      But he'll shew up soon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, mebbe you an' the boys are right. I believe you are. Nels, there
+      ain't no doubt on earth about who was ridin' Stewart's hoss?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thet's as plain as the hoss's tracks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, it's all amazin' strange. It beats me. I wish the boys would ease up
+      on drinkin'. I was pretty fond of Danny an' Gene. I'm afraid Gene's done
+      fer, sure. If he crosses the border where he can fight it won't take long
+      fer him to get plugged. I guess I'm gettin' old. I don't stand things like
+      I used to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, I reckon I'd better hit the Peloncillo trail. Mebbe I can find
+      Danny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon you had, Nels,&rdquo; replied Stillwell. &ldquo;But don't take more 'n a
+      couple of days. We can't do much on the round-up without you. I'm short of
+      boys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That ended the conversation. Stillwell immediately began to hitch up his
+      team, and the cowboys went out to fetch their strayed horses. Madeline had
+      been curiously interested, and she saw that Florence knew it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Things happen, Miss Hammond,&rdquo; she said, soberly, almost sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline thought. And then straightway Florence began brightly to hum a
+      tune and to busy herself repacking what was left of the lunch. Madeline
+      conceived a strong liking and respect for this Western girl. She admired
+      the consideration or delicacy or wisdom&mdash;what-ever it was&mdash;which
+      kept Florence from asking her what she knew or thought or felt about the
+      events that had taken place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon they were once more bowling along the road down a gradual incline,
+      and then they began to climb a long ridge that had for hours hidden what
+      lay beyond. That climb was rather tiresome, owing to the sun and the dust
+      and the restricted view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they reached the summit Madeline gave a little gasp of pleasure. A
+      deep, gray, smooth valley opened below and sloped up on the other side in
+      little ridges like waves, and these led to the foothills, dotted with
+      clumps of brush or trees, and beyond rose dark mountains, pine-fringed and
+      crag-spired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Miss Majesty, now we're gettin' somewhere,&rdquo; said Stillwell, cracking
+      his whip. &ldquo;Ten miles across this valley an' we'll be in the foothills
+      where the Apaches used to run.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ten miles!&rdquo; exclaimed Madeline. &ldquo;It looks no more than half a mile to
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, young woman, before you go to ridin' off alone you want to get your
+      eyes corrected to Western distance. Now, what'd you call them black things
+      off there on the slope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Horsemen. No, cattle,&rdquo; replied Madeline, doubtfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nope. Jest plain, every-day cactus. An' over hyar&mdash;look down the
+      valley. Somethin' of a pretty forest, ain't thet?&rdquo; he asked, pointing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw a beautiful forest in the center of the valley toward the
+      south.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Miss Majesty, thet's jest this deceivin' air. There's no forest.
+      It's a mirage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed! How beautiful it is!&rdquo; Madeline strained her gaze on the dark
+      blot, and it seemed to float in the atmosphere, to have no clearly defined
+      margins, to waver and shimmer, and then it faded and vanished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mountains dropped down again behind the horizon, and presently the
+      road began once more to slope up. The horses slowed to a walk. There was a
+      mile of rolling ridge, and then came the foothills. The road ascended
+      through winding valleys. Trees and brush and rocks began to appear in the
+      dry ravines. There was no water, yet all along the sandy washes were
+      indications of floods at some periods. The heat and the dust stifled
+      Madeline, and she had already become tired. Still she looked with all her
+      eyes and saw birds, and beautiful quail with crests, and rabbits, and once
+      she saw a deer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty,&rdquo; said Stillwell, &ldquo;in the early days the Indians made this
+      country a bad one to live in. I reckon you never heerd much about them
+      times. Surely you was hardly born then. I'll hev to tell you some day how
+      I fought Comanches in the Panhandle&mdash;thet was northern Texas&mdash;an'
+      I had some mighty hair-raisin' scares in this country with Apaches.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He told her about Cochise, chief of the Chiricahua Apaches, the most
+      savage and bloodthirsty tribe that ever made life a horror for the
+      pioneer. Cochise befriended the whites once; but he was the victim of that
+      friendliness, and he became the most implacable of foes. Then, Geronimo,
+      another Apache chief, had, as late as 1885, gone on the war-path, and had
+      left a bloody trail down the New Mexico and Arizona line almost to the
+      border. Lone ranchmen and cowboys had been killed, and mothers had shot
+      their children and then themselves at the approach of the Apache. The name
+      Apache curdled the blood of any woman of the Southwest in those days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline shuddered, and was glad when the old frontiersman changed the
+      subject and began to talk of the settling of that country by the
+      Spaniards, the legends of lost gold-mines handed down to the Mexicans, and
+      strange stories of heroism and mystery and religion. The Mexicans had not
+      advanced much in spite of the spread of civilization to the Southwest.
+      They were still superstitious, and believed the legends of treasures
+      hidden in the walls of their missions, and that unseen hands rolled rocks
+      down the gullies upon the heads of prospectors who dared to hunt for the
+      lost mines of the padres.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Up in the mountains back of my ranch there's a lost mine,&rdquo; said
+      Stillwell. &ldquo;Mebbe it's only a legend. But somehow I believe it's there.
+      Other lost mines hev been found. An' as fer' the rollin' stones, I sure
+      know thet's true, as any one can find out if he goes trailin' up the
+      gulch. Mebbe thet's only the weatherin' of the cliffs. It's a sleepy,
+      strange country, this Southwest, an', Miss Majesty, you're a-goin' to love
+      it. You'll call it ro-mantic, Wal, I reckon ro-mantic is correct. A feller
+      gets lazy out hyar an' dreamy, an' he wants to put off work till
+      to-morrow. Some folks say it's a land of manana&mdash;a land of to-morrow.
+      Thet's the Mexican of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I like best to think of what a lady said to me onct&mdash;an
+      eddicated lady like you, Miss Majesty. Wal, she said it's a land where
+      it's always afternoon. I liked thet. I always get up sore in the mawnin's,
+      an' don't feel good till noon. But in the afternoon I get sorta warm an'
+      like things. An' sunset is my time. I reckon I don't want nothin' any
+      finer than sunset from my ranch. You look out over a valley that spreads
+      wide between Guadalupe Mountains an' the Chiricahuas, down across the red
+      Arizona desert clear to the Sierra Madres in Mexico. Two hundred miles,
+      Miss Majesty! An' all as clear as print! An' the sun sets behind all thet!
+      When my time comes to die I'd like it to be on my porch smokin' my pipe
+      an' facin' the west.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the old cattleman talked on while Madeline listened, and Florence dozed
+      in her seat, and the sun began to wane, and the horses climbed steadily.
+      Presently, at the foot of the steep ascent, Stillwell got out and walked,
+      leading the team. During this long climb fatigue claimed Madeline, and she
+      drowsily closed her eyes, to find when she opened them again that the
+      glaring white sky had changed to a steel-blue. The sun had sunk behind the
+      foothills and the air was growing chilly. Stillwell had returned to the
+      driving-seat and was chuckling to the horses. Shadows crept up out of the
+      hollows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Flo,&rdquo; said Stillwell, &ldquo;I reckon we'd better hev the rest of thet
+      there lunch before dark.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You didn't leave much of it,&rdquo; laughed Florence, as she produced the
+      basket from under the seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While they ate, the short twilight shaded and gloom filled the hollows.
+      Madeline saw the first star, a faint, winking point of light. The sky had
+      now changed to a hazy gray. Madeline saw it gradually clear and darken, to
+      show other faint stars. After that there was perceptible deepening of the
+      gray and an enlarging of the stars and a brightening of new-born ones.
+      Night seemed to come on the cold wind. Madeline was glad to have the robes
+      close around her and to lean against Florence. The hollows were now black,
+      but the tops of the foothills gleamed pale in a soft light. The steady
+      tramp of the horses went on, and the creak of wheels and crunching of
+      gravel. Madeline grew so sleepy that she could not keep her weary eyelids
+      from falling. There were drowsier spells in which she lost a feeling of
+      where she was, and these were disturbed by the jolt of wheels over a rough
+      place. Then came a blank interval, short or long, which ended in a more
+      violent lurch of the buckboard. Madeline awoke to find her head on
+      Florence's shoulder. She sat up laughing and apologizing for her laziness.
+      Florence assured her they would soon reach the ranch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline observed then that the horses were once more trotting. The wind
+      was colder, the night darker, the foot-hills flatter. And the sky was now
+      a wonderful deep velvet-blue blazing with millions of stars. Some of them
+      were magnificent. How strangely white and alive! Again Madeline felt the
+      insistence of familiar yet baffling associations. These white stars called
+      strangely to her or haunted her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      V. The Round-Up
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was a crackling and roaring of fire that awakened Madeline next
+      morning, and the first thing she saw was a huge stone fireplace in which
+      lay a bundle of blazing sticks. Some one had kindled a fire while she
+      slept. For a moment the curious sensation of being lost returned to her.
+      She just dimly remembered reaching the ranch and being taken into a huge
+      house and a huge, dimly lighted room. And it seemed to her that she had
+      gone to sleep at once, and had awakened without remembering how she had
+      gotten to bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she was wide awake in an instant. The bed stood near one end of an
+      enormous chamber. The adobe walls resembled a hall in an ancient feudal
+      castle, stone-floored, stone-walled, with great darkened rafters running
+      across the ceiling. The few articles of furniture were worn out and sadly
+      dilapidated. Light flooded into the room from two windows on the right of
+      the fireplace and two on the left, and another large window near the
+      bedstead. Looking out from where she lay, Madeline saw a dark, slow
+      up-sweep of mountain. Her eyes returned to the cheery, snapping fire, and
+      she watched it while gathering courage to get up. The room was cold. When
+      she did slip her bare feet out upon the stone floor she very quickly put
+      them back under the warm blankets. And she was still in bed trying to
+      pluck up her courage when, with a knock on the door and a cheerful
+      greeting, Florence entered, carrying steaming hot water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good mawnin', Miss Hammond. Hope you slept well. You sure were tired last
+      night. I imagine you'll find this old rancho house as cold as a barn.
+      It'll warm up directly. Al's gone with the boys and Bill. We're to ride
+      down on the range after a while when your baggage comes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence wore a woolen blouse with a scarf round her neck, a short
+      corduroy divided skirt, and boots; and while she talked she energetically
+      heaped up the burning wood in the fireplace, and laid Madeline's clothes
+      at the foot of the bed, and heated a rug and put that on the floor by the
+      bedside. And lastly, with a sweet, direct smile, she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al told me&mdash;and I sure saw myself&mdash;that you weren't used to
+      being without your maid. Will you let me help you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, I am going to be my own maid for a while. I expect I do appear
+      a very helpless individual, but really I do not feel so. Perhaps I have
+      had just a little too much waiting on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right. Breakfast will be ready soon, and after that we'll look about
+      the place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was charmed with the old Spanish house, and the more she saw of
+      it the more she thought what a delightful home it could be made. All the
+      doors opened into a courtyard, or patio, as Florence called it. The house
+      was low, in the shape of a rectangle, and so immense in size that Madeline
+      wondered if it had been a Spanish barracks. Many of the rooms were dark,
+      without windows, and they were empty. Others were full of ranchers'
+      implements and sacks of grain and bales of hay. Florence called these last
+      alfalfa. The house itself appeared strong and well preserved, and it was
+      very picturesque. But in the living-rooms were only the barest
+      necessities, and these were worn out and comfortless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, when Madeline went outdoors she forgot the cheerless, bare
+      interior. Florence led the way out on a porch and waved a hand at a vast,
+      colored void. &ldquo;That's what Bill likes,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first Madeline could not tell what was sky and what was land. The
+      immensity of the scene stunned her faculties of conception. She sat down
+      in one of the old rocking-chairs and looked and looked, and knew that she
+      was not grasping the reality of what stretched wondrously before her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're up at the edge of the foothills,&rdquo; Florence said. &ldquo;You remember we
+      rode around the northern end of the mountain range? Well, that's behind us
+      now, and you look down across the line into Arizona and Mexico. That long
+      slope of gray is the head of the San Bernardino Valley. Straight across
+      you see the black Chiricahua Mountains, and away down to the south the
+      Guadalupe Mountains. That awful red gulf between is the desert, and far,
+      far beyond the dim, blue peaks are the Sierra Madres in Mexico.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline listened and gazed with straining eyes, and wondered if this was
+      only a stupendous mirage, and why it seemed so different from all else
+      that she had seen, and so endless, so baffling, so grand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It'll sure take you a little while to get used to being up high and
+      seeing so much,&rdquo; explained Florence. &ldquo;That's the secret&mdash;we're up
+      high, the air is clear, and there's the whole bare world beneath us. Don't
+      it somehow rest you? Well, it will. Now see those specks in the valley.
+      They are stations, little towns. The railroad goes down that way. The
+      largest speck is Chiricahua. It's over forty miles by trail. Here round to
+      the north you can see Don Carlos's rancho. He's fifteen miles off, and I
+      sure wish he were a thousand. That little green square about half-way
+      between here and Don Carlos&mdash;that's Al's ranch. Just below us are the
+      adobe houses of the Mexicans. There's a church, too. And here to the left
+      you see Stillwell's corrals and bunk-houses and his stables all falling to
+      pieces. The ranch has gone to ruin. All the ranches are going to ruin. But
+      most of them are little one-horse affairs. And here&mdash;see that cloud
+      of dust down in the valley? It's the round-up. The boys are there, and the
+      cattle. Wait, I'll get the glasses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By their aid Madeline saw in the foreground a great, dense herd of cattle
+      with dark, thick streams and dotted lines of cattle leading in every
+      direction. She saw streaks and clouds of dust, running horses, and a band
+      of horses grazing; and she descried horsemen standing still like
+      sentinels, and others in action.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The round-up! I want to know all about it&mdash;to see it,&rdquo; declared
+      Madeline. &ldquo;Please tell me what it means, what it's for, and then take me
+      down there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's sure a sight, Miss Hammond. I'll be glad to take you down, but I
+      fancy you'll not want to go close. Few Eastern people who regularly eat
+      their choice cuts of roast beef and porterhouse have any idea of the open
+      range and the struggle cattle have to live and the hard life of cowboys.
+      It'll sure open your eyes, Miss Hammond. I'm glad you care to know. Your
+      brother would have made a big success in this cattle business if it hadn't
+      been for crooked work by rival ranchers. He'll make it yet, in spite of
+      them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed he shall,&rdquo; replied Madeline. &ldquo;But tell me, please, all about the
+      round-up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, in the first place, every cattleman has to have a brand to identify
+      his stock. Without it no cattleman, nor half a hundred cowboys, if he had
+      so many, could ever recognize all the cattle in a big herd. There are no
+      fences on our ranges. They are all open to everybody. Some day I hope
+      we'll be rich enough to fence a range. The different herds graze together.
+      Every calf has to be caught, if possible, and branded with the mark of its
+      mother. That's no easy job. A maverick is an unbranded calf that has been
+      weaned and shifts for itself. The maverick then belongs to the man who
+      finds it and brands it. These little calves that lose their mothers sure
+      have a cruel time of it. Many of them die. Then the coyotes and wolves and
+      lions prey on them. Every year we have two big round-ups, but the boys do
+      some branding all the year. A calf should be branded as soon as it's
+      found. This is a safeguard against cattle-thieves. We don't have the
+      rustling of herds and bunches of cattle like we used to. But there's
+      always the calf-thief, and always will be as long as there's
+      cattle-raising. The thieves have a good many cunning tricks. They kill the
+      calf's mother or slit the calf's tongue so it can't suck and so loses its
+      mother. They steal and hide a calf and watch it till it's big enough to
+      fare for itself, and then brand it. They make imperfect brands and finish
+      them at a later time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have our big round-up in the fall, when there's plenty of grass and
+      water, and all the riding-stock as well as the cattle are in fine shape.
+      The cattlemen in the valley meet with their cowboys and drive in all the
+      cattle they can find. Then they brand and cut out each man's herd and
+      drive it toward home. Then they go on up or down the valley, make another
+      camp, and drive in more cattle. It takes weeks. There are so many Greasers
+      with little bands of stock, and they are crafty and greedy. Bill says he
+      knows Greaser cowboys, vaqueros, who never owned a steer or a cow, and now
+      they've got growing herds. The same might be said of more than one white
+      cowboy. But there's not as much of that as there used to be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the horses? I want to know about them,&rdquo; said Madeline, when Florence
+      paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the cow-ponies! Well, they sure are interesting. Broncos, the boys
+      call them. Wild! they're wilder than the steers they have to chase. Bill's
+      got broncos heah that never have been broken and never will be. And not
+      every boy can ride them, either. The vaqueros have the finest horses. Don
+      Carlos has a black that I'd give anything to own. And he has other fine
+      stock. Gene Stewart's big roan is a Mexican horse, the swiftest and
+      proudest I ever saw. I was up on him once and&mdash;oh, he can run! He
+      likes a woman, too, and that's sure something I want in a horse. I heard
+      Al and Bill talking at breakfast about a horse for you. They were
+      wrangling. Bill wanted you to have one, and Al another. It was funny to
+      hear them. Finally they left the choice to me, until the round-up is over.
+      Then I suppose every cowboy on the range will offer you his best mount.
+      Come, let's go out to the corrals and look over the few horses left.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For Madeline the morning hours flew by, with a goodly part of the time
+      spent on the porch gazing out over that ever-changing vista. At noon a
+      teamster drove up with her trunks. Then while Florence helped the Mexican
+      woman get lunch Madeline unpacked part of her effects and got out things
+      for which she would have immediate need. After lunch she changed her dress
+      for a riding-habit and, going outside, found Florence waiting with the
+      horses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Western girl's clear eyes seemed to take stock of Madeline's
+      appearance in one swift, inquisitive glance and then shone with pleasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You sure look&mdash;you're a picture, Miss Hammond. That riding-outfit is
+      a new one. What it 'd look like on me or another woman I can't imagine,
+      but on you it's&mdash;it's stunning. Bill won't let you go within a mile
+      of the cowboys. If they see you that'll be the finish of the round-up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While they rode down the slope Florence talked about the open ranges of
+      New Mexico and Arizona.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Water is scarce,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;If Bill could afford to pipe water down from
+      the mountains he'd have the finest ranch in the valley.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went on to tell that the climate was mild in winter and hot in summer.
+      Warm, sunshiny days prevailed nearly all the year round. Some summers it
+      rained, and occasionally there would be a dry year, the dreaded ano seco
+      of the Mexicans. Rain was always expected and prayed for in the midsummer
+      months, and when it came the grama-grass sprang up, making the valleys
+      green from mountain to mountain. The intersecting valleys, ranging between
+      the long slope of foothills, afforded the best pasture for cattle, and
+      these were jealously sought by the Mexicans who had only small herds to
+      look after. Stillwell's cowboys were always chasing these vaqueros off
+      land that belonged to Stillwell. He owned twenty thousand acres of
+      unfenced land adjoining the open range. Don Carlos possessed more acreage
+      than that, and his cattle were always mingling with Stillwell's. And in
+      turn Don Carlos's vaqueros were always chasing Stillwell's cattle away
+      from the Mexican's watering-place. Bad feeling had been manifested for
+      years, and now relations were strained to the breaking-point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Madeline rode along she made good use of her eyes. The soil was sandy
+      and porous, and she understood why the rain and water from the few springs
+      disappeared so quickly. At a little distance the grama-grass appeared
+      thick, but near at hand it was seen to be sparse. Bunches of greasewood
+      and cactus plants were interspersed here and there in the grass. What
+      surprised Madeline was the fact that, though she and Florence had seemed
+      to be riding quite awhile, they had apparently not drawn any closer to the
+      round-up. The slope of the valley was noticeable only after some miles had
+      been traversed. Looking forward, Madeline imagined the valley only a few
+      miles wide. She would have been sure she could walk her horse across it in
+      an hour. Yet that black, bold range of Chiricahua Mountains was distant a
+      long day's journey for even a hard-riding cowboy. It was only by looking
+      back that Madeline could grasp the true relation of things; she could not
+      be deceived by distance she had covered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gradually the black dots enlarged and assumed shape of cattle and horses
+      moving round a great dusty patch. In another half-hour Madeline rode
+      behind Florence to the outskirts of the scene of action. They drew rein
+      near a huge wagon in the neighborhood of which were more than a hundred
+      horses grazing and whistling and trotting about and lifting heads to watch
+      the new-comers. Four cowboys stood mounted guard over this drove of
+      horses. Perhaps a quarter of a mile farther out was a dusty melee. A roar
+      of tramping hoofs filled Madeline's ears. The lines of marching cattle had
+      merged into a great, moving herd half obscured by dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can make little of what is going on,&rdquo; said Madeline. &ldquo;I want to go
+      closer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They trotted across half the intervening distance, and when Florence
+      halted again Madeline was still not satisfied and asked to be taken
+      nearer. This time, before they reined in again, Al Hammond saw them and
+      wheeled his horse in their direction. He yelled something which Madeline
+      did not understand, and then halted them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Close enough,&rdquo; he called; and in the din his voice was not very clear.
+      &ldquo;It's not safe. Wild steers! I'm glad you came, girls. Majesty, what do
+      you think of that bunch of cattle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline could scarcely reply what she thought, for the noise and dust and
+      ceaseless action confused her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They're milling, Al,&rdquo; said Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We just rounded them up. They're milling, and that's bad. The vaqueros
+      are hard drivers. They beat us all hollow, and we drove some, too.&rdquo; He was
+      wet with sweat, black with dust, and out of breath. &ldquo;I'm off now. Flo, my
+      sister will have enough of this in about two minutes. Take her back to the
+      wagon. I'll tell Bill you're here, and run in whenever I get a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The bawling and bellowing, the crackling of horns and pounding of hoofs,
+      the dusty whirl of cattle, and the flying cowboys disconcerted Madeline
+      and frightened her a little; but she was intensely interested and meant to
+      stay there until she saw for herself what that strife of sound and action
+      meant. When she tried to take in the whole scene she did not make out
+      anything clearly and she determined to see it little by little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you stay longer?&rdquo; asked Florence; and, receiving an affirmative
+      reply, she warned Madeline: &ldquo;If a runaway steer or angry cow comes this
+      way let your horse go. He'll get out of the way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That lent the situation excitement, and Madeline became absorbed. The
+      great mass of cattle seemed to be eddying like a whirlpool, and from that
+      Madeline understood the significance of the range word &ldquo;milling.&rdquo; But when
+      Madeline looked at one end of the herd she saw cattle standing still,
+      facing outward, and calves cringing close in fear. The motion of the
+      cattle slowed from the inside of the herd to the outside and gradually
+      ceased. The roar and tramp of hoofs and crack of horns and thump of heads
+      also ceased in degree, but the bawling and bellowing continued. While she
+      watched, the herd spread, grew less dense, and stragglers appeared to be
+      about to bolt through the line of mounted cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From that moment so many things happened, and so swiftly, that Madeline
+      could not see a tenth of what was going on within eyesight. It seemed
+      horsemen darted into the herd and drove out cattle. Madeline pinned her
+      gaze on one cowboy who rode a white horse and was chasing a steer. He
+      whirled a lasso around his head and threw it; the rope streaked out and
+      the loop caught the leg of the steer. The white horse stopped with
+      wonderful suddenness, and the steer slid in the dust. Quick as a flash the
+      cowboy was out of the saddle, and, grasping the legs of the steer before
+      it could rise, he tied them with a rope. It had all been done almost as
+      quickly as thought. Another man came with what Madeline divined was a
+      branding-iron. He applied it to the flank of the steer. Then it seemed the
+      steer was up with a jump, wildly looking for some way to run, and the
+      cowboy was circling his lasso. Madeline saw fires in the background, with
+      a man in charge, evidently heating the irons. Then this same cowboy roped
+      a heifer which bawled lustily when the hot iron seared its hide. Madeline
+      saw the smoke rising from the touch of the iron, and the sight made her
+      shrink and want to turn away, but she resolutely fought her sensitiveness.
+      She had never been able to bear the sight of any animal suffering. The
+      rough work in men's lives was as a sealed book to her; and now, for some
+      reason beyond her knowledge, she wanted to see and hear and learn some of
+      the every-day duties that made up those lives.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look, Miss Hammond, there's Don Carlos!&rdquo; said Florence. &ldquo;Look at that
+      black horse!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeleine saw a dark-faced Mexican riding by. He was too far away for her
+      to distinguish his features, but he reminded her of an Italian brigand. He
+      bestrode a magnificent horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell rode up to the girls then and greeted them in his big voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right in the thick of it, hey? Wal, thet's sure fine. I'm glad to see,
+      Miss Majesty, thet you ain't afraid of a little dust or smell of burnin'
+      hide an' hair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Couldn't you brand the calves without hurting them?&rdquo; asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haw, haw! Why, they ain't hurt none. They jest bawl for their mammas.
+      Sometimes, though, we hev to hurt one jest to find which is his mamma.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to know how you tell what brand to put on those calves that are
+      separated from their mothers,&rdquo; asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thet's decided by the round-up bosses. I've one boss an' Don Carlos has
+      one. They decide everything, an' they hev to be obyed. There's Nick
+      Steele, my boss. Watch him! He's ridin' a bay in among the cattle there.
+      He orders the calves an' steers to be cut out. Then the cowboys do the
+      cuttin' out an' the brandin'. We try to divide up the mavericks as near as
+      possible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this juncture Madeline's brother joined the group, evidently in search
+      of Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, Nels just rode in,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good! We sure need him. Any news of Danny Mains?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Nels said he lost the trail when he got on hard ground.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, wal. Say, Al, your sister is sure takin' to the round-up. An' the
+      boys are gettin' wise. See thet sun-of-a-gun Ambrose cuttin' capers all
+      around. He'll sure do his prettiest. Ambrose is a ladies' man, he thinks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men and Florence joined in a little pleasant teasing of Madeline,
+      and drew her attention to what appeared to be really unnecessary feats of
+      horsemanship all made in her vicinity. The cowboys evinced their interest
+      in covert glances while recoiling a lasso or while passing to and fro. It
+      was all too serious for Madeline to be amused at that moment. She did not
+      care to talk. She sat her horse and watched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lithe, dark vaqueros fascinated her. They were here, there,
+      everywhere, with lariats flying, horses plunging back, jerking calves and
+      yearlings to the grass. They were cruel to their mounts, cruel to their
+      cattle. Madeline winced as the great silver rowels of the spurs went
+      plowing into the flanks of their horses. She saw these spurs stained with
+      blood, choked with hair. She saw the vaqueros break the legs of calves and
+      let them lie till a white cowboy came along and shot them. Calves were
+      jerked down and dragged many yards; steers were pulled by one leg. These
+      vaqueros were the most superb horsemen Madeline had ever seen, and she had
+      seen the Cossacks and Tatars of the Russian steppes. They were swift,
+      graceful, daring; they never failed to catch a running steer, and the
+      lassoes always went true. What sharp dashes the horses made, and wheelings
+      here and there, and sudden stops, and how they braced themselves to
+      withstand the shock!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboys, likewise, showed wonderful horsemanship, and, reckless as
+      they were, Madeline imagined she saw consideration for steed and cattle
+      that was wanting in the vaqueros. They changed mounts oftener than the
+      Mexican riders, and the horses they unsaddled for fresh ones were not so
+      spent, so wet, so covered with lather. It was only after an hour or more
+      of observation that Madeline began to realize the exceedingly toilsome and
+      dangerous work cowboys had to perform. There was little or no rest for
+      them. They were continually among wild and vicious and wide-horned steers.
+      In many instances they owed their lives to their horses. The danger came
+      mostly when the cowboy leaped off to tie and brand a calf he had thrown.
+      Some of the cows charged with lowered, twisting horns. Time and again
+      Madeline's heart leaped to her throat for fear a man would be gored. One
+      cowboy roped a calf that bawled loudly. Its mother dashed in and just
+      missed the kneeling cowboy as he rolled over. Then he had to run, and he
+      could not run very fast. He was bow-legged and appeared awkward. Madeline
+      saw another cowboy thrown and nearly run over by a plunging steer. His
+      horse bolted as if it intended to leave the range. Then close by Madeline
+      a big steer went down at the end of a lasso. The cowboy who had thrown it
+      nimbly jumped down, and at that moment his horse began to rear and prance
+      and suddenly to lower his head close to the ground and kick high. He ran
+      round in a circle, the fallen steer on the taut lasso acting as a pivot.
+      The cowboy loosed the rope from the steer, and then was dragged about on
+      the grass. It was almost frightful for Madeline to see that cowboy go at
+      his horse. But she recognized the mastery and skill. Then two horses came
+      into collision on the run. One horse went down; the rider of the other was
+      unseated and was kicked before he could get up. This fellow limped to his
+      mount and struck at him, while the horse showed his teeth in a vicious
+      attempt to bite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the while this ceaseless activity was going on there was a strange
+      uproar&mdash;bawl and bellow, the shock of heavy bodies meeting and
+      falling, the shrill jabbering of the vaqueros, and the shouts and
+      banterings of the cowboys. They took sharp orders and replied in jest.
+      They went about this stern toil as if it were a game to be played in good
+      humor. One sang a rollicking song, another whistled, another smoked a
+      cigarette. The sun was hot, and they, like their horses, were dripping
+      with sweat. The characteristic red faces had taken on so much dust that
+      cowboys could not be distinguished from vaqueros except by the difference
+      in dress. Blood was not wanting on tireless hands. The air was thick,
+      oppressive, rank with the smell of cattle and of burning hide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline began to sicken. She choked with dust, was almost stifled by the
+      odor. But that made her all the more determined to stay there. Florence
+      urged her to come away, or at least move back out of the worst of it.
+      Stillwell seconded Florence. Madeline, however, smilingly refused. Then
+      her brother said: &ldquo;Here, this is making you sick. You're pale.&rdquo; And she
+      replied that she intended to stay until the day's work ended. Al gave her
+      a strange look, and made no more comment. The kindly Stillwell then began
+      to talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, you're seein' the life of the cattleman an' cowboy&mdash;the
+      real thing&mdash;same as it was in the early days. The ranchers in Texas
+      an' some in Arizona hev took on style, new-fangled idees thet are good,
+      an' I wish we could follow them. But we've got to stick to the
+      old-fashioned, open-range round-up. It looks cruel to you, I can see thet.
+      Wal, mebbe so, mebbe so. Them Greasers are cruel, thet's certain. Fer thet
+      matter, I never seen a Greaser who wasn't cruel. But I reckon all the
+      strenuous work you've seen to-day ain't any tougher than most any day of a
+      cowboy's life. Long hours on hossback, poor grub, sleepin' on the ground,
+      lonesome watches, dust an' sun an' wind an' thirst, day in an' day out all
+      the year round&mdash;thet's what a cowboy has.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at Nels there. See, what little hair he has is snow-white. He's red
+      an' thin an' hard&mdash;burned up. You notice thet hump of his shoulders.
+      An' his hands, when he gets close&mdash;jest take a peep at his hands.
+      Nels can't pick up a pin. He can't hardly button his shirt or untie a knot
+      in his rope. He looks sixty years&mdash;an old man. Wal, Nels 'ain't seen
+      forty. He's a young man, but he's seen a lifetime fer every year. Miss
+      Majesty, it was Arizona thet made Nels what he is, the Arizona desert an'
+      the work of a cowman. He's seen ridin' at Canyon Diablo an' the Verdi an'
+      Tonto Basin. He knows every mile of Aravaipa Valley an' the Pinaleno
+      country. He's ranged from Tombstone to Douglas. He hed shot bad white men
+      an' bad Greasers before he was twenty-one. He's seen some life, Nels has.
+      My sixty years ain't nothin'; my early days in the Staked Plains an' on
+      the border with Apaches ain't nothin' to what Nels has seen an' lived
+      through. He's just come to be part of the desert; you might say he's stone
+      an' fire an' silence an' cactus an' force. He's a man, Miss Majesty, a
+      wonderful man. Rough he'll seem to you. Wal, I'll show you pieces of
+      quartz from the mountains back of my ranch an' they're thet rough they'd
+      cut your hands. But there's pure gold in them. An' so it is with Nels an'
+      many of these cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' there's Price&mdash;Monty Price. Monty stands fer Montana, where he
+      hails from. Take a good look at him, Miss Majesty. He's been hurt, I
+      reckon. Thet accounts fer him bein' without hoss or rope; an' thet limp.
+      Wal, he's been ripped a little. It's sure rare an seldom thet a cowboy
+      gets foul of one of them thousands of sharp horns; but it does happen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw a very short, wizened little man, ludicrously bow-legged,
+      with a face the color and hardness of a burned-out cinder. He was hobbling
+      by toward the wagon, and one of his short, crooked legs dragged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not much to look at, is he?&rdquo; went on Stillwell. &ldquo;Wal; I know it's natural
+      thet we're all best pleased by good looks in any one, even a man. It
+      hedn't ought to be thet way. Monty Price looks like hell. But appearances
+      are sure deceivin'. Monty saw years of ridin' along the Missouri bottoms,
+      the big prairies, where there's high grass an' sometimes fires. In Montana
+      they have blizzards that freeze cattle standin' in their tracks. An'
+      hosses freeze to death. They tell me thet a drivin' sleet in the face with
+      the mercury forty below is somethin' to ride against. You can't get Monty
+      to say much about cold. All you hev to do is to watch him, how he hunts
+      the sun. It never gets too hot fer Monty. Wal, I reckon he was a little
+      more prepossessin' once. The story thet come to us about Monty is this: He
+      got caught out in a prairie fire an' could hev saved himself easy, but
+      there was a lone ranch right in the line of fire, an' Monty knowed the
+      rancher was away, an' his wife an' baby was home. He knowed, too, the way
+      the wind was, thet the ranch-house would burn. It was a long chance he was
+      takin'. But he went over, put the woman up behind him, wrapped the baby
+      an' his hoss's haid in a wet blanket, an' rode away. Thet was sure some
+      ride, I've heerd. But the fire ketched Monty at the last. The woman fell
+      an' was lost, an' then his hoss. An' Monty ran an' walked an' crawled
+      through the fire with thet baby, an' he saved it. Monty was never much
+      good as a cowboy after thet. He couldn't hold no jobs. Wal, he'll have one
+      with me as long as I have a steer left.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VI. A Gift and A Purchase
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      For a week the scene of the round-up lay within riding-distance of the
+      ranch-house, and Madeline passed most of this time in the saddle, watching
+      the strenuous labors of the vaqueros and cowboys. She overestimated her
+      strength, and more than once had to be lifted from her horse. Stillwell's
+      pleasure in her attendance gave place to concern. He tried to persuade her
+      to stay away from the round-up, and Florence grew even more solicitous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, however, was not moved by their entreaties. She grasped only
+      dimly the truth of what it was she was learning&mdash;something infinitely
+      more than the rounding up of cattle by cowboys, and she was loath to lose
+      an hour of her opportunity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her brother looked out for her as much as his duties permitted; but for
+      several days he never once mentioned her growing fatigue and the strain of
+      excitement, or suggested that she had better go back to the house with
+      Florence. Many times she felt the drawing power of his keen blue eyes on
+      her face. And at these moments she sensed more than brotherly regard. He
+      was watching her, studying her, weighing her, and the conviction was
+      vaguely disturbing. It was disquieting for Madeline to think that Alfred
+      might have guessed her trouble. From time to time he brought cowboys to
+      her and introduced them, and laughed and jested, trying to make the ordeal
+      less embarrassing for these men so little used to women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before the week was out, however, Alfred found occasion to tell her that
+      it would be wiser for her to let the round-up go on without gracing it
+      further with her presence. He said it laughingly; nevertheless, he was
+      serious. And when Madeline turned to him in surprise he said, bluntly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't like the way Don Carlos follows you around. Bill's afraid that
+      Nels or Ambrose or one of the cowboys will take a fall out of the Mexican.
+      They're itching for the chance. Of course, dear, it's absurd to you, but
+      it's true.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Absurd it certainly was, yet it served to show Madeline how intensely
+      occupied she had been with her own feelings, roused by the tumult and toil
+      of the round-up. She recalled that Don Carlos had been presented to her,
+      and that she had not liked his dark, striking face with its bold,
+      prominent, glittering eyes and sinister lines; and she had not liked his
+      suave, sweet, insinuating voice or his subtle manner, with its slow bows
+      and gestures. She had thought he looked handsome and dashing on the
+      magnificent black horse. However, now that Alfred's words made her think,
+      she recalled that wherever she had been in the field the noble horse, with
+      his silver-mounted saddle and his dark rider, had been always in her
+      vicinity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don Carlos has been after Florence for a long time,&rdquo; said Alfred. &ldquo;He's
+      not a young man by any means. He's fifty, Bill says; but you can seldom
+      tell a Mexican's age from his looks. Don Carlos is well educated and a man
+      we know very little about. Mexicans of his stamp don't regard women as we
+      white men do. Now, my dear, beautiful sister from New York, I haven't much
+      use for Don Carlos; but I don't want Nels or Ambrose to make a wild throw
+      with a rope and pull the Don off his horse. So you had better ride up to
+      the house and stay there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alfred, you are joking, teasing me,&rdquo; said Madeline. &ldquo;Indeed not,&rdquo; replied
+      Alfred. &ldquo;How about it, Flo?&rdquo; Florence replied that the cowboys would upon
+      the slightest provocation treat Don Carlos with less ceremony and
+      gentleness than a roped steer. Old Bill Stillwell came up to be importuned
+      by Alfred regarding the conduct of cowboys on occasion, and he not only
+      corroborated the assertion, but added emphasis and evidence of his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An', Miss Majesty,&rdquo; he concluded, &ldquo;I reckon if Gene Stewart was ridin'
+      fer me, thet grinnin' Greaser would hev hed a bump in the dust before
+      now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had been wavering between sobriety and laughter until Stillwell's
+      mention of his ideal of cowboy chivalry decided in favor of the laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not convinced, but I surrender,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You have only some
+      occult motive for driving me away. I am sure that handsome Don Carlos is
+      being unjustly suspected. But as I have seen a little of cowboys' singular
+      imagination and gallantry, I am rather inclined to fear their
+      possibilities. So good-by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she rode with Florence up the long, gray slope to the ranch-house.
+      That night she suffered from excessive weariness, which she attributed
+      more to the strange working of her mind than to riding and sitting her
+      horse. Morning, however, found her in no disposition to rest. It was not
+      activity that she craved, or excitement, or pleasure. An unerring
+      instinct, rising dear from the thronging sensations of the last few days,
+      told her that she had missed something in life. It could not have been
+      love, for she loved brother, sister, parents, friends; it could not have
+      been consideration for the poor, the unfortunate, the hapless; she had
+      expressed her sympathy for these by giving freely; it could not have been
+      pleasure, culture, travel, society, wealth, position, fame, for these had
+      been hers all her life. Whatever this something was, she had baffling
+      intimations of it, hopes that faded on the verge of realizations, haunting
+      promises that were unfulfilled. Whatever it was, it had remained hidden
+      and unknown at home, and here in the West it began to allure and drive her
+      to discovery. Therefore she could not rest; she wanted to go and see; she
+      was no longer chasing phantoms; it was a hunt for treasure that held
+      aloof, as intangible as the substance of dreams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That morning she spoke a desire to visit the Mexican quarters lying at the
+      base of the foothills. Florence protested that this was no place to take
+      Madeline. But Madeline insisted, and it required only a few words and a
+      persuading smile to win Florence over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the porch the cluster of adobe houses added a picturesque touch of
+      color and contrast to the waste of gray valley. Near at hand they proved
+      the enchantment lent by distance. They were old, crumbling, broken down,
+      squalid. A few goats climbed around upon them; a few mangy dogs barked
+      announcement of visitors; and then a troop of half-naked, dirty, ragged
+      children ran out. They were very shy, and at first retreated in affright.
+      But kind words and smiles gained their confidence, and then they followed
+      in a body, gathering a quota of new children at each house. Madeline at
+      once conceived the idea of doing something to better the condition of
+      these poor Mexicans, and with this in mind she decided to have a look
+      indoors. She fancied she might have been an apparition, judging from the
+      effect her presence had upon the first woman she encountered. While
+      Florence exercised what little Spanish she had command of, trying to get
+      the women to talk, Madeline looked about the miserable little rooms. And
+      there grew upon her a feeling of sickness, which increased as she passed
+      from one house to another. She had not believed such squalor could exist
+      anywhere in America. The huts reeked with filth; vermin crawled over the
+      dirt floors. There was absolutely no evidence of water, and she believed
+      what Florence told her&mdash;that these people never bathed. There was
+      little evidence of labor. Idle men and women smoking cigarettes lolled
+      about, some silent, others jabbering. They did not resent the visit of the
+      American women, nor did they show hospitality. They appeared stupid.
+      Disease was rampant in these houses; when the doors were shut there was no
+      ventilation, and even with the doors open Madeline felt choked and
+      stifled. A powerful penetrating odor pervaded the rooms that were less
+      stifling than others, and this odor Florence explained came from a liquor
+      the Mexicans distilled from a cactus plant. Here drunkenness was manifest,
+      a terrible inert drunkenness that made its victims deathlike.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline could not extend her visit to the little mission-house. She saw a
+      padre, a starved, sad-faced man who, she instinctively felt, was good. She
+      managed to mount her horse and ride up to the house; but, once there, she
+      weakened and Florence had almost to carry her in-doors. She fought off a
+      faintness, only to succumb to it when alone in her room. Still, she did
+      not entirely lose consciousness, and soon recovered to the extent that she
+      did not require assistance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the morning after the end of the round-up, when she went out on the
+      porch, her brother and Stillwell appeared to be arguing about the identity
+      of a horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I reckon it's my old roan,&rdquo; said Stillwell, shading his eyes with
+      his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, if that isn't Stewart's horse my eyes are going back on me,&rdquo;
+       replied Al. &ldquo;It's not the color or shape&mdash;the distance is too far to
+      judge by that. It's the motion&mdash;the swing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al, mebbe you're right. But they ain't no rider up on thet hoss. Flo,
+      fetch my glass.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence went into the house, while Madeline tried to discover the object
+      of attention. Presently far up the gray hollow along a foothill she saw
+      dust, and then the dark, moving figure of a horse. She was watching when
+      Florence returned with the glass. Bill took a long look, adjusted the
+      glasses carefully, and tried again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I hate to admit my eyes are gettin' pore. But I guess I'll hev to.
+      Thet's Gene Stewart's hoss, saddled, an' comin' at a fast clip without a
+      rider. It's amazin' strange, an' some in keepin' with other things
+      concernin' Gene.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me the glass,&rdquo; said Al. &ldquo;Yes, I was right. Bill, the horse is not
+      frightened. He's coming steadily; he's got something on his mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thet's a trained hoss, Al. He has more sense than some men I know. Take a
+      look with the glasses up the hollow. See anybody?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Swing up over the foothills&mdash;where the trail leads. Higher&mdash;along
+      thet ridge where the rocks begin. See anybody?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Jove! Bill&mdash;two horses! But I can't make out much for dust. They
+      are climbing fast. One horse gone among the rocks. There&mdash;the other's
+      gone. What do you make of that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I can't make no more 'n you. But I'll bet we know somethin' soon,
+      fer Gene's hoss is comin' faster as he nears the ranch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The wide hollow sloping up into the foothills lay open to unobstructed
+      view, and less than half a mile distant Madeline saw the riderless horse
+      coming along the white trail at a rapid canter. She watched him, recalling
+      the circumstances under which she had first seen him, and then his wild
+      flight through the dimly lighted streets of El Cajon out into the black
+      night. She thrilled again and believed she would never think of that
+      starry night's adventure without a thrill. She watched the horse and felt
+      more than curiosity. A shrill, piercing whistle pealed in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, he's seen us, thet's sure,&rdquo; said Bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The horse neared the corrals, disappeared into a lane, and then, breaking
+      his gait again, thundered into the inclosure and pounded to a halt some
+      twenty yards from where Stillwell waited for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One look at him at close range in the clear light of day was enough for
+      Madeline to award him a blue ribbon over all horses, even her
+      prize-winner, White Stockings. The cowboy's great steed was no lithe,
+      slender-bodied mustang. He was a charger, almost tremendous of build, with
+      a black coat faintly mottled in gray, and it shone like polished glass in
+      the sun. Evidently he had been carefully dressed down for this occasion,
+      for there was no dust on him, nor a kink in his beautiful mane, nor a mark
+      on his glossy hide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come hyar, you son-of-a-gun,&rdquo; said Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The horse dropped his head, snorted, and came obediently up. He was
+      neither shy nor wild. He poked a friendly nose at Stillwell, and then
+      looked at Al and the women. Unhooking the stirrups from the pommel,
+      Stillwell let them fall and began to search the saddle for something which
+      he evidently expected to find. Presently from somewhere among the
+      trappings he produced a folded bit of paper, and after scrutinizing it
+      handed it to Al.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Addressed to you; an' I'll bet you two bits I know what's in it,&rdquo; he
+      said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred unfolded the letter, read it, and then looked at Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, you're a pretty good guesser. Gene's made for the border. He sent
+      the horse by somebody, no names mentioned, and wants my sister to have him
+      if she will accept.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any mention of Danny Mains?&rdquo; asked the rancher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thet's bad. Gene'd know about Danny if anybody did. But he's a
+      close-mouthed cuss. So he's sure hittin' for Mexico. Wonder if Danny's
+      goin', too? Wal, there's two of the best cowmen I ever seen gone to hell
+      an' I'm sorry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that he bowed his head and, grumbling to himself, went into the
+      house. Alfred lifted the reins over the head of the horse and, leading him
+      to Madeline, slipped the knot over her arm and placed the letter in her
+      hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty, I'd accept the horse,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Stewart is only a cowboy now,
+      and as tough as any I've known. But he comes of a good family. He was a
+      college man and a gentleman once. He went to the bad out here, like so
+      many fellows go, like I nearly did. Then he had told me about his sister
+      and mother. He cared a good deal for them. I think he has been a source of
+      unhappiness to them. It was mostly when he was reminded of this in some
+      way that he'd get drunk. I have always stuck to him, and I would do so yet
+      if I had the chance. You can see Bill is heartbroken about Danny Mains and
+      Stewart. I think he rather hoped to get good news. There's not much chance
+      of them coming back now, at least not in the case of Stewart. This giving
+      up his horse means he's going to join the rebel forces across the border.
+      What wouldn't I give to see that cowboy break loose on a bunch of
+      Greasers! Oh, damn the luck! I beg your pardon, Majesty. But I'm upset,
+      too. I'm sorry about Stewart. I liked him pretty well before he thrashed
+      that coyote of a sheriff, Pat Hawe, and afterward I guess I liked him
+      more. You read the letter, sister, and accept the horse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In silence Madeline bent her gaze from her brother's face to the letter:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Friend Al,&mdash;I'm sending my horse down to you because I'm going away
+      and haven't the nerve to take him where he'd get hurt or fall into strange
+      hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If you think it's all right, why, give him to your sister with my
+      respects. But if you don't like the idea, Al, or if she won't have him,
+      then he's for you. I'm not forgetting your kindness to me, even if I never
+      showed it. And, Al, my horse has never felt a quirt or a spur, and I'd
+      like to think you'd never hurt him. I'm hoping your sister will take him.
+      She'll be good to him, and she can afford to take care of him. And, while
+      I'm waiting to be plugged by a Greaser bullet, if I happen to have a
+      picture in mind of how she'll look upon my horse, why, man, it's not going
+      to make any difference to you. She needn't ever know it. Between you and
+      me, Al, don't let her or Flo ride alone over Don Carlos's way. If I had
+      time I could tell you something about that slick Greaser. And tell your
+      sister, if there's ever any reason for her to run away from anybody when
+      she's up on that roan, just let her lean over and yell in his ear. She'll
+      find herself riding the wind. So long.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gene Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline thoughtfully folded the letter and murmured, &ldquo;How he must love
+      his horse!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I should say so,&rdquo; replied Alfred. &ldquo;Flo will tell you. She's the
+      only person Gene ever let ride that horse, unless, as Bill thinks, the
+      little Mexican girl, Bonita, rode him out of El Cajon the other night.
+      Well, sister mine, how about it&mdash;will you accept the horse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Assuredly. And very happy indeed am I to get him. Al, you said, I think,
+      that Mr. Stewart named him after me&mdash;saw my nickname in the New York
+      paper?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I will not change his name. But, Al, how shall I ever climb up on
+      him? He's taller than I am. What a giant of a horse! Oh, look at him&mdash;he's
+      nosing my hand. I really believe he understood what I said. Al, did you
+      ever see such a splendid head and such beautiful eyes? They are so large
+      and dark and soft&mdash;and human. Oh, I am a fickle woman, for I am
+      forgetting White Stockings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll gamble he'll make you forget any other horse,&rdquo; said Alfred. &ldquo;You'll
+      have to get on him from the porch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As Madeline was not dressed for the saddle, she did not attempt to mount.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, Majesty&mdash;how strange that sounds!&mdash;we must get
+      acquainted. You have now a new owner, a very severe young woman who will
+      demand loyalty from you and obedience, and some day, after a decent
+      period, she will expect love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline led the horse to and fro, and was delighted with his gentleness.
+      She discovered that he did not need to be led. He came at her call,
+      followed her like a pet dog, rubbed his black muzzle against her.
+      Sometimes, at the turns in their walk, he lifted his head and with ears
+      forward looked up the trail by which he had come, and beyond the
+      foothills. He was looking over the range. Some one was calling to him,
+      perhaps, from beyond the mountains. Madeline liked him the better for that
+      memory, and pitied the wayward cowboy who had parted with his only
+      possession for very love of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That afternoon when Alfred lifted Madeline to the back of the big roan she
+      felt high in the air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'll have a run out to the mesa,&rdquo; said her brother, as he mounted. &ldquo;Keep
+      a tight rein on him and ease up when you want him to go faster. But don't
+      yell in his ear unless you want Florence and me to see you disappear on
+      the horizon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He trotted out of the yard, down by the corrals, to come out on the edge
+      of a gray, open flat that stretched several miles to the slope of a mesa.
+      Florence led, and Madeline saw that she rode like a cowboy. Alfred drew on
+      to her side, leaving Madeline in the rear. Then the leading horses broke
+      into a gallop. They wanted to run, and Madeline felt with a thrill that
+      she would hardly be able to keep Majesty from running, even if she wanted
+      to. He sawed on the tight bridle as the others drew away and broke from
+      pace to gallop. Then Florence put her horse into a run. Alfred turned and
+      called to Madeline to come along.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This will never do. They are running away from us,&rdquo; said Madeline, and
+      she eased up her hold on the bridle. Something happened beneath her just
+      then; she did not know at first exactly what. As much as she had been on
+      horseback she had never ridden at a running gait. In New York it was not
+      decorous or safe. So when Majesty lowered and stretched and changed the
+      stiff, jolting gallop for a wonderful, smooth, gliding run it required
+      Madeline some moments to realize what was happening. It did not take long
+      for her to see the distance diminishing between her and her companions.
+      Still they had gotten a goodly start and were far advanced. She felt the
+      steady, even rush of the wind. It amazed her to find how easily,
+      comfortably she kept to the saddle. The experience was new. The one fault
+      she had heretofore found with riding was the violent shaking-up. In this
+      instance she experienced nothing of that kind, no strain, no necessity to
+      hold on with a desperate awareness of work. She had never felt the wind in
+      her face, the whip of a horse's mane, the buoyant, level spring of a
+      tanning gait. It thrilled her, exhilarated her, fired her blood. Suddenly
+      she found herself alive, throbbing; and, inspired by she knew not what,
+      she loosened the bridle and, leaning far forward, she cried, &ldquo;Oh, you
+      splendid fellow, run!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She heard from under her a sudden quick clattering roar of hoofs, and she
+      swayed back with the wonderfully swift increase in Majesty's speed. The
+      wind stung her face, howled in her ears, tore at her hair. The gray plain
+      swept by on each side, and in front seemed to be waving toward her. In her
+      blurred sight Florence and Alfred appeared to be coming back. But she saw
+      presently, upon nearer view, that Majesty was overhauling the other
+      horses, was going to pass them. Indeed, he did pass them, shooting by so
+      as almost to make them appear standing still. And he ran on, not breaking
+      his gait till he reached the steep side of the mesa, where he slowed down
+      and stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Glorious!&rdquo; exclaimed Madeline. She was all in a blaze, and every muscle
+      and nerve of her body tingled and quivered. Her hands, as she endeavored
+      to put up the loosened strands of hair, trembled and failed of their
+      accustomed dexterity. Then she faced about and waited for her companions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred reached her first, laughing, delighted, yet also a little anxious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Holy smoke! But can't he run? Did he bolt on you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I called in his ear,&rdquo; replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that was it. That's the woman of you, and forbidden fruit. Flo said
+      she'd do it the minute she was on him. Majesty, you can ride. See if Flo
+      doesn't say so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Western girl came up then with her pleasure bright in her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was just great to see you. How your hair burned in the wind! Al, she
+      sure can ride. Oh, I'm so glad! I was a little afraid. And that horse!
+      Isn't he grand? Can't he run?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred led the way up the steep, zigzag trail to the top of the mesa.
+      Madeline saw a beautiful flat surface of short grass, level as a floor.
+      She uttered a little cry of wonder and enthusiasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al, what a place for golf! This would be the finest links in the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I've thought of that myself,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;The only trouble would
+      be&mdash;could anybody stop looking at the scenery long enough to hit a
+      ball? Majesty, look!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then it seemed that Madeline was confronted by a spectacle too sublime
+      and terrible for her gaze. The immensity of this red-ridged, deep-gulfed
+      world descending incalculable distances refused to be grasped, and awed
+      her, shocked her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once, Majesty, when I first came out West, I was down and out&mdash;determined
+      to end it all,&rdquo; said Alfred. &ldquo;And happened to climb up here looking for a
+      lonely place to die. When I saw that I changed my mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was silent. She remained so during the ride around the rim of the
+      mesa and down the steep trail. This time Alfred and Florence failed to
+      tempt her into a race. She had been awe-struck; she had been exalted she
+      had been confounded; and she recovered slowly without divining exactly
+      what had come to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She reached the ranch-house far behind her companions, and at supper-time
+      was unusually thoughtful. Later, when they assembled on the porch to watch
+      the sunset, Stillwell's humorous complainings inspired the inception of an
+      idea which flashed up in her mind swift as lightning. And then by
+      listening sympathetically she encouraged him to recite the troubles of a
+      poor cattleman. They were many and long and interesting, and rather
+      numbing to the life of her inspired idea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Stillwell, could ranching here on a large scale, with up-to-date
+      methods, be made&mdash;well, not profitable, exactly, but to pay&mdash;to
+      run without loss?&rdquo; she asked, determined to kill her new-born idea at
+      birth or else give it breath and hope of life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I reckon it could,&rdquo; he replied, with a short laugh. &ldquo;It'd sure be a
+      money-maker. Why, with all my bad luck an' poor equipment I've lived
+      pretty well an' paid my debts an' haven't really lost any money except the
+      original outlay. I reckon thet's sunk fer good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you sell&mdash;if some one would pay your price?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, I'd jump at the chance. Yet somehow I'd hate to leave hyar.
+      I'd jest be fool enough to go sink the money in another ranch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would Don Carlos and these other Mexicans sell?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They sure would. The Don has been after me fer years, wantin' to sell
+      thet old rancho of his; an' these herders in the valley with their stray
+      cattle, they'd fall daid at sight of a little money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please tell me, Mr. Stillwell, exactly what you would do here if you had
+      unlimited means?&rdquo; went on Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Lud!&rdquo; ejaculated the rancher, and started so he dropped his pipe.
+      Then with his clumsy huge fingers he refilled it, relighted it, took a few
+      long pulls, puffed great clouds of smoke, and, squaring round, hands on
+      his knees, he looked at Madeline with piercing intentness. His hard face
+      began to relax and soften and wrinkle into a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Miss Majesty, it jest makes my old heart warm up to think of sich a
+      thing. I dreamed a lot when I first come hyar. What would I do if I hed
+      unlimited money? Listen. I'd buy out Don Carlos an' the Greasers. I'd give
+      a job to every good cowman in this country. I'd make them prosper as I
+      prospered myself. I'd buy all the good horses on the ranges. I'd fence
+      twenty thousand acres of the best grazin'. I'd drill fer water in the
+      valley. I'd pipe water down from the mountains. I'd dam up that draw out
+      there. A mile-long dam from hill to hill would give me a big lake, an'
+      hevin' an eye fer beauty, I'd plant cottonwoods around it. I'd fill that
+      lake full of fish. I'd put in the biggest field of alfalfa in the
+      South-west. I'd plant fruit-trees an' garden. I'd tear down them old
+      corrals an' barns an' bunk-houses to build new ones. I'd make this old
+      rancho some comfortable an' fine. I'd put in grass an' flowers all around
+      an' bring young pine-trees down from the mountains. An' when all thet was
+      done I'd sit in my chair an' smoke an' watch the cattle stringin' in fer
+      water an' stragglin' back into the valley. An' I see the cowboys ridin'
+      easy an' heah them singin' in their bunks. An' thet red sun out there
+      wouldn't set on a happier man in the world than Bill Stillwell, last of
+      the old cattlemen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline thanked the rancher, and then rather abruptly retired to her
+      room, where she felt no restraint to hide the force of that wonderful
+      idea, now full-grown and tenacious and alluring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the next day, late in the afternoon, she asked Alfred if it would be
+      safe for her to ride out to the mesa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll go with you,&rdquo; he said, gaily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear fellow, I want to go alone,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; Alfred exclaimed, suddenly serious. He gave her just a quick glance,
+      then turned away. &ldquo;Go ahead. I think it's safe. I'll make it safe by
+      sitting here with my glass and keeping an eye on you. Be careful coming
+      down the trail. Let the horse pick his way. That's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She rode Majesty across the wide flat, up the zigzag trail, across the
+      beautiful grassy level to the far rim of the mesa, and not till then did
+      she lift her eyes to face the southwest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline looked from the gray valley at her feet to the blue Sierra
+      Madres, gold-tipped in the setting sun. Her vision embraced in that glance
+      distance and depth and glory hitherto unrevealed to her. The gray valley
+      sloped and widened to the black sentinel Chiricahuas, and beyond was lost
+      in a vast corrugated sweep of earth, reddening down to the west, where a
+      golden blaze lifted the dark, rugged mountains into bold relief. The scene
+      had infinite beauty. But after Madeline's first swift, all-embracing flash
+      of enraptured eyes, thought of beauty passed away. In that darkening
+      desert there was something illimitable. Madeline saw the hollow of a
+      stupendous hand; she felt a mighty hold upon her heart. Out of the endless
+      space, out of silence and desolation and mystery and age, came
+      slow-changing colored shadows, phantoms of peace, and they whispered to
+      Madeline. They whispered that it was a great, grim, immutable earth; that
+      time was eternity; that life was fleeting. They whispered for her to be a
+      woman; to love some one before it was too late; to love any one, every
+      one; to realize the need of work, and in doing it to find happiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She rode back across the mesa and down the trail, and, once more upon the
+      flat, she called to the horse and made him run. His spirit seemed to race
+      with hers. The wind of his speed blew her hair from its fastenings. When
+      he thundered to a halt at the porch steps Madeline, breathless and
+      disheveled, alighted with the mass of her hair tumbling around her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred met her, and his exclamation, and Florence's rapt eyes shining on
+      her face, and Stillwell's speechlessness made her self-conscious.
+      Laughing, she tried to put up the mass of hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must&mdash;look a&mdash;fright,&rdquo; she panted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, you can say what you like,&rdquo; replied the old cattleman, &ldquo;but I know
+      what I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline strove to attain calmness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My hat&mdash;and my combs&mdash;went on the wind. I thought my hair would
+      go, too.... There is the evening star.... I think I am very hungry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then she gave up trying to be calm, and likewise to fasten up her
+      hair, which fell again in a golden mass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Stillwell,&rdquo; she began, and paused, strangely aware of a hurried note,
+      a deeper ring in her voice. &ldquo;Mr. Stillwell, I want to buy your ranch&mdash;to
+      engage you as my superintendent. I want to buy Don Carlos's ranch and
+      other property to the extent, say, of fifty thousand acres. I want you to
+      buy horses and cattle&mdash;in short, to make all those improvements which
+      you said you had so long dreamed of. Then I have ideas of my own, in the
+      development of which I must have your advice and Alfred's. I intend to
+      better the condition of those poor Mexicans in the valley. I intend to
+      make life a little more worth living for them and for the cowboys of this
+      range. To-morrow we shall talk it all over, plan all the business
+      details.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline turned from the huge, ever-widening smile that beamed down upon
+      her and held out her hands to her brother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alfred, strange, is it not, my coming out to you? Nay, don't smile. I
+      hope I have found myself&mdash;my work&mdash;my happiness&mdash;here under
+      the light of that western star.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VII. Her Majesty's Rancho
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      FIVE months brought all that Stillwell had dreamed of, and so many more
+      changes and improvements and innovations that it was as if a magic touch
+      had transformed the old ranch. Madeline and Alfred and Florence had talked
+      over a fitting name, and had decided on one chosen by Madeline. But this
+      instance was the only one in the course of developments in which
+      Madeline's wishes were not compiled with. The cowboys named the new ranch
+      &ldquo;Her Majesty's Rancho.&rdquo; Stillwell said the names cowboys bestowed were
+      felicitous, and as unchangeable as the everlasting hills; Florence went
+      over to the enemy; and Alfred, laughing at Madeline's protest, declared
+      the cowboys had elected her queen of the ranges, and that there was no
+      help for it. So the name stood &ldquo;Her Majesty's Rancho.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The April sun shone down upon a slow-rising green knoll that nestled in
+      the lee of the foothills, and seemed to center bright rays upon the long
+      ranch-house, which gleamed snow-white from the level summit. The grounds
+      around the house bore no semblance to Eastern lawns or parks; there had
+      been no landscape-gardening; Stillwell had just brought water and grass
+      and flowers and plants to the knoll-top, and there had left them, as it
+      were, to follow nature. His idea may have been crude, but the result was
+      beautiful. Under that hot sun and balmy air, with cool water daily soaking
+      into the rich soil, a green covering sprang into life, and everywhere upon
+      it, as if by magic, many colored flowers rose in the sweet air. Pale wild
+      flowers, lavender daisies, fragile bluebells, white four-petaled lilies
+      like Eastern mayflowers, and golden poppies, deep sunset gold, color of
+      the West, bloomed in happy confusion. California roses, crimson as blood,
+      nodded heavy heads and trembled with the weight of bees. Low down in bare
+      places, isolated, open to the full power of the sun, blazed the vermilion
+      and magenta blossoms of cactus plants.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Green slopes led all the way down to where new adobe barns and sheds had
+      been erected, and wide corrals stretched high-barred fences down to the
+      great squares of alfalfa gently inclining to the gray of the valley. The
+      bottom of a dammed-up hollow shone brightly with its slowly increasing
+      acreage of water, upon which thousands of migratory wildfowl whirred and
+      splashed and squawked, as if reluctant to leave this cool, wet surprise so
+      new in the long desert journey to the northland. Quarters for the cowboys&mdash;comfortable,
+      roomy adobe houses that not even the lamest cowboy dared describe as
+      crampy bunks&mdash;stood in a row upon a long bench of ground above the
+      lake. And down to the edge of the valley the cluster of Mexican
+      habitations and the little church showed the touch of the same renewing
+      hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All that had been left of the old Spanish house which had been Stillwell's
+      home for so long was the bare, massive structure, and some of this had
+      been cut away for new doors and windows. Every modern convenience, even to
+      hot and cold running water and acetylene light, had been installed; and
+      the whole interior painted and carpentered and furnished. The ideal sought
+      had not been luxury, but comfort. Every door into the patio looked out
+      upon dark, rich grass and sweet-faced flowers, and every window looked
+      down the green slopes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's rooms occupied the west end of the building and comprised four
+      in number, all opening out upon the long porch. There was a small room for
+      her maid, another which she used as an office, then her
+      sleeping-apartment; and, lastly, the great light chamber which she had
+      liked so well upon first sight, and which now, simply yet beautifully
+      furnished and containing her favorite books and pictures, she had come to
+      love as she had never loved any room at home. In the morning the fragrant,
+      balmy air blew the white curtains of the open windows; at noon the drowsy,
+      sultry quiet seemed to creep in for the siesta that was characteristic of
+      the country; in the afternoon the westering sun peeped under the porch
+      roof and painted the walls with gold bars that slowly changed to red.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline Hammond cherished a fancy that the transformation she had wrought
+      in the old Spanish house and in the people with whom she had surrounded
+      herself, great as that transformation had been, was as nothing compared to
+      the one wrought in herself. She had found an object in life. She was busy,
+      she worked with her hands as well as mind, yet she seemed to have more
+      time to read and think and study and idle and dream than ever before. She
+      had seen her brother through his difficulties, on the road to all the
+      success and prosperity that he cared for. Madeline had been a
+      conscientious student of ranching and an apt pupil of Stillwell. The old
+      cattleman, in his simplicity, gave her the place in his heart that was
+      meant for the daughter he had never had. His pride in her, Madeline
+      thought, was beyond reason or belief or words to tell. Under his guidance,
+      sometimes accompanied by Alfred and Florence, Madeline had ridden the
+      ranges and had studied the life and work of the cowboys. She had camped on
+      the open range, slept under the blinking stars, ridden forty miles a day
+      in the face of dust and wind. She had taken two wonderful trips down into
+      the desert&mdash;one trip to Chiricahua, and from there across the waste
+      of sand and rock and alkali and cactus to the Mexican borderline; and the
+      other through the Aravaipa Valley, with its deep, red-walled canyons and
+      wild fastnesses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This breaking-in, this training into Western ways, though she had been a
+      so-called outdoor girl, had required great effort and severe pain; but the
+      education, now past its grades, had become a labor of love. She had
+      perfect health, abounding spirits. She was so active hat she had to train
+      herself into taking the midday siesta, a custom of the country and
+      imperative during the hot summer months. Sometimes she looked in her
+      mirror and laughed with sheer joy at sight of the lithe, audacious,
+      brown-faced, flashing-eyed creature reflected there. It was not so much
+      joy in her beauty as sheer joy of life. Eastern critics had been wont to
+      call her beautiful in those days when she had been pale and slender and
+      proud and cold. She laughed. If they could only see her now! From the tip
+      of her golden head to her feet she was alive, pulsating, on fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sometimes she thought of her parents, sister, friends, of how they had
+      persistently refused to believe she could or would stay in the West. They
+      were always asking her to come home. And when she wrote, which was
+      dutifully often, the last thing under the sun that she was likely to
+      mention was the change in her. She wrote that she would return to her old
+      home some time, of course, for a visit; and letters such as this brought
+      returns that amused Madeline, sometimes saddened her. She meant to go back
+      East for a while, and after that once or twice every year. But the
+      initiative was a difficult step from which she shrank. Once home, she
+      would have to make explanations, and these would not be understood. Her
+      father's business had been such that he could not leave it for the time
+      required for a Western trip, or else, according to his letter, he would
+      have come for her. Mrs. Hammond could not have been driven to cross the
+      Hudson River; her un-American idea of the wilderness westward was that
+      Indians still chased buffalo on the outskirts of Chicago. Madeline's
+      sister Helen had long been eager to come, as much from curiosity, Madeline
+      thought, as from sisterly regard. And at length Madeline concluded that
+      the proof of her breaking permanent ties might better be seen by visiting
+      relatives and friends before she went back East. With that in mind she
+      invited Helen to visit her during the summer, and bring as many friends as
+      she liked.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    *       *       *
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      No slight task indeed was it to oversee the many business details of Her
+      Majesty's Rancho and to keep a record of them. Madeline found the course
+      of business training upon which her father had insisted to be invaluable
+      to her now. It helped her to assimilate and arrange the practical details
+      of cattle-raising as put forth by the blunt Stillwell. She split up the
+      great stock of cattle into different herds, and when any of these were out
+      running upon the open range she had them closely watched. Part of the time
+      each herd was kept in an inclosed range, fed and watered, and carefully
+      handled by a big force of cowboys. She employed three cowboy scouts whose
+      sole duty was to ride the ranges searching for stray, sick, or crippled
+      cattle or motherless calves, and to bring these in to be treated and
+      nursed. There were two cowboys whose business was to master a pack of
+      Russian stag-hounds and to hunt down the coyotes, wolves, and lions that
+      preyed upon the herds. The better and tamer milch cows were separated from
+      the ranging herds and kept in a pasture adjoining the dairy. All branding
+      was done in corrals, and calves were weaned from mother-cows at the proper
+      time to benefit both. The old method of branding and classing, that had so
+      shocked Madeline, had been abandoned, and one had been inaugurated whereby
+      cattle and cowboys and horses were spared brutality and injury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline established an extensive vegetable farm, and she planted
+      orchards. The climate was superior to that of California, and, with
+      abundant water, trees and plants and gardens flourished and bloomed in a
+      way wonderful to behold. It was with ever-increasing pleasure that
+      Madeline walked through acres of ground once bare, now green and bright
+      and fragrant. There were poultry-yards and pig-pens and marshy quarters
+      for ducks and geese. Here in the farming section of the ranch Madeline
+      found employment for the little colony of Mexicans. Their lives had been
+      as hard and barren as the dry valley where they had lived. But as the
+      valley had been transformed by the soft, rich touch of water, so their
+      lives had been transformed by help and sympathy and work. The children
+      were wretched no more, and many that had been blind could now see, and
+      Madeline had become to them a new and blessed virgin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline looked abroad over these lands and likened the change in them and
+      those who lived by them to the change in her heart. It may have been
+      fancy, but the sun seemed to be brighter, the sky bluer, the wind sweeter.
+      Certain it was that the deep green of grass and garden was not fancy, nor
+      the white and pink of blossom, nor the blaze and perfume of flower, nor
+      the sheen of lake and the fluttering of new-born leaves. Where there had
+      been monotonous gray there was now vivid and changing color. Formerly
+      there had been silence both day and night; now during the sunny hours
+      there was music. The whistle of prancing stallions pealed in from the
+      grassy ridges. Innumerable birds had come and, like the
+      northward-journeying ducks, they had tarried to stay. The song of
+      meadow-lark and blackbird and robin, familiar to Madeline from childhood,
+      mingled with the new and strange heart-throbbing song of mocking-bird and
+      the piercing blast of the desert eagle and the melancholy moan of
+      turtle-dove.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      One April morning Madeline sat in her office wrestling with a problem. She
+      had problems to solve every day. The majority of these were concerned with
+      the management of twenty-seven incomprehensible cowboys. This particular
+      problem involved Ambrose Mills, who had eloped with her French maid,
+      Christine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell faced Madeline with a smile almost as huge as his bulk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Miss Majesty, we ketched them; but not before Padre Marcos had
+      married them. All thet speedin' in the autoomoobile was jest a-scarin' of
+      me to death fer nothin'. I tell you Link Stevens is crazy about runnin'
+      thet car. Link never hed no sense even with a hoss. He ain't afraid of the
+      devil hisself. If my hair hedn't been white it 'd be white now. No more
+      rides in thet thing fer me! Wal, we ketched Ambrose an' the girl too late.
+      But we fetched them back, an' they're out there now, spoonin', sure
+      oblivious to their shameless conduct.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stillwell, what shall I say to Ambrose? How shall I punish him? He has
+      done wrong to deceive me. I never was so surprised in my life. Christine
+      did not seem to care any more for Ambrose than for any of the other
+      cowboys. What does my authority amount to? I must do something. Stillwell,
+      you must help me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whenever Madeline fell into a quandary she had to call upon the old
+      cattleman. No man ever held a position with greater pride than Stillwell,
+      but he had been put to tests that steeped him in humility. Here he
+      scratched his head in great perplexity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dog-gone the luck! What's this elopin' bizness to do with cattle-raisin'?
+      I don't know nothin' but cattle. Miss Majesty, it's amazin' strange what
+      these cowboys hev come to. I never seen no cowboys like these we've got
+      hyar now. I don't know them any more. They dress swell an' read books, an'
+      some of them hev actooly stopped cussin' an' drinkin'. I ain't sayin' all
+      this is against them. Why, now, they're jest the finest bunch of
+      cow-punchers I ever seen or dreamed of. But managin' them now is beyond
+      me. When cowboys begin to play thet game gol-lof an' run off with French
+      maids I reckon Bill Stillwell has got to resign.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stillwell! Oh, you will not leave me? What in the world would I do?&rdquo;
+       exclaimed Madeline, in great anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I sure won't leave you, Miss Majesty. No, I never'll do thet. I'll
+      run the cattle bizness fer you an' see after the hosses an' other stock.
+      But I've got to hev a foreman who can handle this amazin' strange bunch of
+      cowboys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've tried half a dozen foremen. Try more until you find the man who
+      meets your requirements,&rdquo; said Madeline. &ldquo;Never mind that now. Tell me how
+      to impress Ambrose&mdash;to make him an example, so to speak. I must have
+      another maid. And I do not want a new one carried off in this summary
+      manner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, if you fetch pretty maids out hyar you can't expect nothin' else.
+      Why, thet black-eyed little French girl, with her white skin an' pretty
+      airs an' smiles an' shrugs, she had the cowboys crazy. It'll be wuss with
+      the next one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh dear!&rdquo; sighed Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' as fer impressin' Ambrose, I reckon I can tell you how to do thet.
+      Jest give it to him good an' say you're goin' to fire him. That'll fix
+      Ambrose, an' mebbe scare the other boys fer a spell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, Stillwell, bring Ambrose in to see me, and tell Christine to
+      wait in my room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a handsome debonair, bright-eyed cowboy that came tramping into
+      Madeline's presence. His accustomed shyness and awkwardness had
+      disappeared in an excited manner. He was a happy boy. He looked straight
+      into Madeline's face as if he expected her to wish him joy. And Madeline
+      actually found that expression trembling to her lips. She held it back
+      until she could be severe. But Madeline feared she would fail of much
+      severity. Something warm and sweet, like a fragrance, had entered the room
+      with Ambrose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ambrose, what have you done?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, I've been and gone and got married,&rdquo; replied Ambrose, his
+      words tumbling over one another. His eyes snapped, and there was a kind of
+      glow upon his clean-shaven brown cheek. &ldquo;I've stole a march on the other
+      boys. There was Frank Slade pushin' me close, and I was havin' some
+      runnin' to keep Jim Bell back in my dust. Even old man Nels made eyes at
+      Christine! So I wasn't goin' to take any chances. I just packed her off to
+      El Cajon and married her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, so I heard,&rdquo; said Madeline, slowly, as she watched him. &ldquo;Ambrose, do
+      you&mdash;love her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He reddened under her clear gaze, dropped his head, and fumbled with his
+      new sombrero, and there was a catch in his breath. Madeline saw his
+      powerful brown hand tremble. It affected her strangely that this stalwart
+      cowboy, who could rope and throw and tie a wild steer in less than one
+      minute, should tremble at a mere question. Suddenly he raised his head,
+      and at the beautiful blase of his eyes Madeline turned her own away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Miss Hammond, I love her,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I think I love her in the way
+      you're askin' about. I know the first time I saw her I thought how
+      wonderful it'd be to have a girl like that for my wife. It's all been so
+      strange&mdash;her comin' an' how she made me feel. Sure I never knew many
+      girls, and I haven't seen any girls at all for years. But when she came! A
+      girl makes a wonderful difference in a man's feelin's and thoughts. I
+      guess I never had any before. Leastways, none like I have now. My&mdash;it&mdash;well,
+      I guess I have a little understandin' now of Padre Marcos's blessin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ambrose, have you nothing to say to me?&rdquo; asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sure sorry I didn't have time to tell you. But I was in some hurry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you intend to do? Where were you going when Stillwell found
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'd just been married. I hadn't thought of anything after that. Suppose
+      I'd have rustled back to my job. I'll sure have to work now and save my
+      money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, well, Ambrose, I am glad you realize your responsibilities. Do you
+      earn enough&mdash;is your pay sufficient to keep a wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure it is! Why, Miss Hammond, I never before earned half the salary I'm
+      gettin' now. It's some fine to work for you. I'm goin' to fire the boys
+      out of my bunk-house and fix it up for Christine and me. Say, won't they
+      be jealous?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ambrose, I&mdash;I congratulate you. I wish you joy,&rdquo; said Madeline. &ldquo;I&mdash;I
+      shall make Christine a little wedding-present. I want to talk to her for a
+      few moments. You may go now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It would have been impossible for Madeline to say one severe word to that
+      happy cowboy. She experienced difficulty in hiding her own happiness at
+      the turn of events. Curiosity and interest mingled with her pleasure when
+      she called to Christine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Ambrose Mills, please come in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No sound came from the other room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like very much to see the bride,&rdquo; went on Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still there was no stir or reply
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christine!&rdquo; called Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then it was as if a little whirlwind of flying feet and entreating hands
+      and beseeching eyes blew in upon Madeline. Christine was small, graceful,
+      plump, with very white skin and very dark hair. She had been Madeline's
+      favorite maid for years and there was sincere affection between the two.
+      Whatever had been the blissful ignorance of Ambrose, it was manifestly
+      certain that Christine knew how she had transgressed. Her fear and remorse
+      and appeal for forgiveness were poured out in an incoherent storm. Plain
+      it was that the little French maid had been overwhelmed. It was only after
+      Madeline had taken the emotional girl in her arms and had forgiven and
+      soothed her that her part in the elopement became clear. Christine was in
+      a maze. But gradually, as she talked and saw that she was forgiven,
+      calmness came in some degree, and with it a story which amused yet shocked
+      Madeline. The unmistakable, shy, marveling love, scarcely realized by
+      Christine, gave Madeline relief and joy. If Christine loved Ambrose there
+      was no harm done. Watching the girl's eyes, wonderful with their changes
+      of thought, listening to her attempts to explain what it was evident she
+      did not understand, Madeline gathered that if ever a caveman had taken
+      unto himself a wife, if ever a barbarian had carried off a Sabine woman,
+      then Ambrose Mills had acted with the violence of such ancient forebears.
+      Just how it all happened seemed to be beyond Christine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He say he love me,&rdquo; repeated the girl, in a kind of rapt awe. &ldquo;He ask me
+      to marry him&mdash;he kees me&mdash;he hug me&mdash;he lift me on ze horse&mdash;he
+      ride with me all night&mdash;he marry me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And she exhibited a ring on the third finger of her left hand. Madeline
+      saw that, whatever had been the state of Christine's feeling for Ambrose
+      before this marriage, she loved him now. She had been taken forcibly, but
+      she was won.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After Christine had gone, comforted and betraying her shy eagerness to get
+      back to Ambrose, Madeline was haunted by the look in the girl's eyes, and
+      her words. Assuredly the spell of romance was on this sunny land. For
+      Madeline there was a nameless charm, a nameless thrill combating her sense
+      of the violence and unfitness of Ambrose's wooing. Something, she knew not
+      what, took arms against her intellectual arraignment of the cowboy's
+      method of getting himself a wife. He had said straight out that he loved
+      the girl&mdash;he had asked her to marry him&mdash;he kissed her&mdash;he
+      hugged her&mdash;he lifted her upon his horse&mdash;he rode away with her
+      through the night&mdash;and he married her. In whatever light Madeline
+      reviewed this thing she always came back to her first natural impression;
+      it thrilled her, charmed her. It went against all the precepts of her
+      training; nevertheless, it was somehow splendid and beautiful. She
+      imagined it stripped another artificial scale from her over-sophisticated
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Scarcely had she settled again to the task on her desk when Stillwell's
+      heavy tread across the porch interrupted her. This time when he entered he
+      wore a look that bordered upon the hysterical; it was difficult to tell
+      whether he was trying to suppress grief or glee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, there's another amazin' strange thing sprung on me. Hyars
+      Jim Bell come to see you, an', when I taxed him, sayin' you was tolerable
+      busy, he up an' says he was hungry an' he ain't a-goin' to eat any more
+      bread made in a wash-basin! Says he'll starve first. Says Nels hed the
+      gang over to big bunk an' feasted them on bread you taught him how to make
+      in some new-fangled bucket-machine with a crank. Jim says thet bread beat
+      any cake he ever eat, an' he wants you to show him how to make some. Now,
+      Miss Majesty, as superintendent of this ranch I ought to know what's goin'
+      on. Mebbe Jim is jest a-joshin' me. Mebbe he's gone clean dotty. Mebbe I
+      hev. An' beggin' your pardon, I want to know if there's any truth in what
+      Jim says Nels says.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whereupon it became necessary for Madeline to stifle her mirth and to
+      inform the sadly perplexed old cattleman that she had received from the
+      East a patent bread-mixer, and in view of the fact that her household
+      women had taken fright at the contrivance, she had essayed to operate it
+      herself. This had turned out to be so simple, so saving of time and energy
+      and flour, so much more cleanly than the old method of mixing dough with
+      the hands, and particularly it had resulted in such good bread, that
+      Madeline had been pleased. Immediately she ordered more of the
+      bread-mixers. One day she had happened upon Nels making biscuit dough in
+      his wash-basin, and she had delicately and considerately introduced to him
+      the idea of her new method. Nels, it appeared, had a great reputation as a
+      bread-maker, and he was proud of it. Moreover, he was skeptical of any
+      clap-trap thing with wheels and cranks. He consented, however, to let her
+      show how the thing worked and to sample some of the bread. To that end she
+      had him come up to the house, where she won him over. Stillwell laughed
+      loud and long.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, wal, wal!&rdquo; he exclaimed, at length. &ldquo;Thet's fine, an' it's powerful
+      funny. Mebbe you don't see how funny? Wal, Nels has jest been lordin' it
+      over the boys about how you showed him, an' now you'll hev to show every
+      last cowboy on the place the same thing. Cowboys are the jealousest kind
+      of fellers. They're all crazy about you, anyway. Take Jim out hyar. Why,
+      thet lazy cowpuncher jest never would make bread. He's notorious fer
+      shirkin' his share of the grub deal. I've knowed Jim to trade off washin'
+      the pots an' pans fer a lonely watch on a rainy night. All he wants is to
+      see you show him the same as Nels is crowin' over. Then he'll crow over
+      his bunkie, Frank Slade, an' then Frank'll get lonely to know all about
+      this wonderful bread-machine. Cowboys are amazin' strange critters, Miss
+      Majesty. An' now thet you've begun with them this way, you'll hev to keep
+      it up. I will say I never seen such a bunch to work. You've sure put heart
+      in them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, Stillwell, I am glad to hear that,&rdquo; replied Madeline. &ldquo;And I
+      shall be pleased to teach them all. But may I not have them all up here at
+      once&mdash;at least those off duty?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I reckon you can't onless you want to hev them scrappin',&rdquo; rejoined
+      Stillwell, dryly. &ldquo;What you've got on your hands now, Miss Majesty, is to
+      let 'em come one by one, an' make each cowboy think you're takin' more
+      especial pleasure in showin' him than the feller who came before him. Then
+      mebbe we can go on with cattle-raisin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline protested, and Stillwell held inexorably to what he said was
+      wisdom. Several times Madeline had gone against his advice, to her utter
+      discomfiture and rout. She dared not risk it again, and resigned herself
+      gracefully and with subdued merriment to her task. Jim Bell was ushered
+      into the great, light, spotless kitchen, where presently Madeline appeared
+      to put on an apron and roll up her sleeves. She explained the use of the
+      several pieces of aluminum that made up the bread-mixer and fastened the
+      bucket to the table-shelf. Jim's life might have depended upon this
+      lesson, judging from his absorbed manner and his desire to have things
+      explained over and over, especially the turning of the crank. When
+      Madeline had to take Jim's hand three times to show him the simple
+      mechanism and then he did not understand she began to have faint
+      misgivings as to his absolute sincerity. She guessed that as long as she
+      touched Jim's hand he never would understand. Then as she began to measure
+      out flour and milk and lard and salt and yeast she saw with despair that
+      Jim was not looking at the ingredients, was not paying the slightest
+      attention to them. His eyes were covertly upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jim, I am not sure about you,&rdquo; said Madeline, severely. &ldquo;How can you
+      learn to make bread if you do not watch me mix it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am a-watchin' you,&rdquo; replied Jim, innocently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Finally Madeline sent the cowboy on his way rejoicing with the bread-mixer
+      under his arm. Next morning, true to Stillwell's prophecy, Frank Slade,
+      Jim's bunkmate, presented himself cheerfully to Madeline and unbosomed
+      himself of a long-deferred and persistent desire to relieve his overworked
+      comrade of some of the house-keeping in their bunk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond,&rdquo; said Frank, &ldquo;Jim's orful kind wantin' to do it all
+      hisself. But he ain't very bright, an' I didn't believe him. You see, I'm
+      from Missouri, an' you'll have to show me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a whole week Madeline held clinics where she expounded the scientific
+      method of modern bread-making. She got a good deal of enjoyment out of her
+      lectures. What boys these great hulking fellows were! She saw through
+      their simple ruses. Some of them were grave as deacons; others wore
+      expressions important enough to have fitted the faces of statesmen signing
+      government treaties. These cowboys were children; they needed to be
+      governed; but in order to govern them they had to be humored. A more
+      light-hearted, fun-loving crowd of boys could not have been found. And
+      they were grown men. Stillwell explained that the exuberance of spirits
+      lay in the difference in their fortunes. Twenty-seven cowboys, in relays
+      of nine, worked eight hours a day. That had never been heard of before in
+      the West. Stillwell declared that cowboys from all points of the compass
+      would head their horses toward Her Majesty's Rancho.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VIII. El Capitan
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell's interest in the revolution across the Mexican line had
+      manifestly increased with the news that Gene Stewart had achieved
+      distinction with the rebel forces. Thereafter the old cattleman sent for
+      El Paso and Douglas newspapers, wrote to ranchmen he knew on the big bend
+      of the Rio Grande, and he would talk indefinitely to any one who would
+      listen to him. There was not any possibility of Stillwell's friends at the
+      ranch forgetting his favorite cowboy. Stillwell always prefaced his eulogy
+      with an apologetic statement that Stewart had gone to the bad. Madeline
+      liked to listen to him, though she was not always sure which news was
+      authentic and which imagination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There appeared to be no doubt, however, that the cowboy had performed some
+      daring feats for the rebels. Madeline found his name mentioned in several
+      of the border papers. When the rebels under Madero stormed and captured
+      the city of Juarez, Stewart did fighting that won him the name of El
+      Capitan. This battle apparently ended the revolution. The capitulation of
+      President Diaz followed shortly, and there was a feeling of relief among
+      ranchers on the border from Texas to California. Nothing more was heard of
+      Gene Stewart until April, when a report reached Stillwell that the cowboy
+      had arrived in El Cajon, evidently hunting trouble. The old cattleman
+      saddled a horse and started post-haste for town. In two days he returned,
+      depressed in spirit. Madeline happened to be present when Stillwell talked
+      to Alfred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I got there too late, Al,&rdquo; said the cattleman. &ldquo;Gene was gone. An' what
+      do you think of this? Danny Mains hed jest left with a couple of burros
+      packed. I couldn't find what way he went, but I'm bettin' he hit the
+      Peloncillo trail.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Danny will show up some day,&rdquo; replied Alfred. &ldquo;What did you learn about
+      Stewart? Maybe he left with Danny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not much,&rdquo; said Stillwell, shortly. &ldquo;Gene's hell-bent fer election! No
+      mountains fer him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well tell us about him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell wiped his sweaty brow and squared himself to talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, it's sure amazin' strange about Gene. Its got me locoed. He arrived
+      in El Cajon a week or so ago. He was trained down like as if he'd been
+      ridin' the range all winter. He hed plenty of money&mdash;Mex, they said.
+      An' all the Greasers was crazy about him. Called him El Capitan. He got
+      drunk an' went roarin' round fer Pat Hawe. You remember that Greaser who
+      was plugged last October&mdash;the night Miss Majesty arrived? Wal, he's
+      daid. He's daid, an' people says thet Pat is a-goin' to lay thet killin'
+      onto Gene. I reckon thet's jest talk, though Pat is mean enough to do it,
+      if he hed the nerve. Anyway, if he was in El Cajon he kept mighty much to
+      hisself. Gene walked up an' down, up an' down, all day an' night, lookin'
+      fer Pat. But he didn't find him. An', of course, he kept gettin' drunker.
+      He jest got plumb bad. He made lots of trouble, but there wasn't no
+      gun-play. Mebbe thet made him sore, so he went an' licked Flo's
+      brother-in-law. Thet wasn't so bad. Jack sure needed a good lickin'. Wal,
+      then Gene met Danny an' tried to get Danny drunk. An' he couldn't! What do
+      you think of that? Danny hedn't been drinkin'&mdash;wouldn't touch a drop.
+      I'm sure glad of thet, but it's amazin' strange. Why, Danny was a fish fer
+      red liquor. I guess he an' Gene had some pretty hard words, though I'm not
+      sure about thet. Anyway, Gene went down to the railroad an' he got on an
+      engine, an' he was in the engine when it pulled out. Lord, I hope he
+      doesn't hold up the train! If he gets gay over in Arizona he'll go to the
+      pen at Yuma. An' thet pen is a graveyard fer cowboys. I wired to agents
+      along the railroad to look out fer Stewart, an' to wire back to me if he's
+      located.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suppose you do find him, Stillwell, what can you do?&rdquo; inquired Alfred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man nodded gloomily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I straightened him up once. Mebbe I can do it again.&rdquo; Then, brightening
+      somewhat, he turned to Madeline. &ldquo;I jest hed an idee, Miss Majesty. If I
+      can get him, Gene Stewart is the cowboy I want fer my foreman. He can
+      manage this bunch of cow-punchers thet are drivin' me dotty. What's more,
+      since he's fought fer the rebels an' got that name El Capitan, all the
+      Greasers in the country will kneel to him. Now, Miss Majesty, we hevn't
+      got rid of Don Carlos an' his vaqueros yet. To be sure, he sold you his
+      house an' ranch an' stock. But you remember nothin' was put in black and
+      white about when he should get out. An' Don Carlos ain't gettin' out. I
+      don't like the looks of things a little bit. I'll tell you now thet Don
+      Carlos knows somethin' about the cattle I lost, an' thet you've been
+      losin' right along. Thet Greaser is hand an' glove with the rebels. I'm
+      willin' to gamble thet when he does get out he an' his vaqueros will make
+      another one of the bands of guerrillas thet are harassin' the border. This
+      revolution ain't over' yet. It's jest commenced. An' all these gangs of
+      outlaws are goin' to take advantage of it. We'll see some old times,
+      mebbe. Wal, I need Gene Stewart. I need him bad. Will you let me hire him,
+      Miss Majesty, if I can get him straightened up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old cattleman ended huskily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stillwell, by all means find Stewart, and do not wait to straighten him
+      up. Bring him to the ranch,&rdquo; replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thanking her, Stillwell led his horse away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Strange how he loves that cowboy!&rdquo; murmured Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so strange, Majesty,&rdquo; replied her brother. &ldquo;Not when you know.
+      Stewart has been with Stillwell on some hard trips into the desert alone.
+      There's no middle course of feeling between men facing death in the
+      desert. Either they hate each other or love each other. I don't know, but
+      I imagine Stewart did something for Stillwell&mdash;saved us life,
+      perhaps. Besides, Stewart's a lovable chap when he's going straight. I
+      hope Stillwell brings him back. We do need him, Majesty. He's a born
+      leader. Once I saw him ride into a bunch of Mexicans whom we suspected of
+      rustling. It was fine to see him. Well, I'm sorry to tell you that we are
+      worried about Don Carlos. Some of his vaqueros came into my yard the other
+      day when I had left Flo alone. She had a bad scare. These vaqueros have
+      been different since Don Carlos sold the ranch. For that matter, I never
+      would have trusted a white woman alone with them. But they are bolder now.
+      Something's in the wind. They've got assurance. They can ride off any
+      night and cross the border.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      During the succeeding week Madeline discovered that a good deal of her
+      sympathy for Stillwell in his hunt for the reckless Stewart had insensibly
+      grown to be sympathy for the cowboy. It was rather a paradox, she thought,
+      that opposed to the continual reports of Stewart's wildness as he caroused
+      from town to town were the continual expressions of good will and faith
+      and hope universally given out by those near her at the ranch. Stillwell
+      loved the cowboy; Florence was fond of him; Alfred liked and admired him,
+      pitied him; the cowboys swore their regard for him the more he disgraced
+      himself. The Mexicans called him El Gran Capitan. Madeline's personal
+      opinion of Stewart had not changed in the least since the night it had
+      been formed. But certain attributes of his, not clearly defined in her
+      mind, and the gift of his beautiful horse, his valor with the fighting
+      rebels, and all this strange regard for him, especially that of her
+      brother, made her exceedingly regret the cowboy's present behavior.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile Stillwell was so earnest and zealous that one not familiar with
+      the situation would have believed he was trying to find and reclaim his
+      own son. He made several trips to little stations in the valley, and from
+      these he returned with a gloomy face. Madeline got the details from
+      Alfred. Stewart was going from bad to worse&mdash;drunk, disorderly,
+      savage, sure to land in the penitentiary. Then came a report that hurried
+      Stillwell off to Rodeo. He returned on the third day, a crushed man. He
+      had been so bitterly hurt that no one, not even Madeline, could get out of
+      him what had happened. He admitted finding Stewart, failing to influence
+      him; and when the old cattleman got so far he turned purple in the face
+      and talked to himself, as if dazed: &ldquo;But Gene was drunk. He was drunk, or
+      he couldn't hev treated old Bill like thet!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was stirred with an anger toward the brutal cowboy that was as
+      strong as her sorrow for the loyal old cattleman. And it was when
+      Stillwell gave up that she resolved to take a hand. The persistent faith
+      of Stillwell, his pathetic excuses in the face of what must have been
+      Stewart's violence, perhaps baseness, actuated her powerfully, gave her
+      new insight into human nature. She honored a faith that remained unshaken.
+      And the strange thought came to her that Stewart must somehow be worthy of
+      such a faith, or he never could have inspired it. Madeline discovered that
+      she wanted to believe that somewhere deep down in the most depraved and
+      sinful wretch upon earth there was some grain of good. She yearned to have
+      the faith in human nature that Stillwell had in Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sent Nels, mounted upon his own horse, and leading Majesty, to Rodeo
+      in search of Stewart. Nels had instructions to bring Stewart back to the
+      ranch. In due time Nels returned, leading the roan without a rider.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yep, I shore found him,&rdquo; replied Nels, when questioned. &ldquo;Found him half
+      sobered up. He'd been in a scrap, an' somebody hed put him to sleep, I
+      guess. Wal, when he seen thet roan hoss he let out a yell an' grabbed him
+      round the neck. The hoss knowed him, all right. Then Gene hugged the hoss
+      an' cried&mdash;cried like&mdash;I never seen no one who cried like he
+      did. I waited awhile, an' was jest goin' to say somethin' to him when he
+      turned on me red-eyed, mad as fire. 'Nels,' he said, 'I care a hell of a
+      lot fer thet boss, an' I liked you pretty well, but if you don't take him
+      away quick I'll shoot you both.' Wal, I lit out. I didn't even git to say
+      howdy to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, you think it useless&mdash;any attempt to see him&mdash;persuade
+      him?&rdquo; asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shore do, Miss Hammond,&rdquo; replied Nels, gravely. &ldquo;I've seen a few
+      sun-blinded an' locoed an' snake-poisoned an' skunk-bitten cow-punchers in
+      my day, but Gene Stewart beats 'em all. He's shore runnin' wild fer the
+      divide.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline dismissed Nels, but before he got out of earshot she heard him
+      speak to Stillwell, who awaited him on the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, put this in your pipe an' smoke it&mdash;none of them scraps Gene
+      has hed was over a woman! It used to be thet when he was drank he'd scrap
+      over every pretty Greaser girl he'd run across. Thet's why Pat Hawe thinks
+      Gene plugged the strange vaquero who was with little Bonita thet night
+      last fall. Wal, Gene's scrappin' now jest to git shot up hisself, for some
+      reason thet only God Almighty knows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels's story of how Stewart wept over his horse influenced Madeline
+      powerfully. Her next move was to persuade Alfred to see if he could not do
+      better with this doggedly bent cowboy. Alfred needed only a word of
+      persuasion, for he said he had considered going to Rodeo of his own
+      accord. He went, and returned alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty, I can't explain Stewart's singular actions,&rdquo; said Alfred. &ldquo;I saw
+      him, talked with him. He knew me, but nothing I said appeared to get to
+      him. He has changed terribly. I fancy his once magnificent strength is
+      breaking. It&mdash;it actually hurt me to look at him. I couldn't have
+      fetched him back here&mdash;not as he is now. I heard all about him, and
+      if he isn't downright out of his mind he's hell-bent, as Bill says, on
+      getting killed. Some of his escapades are&mdash;are not for your ears.
+      Bill did all any man could do for another. We've all done our best for
+      Stewart. If you'd been given a chance perhaps you could have saved him.
+      But it's too late. Put it out of mind now, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, however, did not forget nor give it up. If she had forgotten or
+      surrendered, she felt that she would have been relinquishing infinitely
+      more than hope to aid one ruined man. But she was at a loss to know what
+      further steps to take. Days passed, and each one brought additional gossip
+      of Stewart's headlong career toward the Yuma penitentiary. For he had
+      crossed the line into Cochise County, Arizona, where sheriffs kept a
+      stricter observance of law. Finally a letter came from a friend of Nels's
+      in Chiricahua saying that Stewart had been hurt in a brawl there. His hurt
+      was not serious, but it would probably keep him quiet long enough to get
+      sober, and this opportunity, Nels's informant said, would be a good one
+      for Stewart's friends to take him home before he got locked up. This
+      epistle inclosed a letter to Stewart from his sister. Evidently, it had
+      been found upon him. It told a story of illness and made an appeal for
+      aid. Nels's friend forwarded this letter without Stewart's knowledge,
+      thinking Stillwell might care to help Stewart's family. Stewart had no
+      money, he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sister's letter found its way to Madeline. She read it, tears in her
+      eyes. It told Madeline much more than its brief story of illness and
+      poverty and wonder why Gene had not written home for so long. It told of
+      motherly love, sisterly love, brotherly love&mdash;dear family ties that
+      had not been broken. It spoke of pride in this El Capitan brother who had
+      become famous. It was signed &ldquo;your loving sister Letty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Not improbably, Madeline revolved in mind, this letter was one reason for
+      Stewart's headstrong, long-continued abasement. It had been received too
+      late&mdash;after he had squandered the money that would have meant so much
+      to mother and sister. Be that as it might, Madeline immediately sent a
+      bank-draft to Stewart's sister with a letter explaining that the money was
+      drawn in advance on Stewart's salary. This done, she impulsively
+      determined to go to Chiricahua herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The horseback-rides Madeline had taken to this little Arizona hamlet had
+      tried her endurance to the utmost; but the journey by automobile, except
+      for some rocky bits of road and sandy stretches, was comfortable, and a
+      matter of only a few hours. The big touring-car was still a kind of
+      seventh wonder to the Mexicans and cowboys; not that automobiles were very
+      new and strange, but because this one was such an enormous machine and
+      capable of greater speed than an express-train. The chauffeur who had
+      arrived with the car found his situation among the jealous cowboys
+      somewhat far removed from a bed of roses. He had been induced to remain
+      long enough to teach the operating and mechanical technique of the car.
+      And choice fell upon Link Stevens, for the simple reason that of all the
+      cowboys he was the only one with any knack for mechanics. Now Link had
+      been a hard-riding, hard-driving cowboy, and that winter he had sustained
+      an injury to his leg, caused by a bad fall, and was unable to sit his
+      horse. This had been gall and wormwood to him. But when the big white
+      automobile came and he was elected to drive it, life was once more worth
+      living for him. But all the other cowboys regarded Link and his machine as
+      some correlated species of demon. They were deathly afraid of both.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was for this reason that Nels, when Madeline asked him to accompany her
+      to Chiricahua, replied, reluctantly, that he would rather follow on his
+      horse. However, she prevailed over his hesitancy, and with Florence also
+      in the car they set out. For miles and miles the valley road was smooth,
+      hard-packed, and slightly downhill. And when speeding was perfectly safe,
+      Madeline was not averse to it. The grassy plain sailed backward in gray
+      sheets, and the little dot in the valley grew larger and larger. From time
+      to time Link glanced round at unhappy Nels, whose eyes were wild and whose
+      hands clutched his seat. While the car was crossing the sandy and rocky
+      places, going slowly, Nels appeared to breathe easier. And when it stopped
+      in the wide, dusty street of Chiricahua Nels gladly tumbled out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, we shall wait here in the car while you find Stewart,&rdquo; said
+      Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, I reckon Gene'll run when he sees us, if he's able to run,&rdquo;
+       replied Nels. &ldquo;Wal, I'll go find him an' make up my mind then what we'd
+      better do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels crossed the railroad track and disappeared behind the low, flat
+      houses. After a little time he reappeared and hurried up to the car.
+      Madeline felt his gray gaze searching her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, I found him,&rdquo; said Nels. &ldquo;He was sleepin'. I woke him. He's
+      sober an' not bad hurt; but I don't believe you ought to see him. Mebbe
+      Florence&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, I want to see him myself. Why not? What did he say when you told
+      him I was here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shore I didn't tell him that. I jest says, 'Hullo, Gene!' an' he says,
+      'My Gawd! Nels! mebbe I ain't glad to see a human bein'.' He asked me who
+      was with me, an' I told him Link an' some friends. I said I'd fetch them
+      in. He hollered at thet. But I went, anyway. Now, if you really will see
+      him, Miss Hammond, it's a good chance. But shore it's a touchy matter, an'
+      you'll be some sick at sight of him. He's layin' in a Greaser hole over
+      here. Likely the Greasers hev been kind to him. But they're shore a poor
+      lot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline did not hesitate a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Nels. Take me at once. Come, Florence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They left the car, now surrounded by gaping-eyed Mexican children, and
+      crossed the dusty space to a narrow lane between red adobe walls. Passing
+      by several houses, Nels stopped at the door of what appeared to be an
+      alleyway leading back. It was filthy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's in there, around thet first corner. It's a patio, open an' sunny.
+      An', Miss Hammond, if you don't mind, I'll wait here for you. I reckon
+      Gene wouldn't like any fellers around when he sees you girls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was that which made Madeline hesitate then and go forward slowly. She
+      had given no thought at all to what Stewart might feel when suddenly
+      surprised by her presence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Florence, you wait also,&rdquo; said Madeline, at the doorway, and turned in
+      alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she had stepped into a broken-down patio littered with alfalfa straw
+      and debris, all clear in the sunlight. Upon a bench, back toward her, sat
+      a man looking out through the rents in the broken wall. He had not heard
+      her. The place was not quite so filthy and stifling as the passages
+      Madeline had come through to get there. Then she saw that it had been used
+      as a corral. A rat ran boldly across the dirt floor. The air swarmed with
+      flies, which the man brushed at with weary hand. Madeline did not
+      recognize Stewart. The side of his face exposed to her gaze was black,
+      bruised, bearded. His clothes were ragged and soiled. There were bits of
+      alfalfa in his hair. His shoulders sagged. He made a wretched and hopeless
+      figure sitting there. Madeline divined something of why Nels shrank from
+      being present.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Stewart. It is I, Miss Hammond, come to see you,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He grew suddenly perfectly motionless, as if he had been changed to stone.
+      She repeated her greeting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His body jerked. He moved violently as if instinctively to turn and face
+      this intruder; but a more violent movement checked him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline waited. How singular that this ruined cowboy had pride which kept
+      him from showing his face! And was it not shame more than pride?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Stewart, I have come to talk with you, if you will let me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go away,&rdquo; he muttered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Stewart!&rdquo; she began, with involuntary hauteur. But instantly she
+      corrected herself, became deliberate and cool, for she saw that she might
+      fail to be even heard by this man. &ldquo;I have come to help you. Will you let
+      me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For God's sake! You&mdash;you&mdash;&rdquo; he choked over the words. &ldquo;Go
+      away!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, perhaps it was for God's sake that I came,&rdquo; said Madeline,
+      gently. &ldquo;Surely it was for yours&mdash;and your sister's&mdash;&rdquo; Madeline
+      bit her tongue, for she had not meant to betray her knowledge of Letty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He groaned, and, staggering up to the broken wall, he leaned there with
+      his face hidden. Madeline reflected that perhaps the slip of speech had
+      been well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, please let me say what I have to say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was silent. And she gathered courage and inspiration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stillwell is deeply hurt, deeply grieved that he could not turn you back
+      from this&mdash;this fatal course. My brother is also. They wanted to help
+      you. And so do I. I have come, thinking somehow I might succeed where they
+      have failed. Nels brought your sister's letter. I&mdash;I read it. I was
+      only the more determined to try to help you, and indirectly help your
+      mother and Letty. Stewart, we want you to come to the ranch. Stillwell
+      needs you for his foreman. The position is open to you, and you can name
+      your salary. Both Al and Stillwell are worried about Don Carlos, the
+      vaqueros, and the raids down along the border. My cowboys are without a
+      capable leader. Will you come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Stillwell wants you so badly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, I want you to come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His replies had been hoarse, loud, furious. They disconcerted Madeline,
+      and she paused, trying to think of a way to proceed. Stewart staggered
+      away from the wall, and, falling upon the bench, he hid his face in his
+      hands. All his motions, like his speech, had been violent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you please go away?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, certainly I cannot remain here longer if you insist upon my
+      going. But why not listen to me when I want so much to help you? Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm a damned blackguard,&rdquo; he burst out. &ldquo;But I was a gentleman once, and
+      I'm not so low that I can stand for you seeing me here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I made up my mind to help you I made it up to see you wherever you
+      were. Stewart, come away, come back with us to the ranch. You are in a bad
+      condition now. Everything looks black to you. But that will pass. When you
+      are among friends again you will get well. You will be your old self. The
+      very fact that you were once a gentleman, that you come of good family,
+      makes you owe so much more to yourself. Why, Stewart, think how young you
+      are! It is a shame to waste your life. Come back with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, this was my last plunge,&rdquo; he replied, despondently. &ldquo;It's
+      too late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, it is not so bad as that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's too late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least make an effort, Stewart. Try!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. There's no use. I'm done for. Please leave me&mdash;thank you for&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had been savage, then sullen, and now he was grim. Madeline all but
+      lost power to resist his strange, deadly, cold finality. No doubt he knew
+      he was doomed. Yet something halted her&mdash;held her even as she took a
+      backward step. And she became conscious of a subtle change in her own
+      feeling. She had come into that squalid hole, Madeline Hammond, earnest
+      enough, kind enough in her own intentions; but she had been almost
+      imperious&mdash;a woman habitually, proudly used to being obeyed. She
+      divined that all the pride, blue blood, wealth, culture, distinction, all
+      the impersonal condescending persuasion, all the fatuous philanthropy on
+      earth would not avail to turn this man a single hair's-breadth from his
+      downward career to destruction. Her coming had terribly augmented his
+      bitter hate of himself. She was going to fail to help him. She experienced
+      a sensation of impotence that amounted almost to distress. The situation
+      assumed a tragic keenness. She had set forth to reverse the tide of a wild
+      cowboy's fortunes; she faced the swift wasting of his life, the damnation
+      of his soul. The subtle consciousness of change in her was the birth of
+      that faith she had revered in Stillwell. And all at once she became merely
+      a woman, brave and sweet and indomitable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, look at me,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shuddered. She advanced and laid a hand on his bent shoulder. Under the
+      light touch he appeared to sink.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at me,&rdquo; she repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he could not lift his head. He was abject, crushed. He dared not show
+      his swollen, blackened face. His fierce, cramped posture revealed more
+      than his features might have shown; it betrayed the torturing shame of a
+      man of pride and passion, a man who had been confronted in his degradation
+      by the woman he had dared to enshrine in his heart. It betrayed his love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, then,&rdquo; went on Madeline, and her voice was unsteady. &ldquo;Listen to
+      me, Stewart. The greatest men are those who have fallen deepest into the
+      mire, sinned most, suffered most, and then have fought their evil natures
+      and conquered. I think you can shake off this desperate mood and be a
+      man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo; he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen to me again. Somehow I know you're worthy of Stillwell's love.
+      Will you come back with us&mdash;for his sake?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. It's too late, I tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, the best thing in life is faith in human nature. I have faith in
+      you. I believe you are worth it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're only kind and good&mdash;saying that. You can't mean it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean it with all my heart,&rdquo; she replied, a sudden rich warmth suffusing
+      her body as she saw the first sign of his softening. &ldquo;Will you come back&mdash;if
+      not for your own sake or Stillwell's&mdash;then for mine?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What am I to such a woman as you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man in trouble, Stewart. But I have come to help you, to show my faith
+      in you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I believed that I might try,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen,&rdquo; she began, softly, hurriedly. &ldquo;My word is not lightly given. Let
+      it prove my faith in you. Look at me now and say you will come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He heaved up his big frame as if trying to cast off a giant's burden, and
+      then slowly he turned toward her. His face was a blotched and terrible
+      thing. The physical brutalizing marks were there, and at that instant all
+      that appeared human to Madeline was the dawning in dead, furnace-like eyes
+      of a beautiful light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll come,&rdquo; he whispered, huskily. &ldquo;Give me a few days to straighten up,
+      then I'll come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IX. The New Foreman
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Toward the end of the week Stillwell informed Madeline that Stewart had
+      arrived at the ranch and had taken up quarters with Nels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene's sick. He looks bad,&rdquo; said the old cattleman. &ldquo;He's so weak an'
+      shaky he can't lift a cup. Nels says that Gene has hed some bad spells. A
+      little liquor would straighten him up now. But Nels can't force him to
+      drink a drop, an' has hed to sneak some liquor in his coffee. Wal, I think
+      we'll pull Gene through. He's forgotten a lot. I was goin' to tell him
+      what he did to me up at Rodeo. But I know if he'd believe it he'd be
+      sicker than he is. Gene's losin' his mind, or he's got somethin' powerful
+      strange on it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From that time Stillwell, who evidently found Madeline his most
+      sympathetic listener, unburdened himself daily of his hopes and fears and
+      conjectures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart was really ill. It became necessary to send Link Stevens for a
+      physician. Then Stewart began slowly to mend and presently was able to get
+      up and about. Stillwell said the cowboy lacked interest and seemed to be a
+      broken man. This statement, however, the old cattleman modified as Stewart
+      continued to improve. Then presently it was a good augury of Stewart's
+      progress that the cowboys once more took up the teasing relation which had
+      been characteristic of them before his illness. A cowboy was indeed out of
+      sorts when he could not vent his peculiar humor on somebody or something.
+      Stewart had evidently become a broad target for their badinage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, the boys are sure after Gene,&rdquo; said Stillwell, with his huge smile.
+      &ldquo;Joshin' him all the time about how he sits around an' hangs around an'
+      loafs around jest to get a glimpse of you, Miss Majesty. Sure all the boys
+      hev a pretty bad case over their pretty boss, but none of them is a marker
+      to Gene. He's got it so bad, Miss Majesty, thet he actooly don't know they
+      are joshin' him. It's the amazin'est strange thing I ever seen. Why, Gene
+      was always a feller thet you could josh. An' he'd laugh an' get back at
+      you. But he was never before deaf to talk, an' there was a certain limit
+      no feller cared to cross with him. Now he takes every word an' smiles
+      dreamy like, an' jest looks an' looks. Why, he's beginnin' to make me
+      tired. He'll never run thet bunch of cowboys if he doesn't wake up quick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline smiled her amusement and expressed a belief that Stillwell wanted
+      too much in such short time from a man who had done body and mind a
+      grievous injury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It had been impossible for Madeline to fail to observe Stewart's singular
+      behavior. She never went out to take her customary walks and rides without
+      seeing him somewhere in the distance. She was aware that he watched for
+      her and avoided meeting her. When she sat on the porch during the
+      afternoon or at sunset Stewart could always be descried at some point
+      near. He idled listlessly in the sun, lounged on the porch of his
+      bunk-house, sat whittling the top bar of the corral fence, and always it
+      seemed to Madeline he was watching her. Once, while going the rounds with
+      her gardener, she encountered Stewart and greeted him kindly. He said
+      little, but he was not embarrassed. She did not recognize in his face any
+      feature that she remembered. In fact, on each of the few occasions when
+      she had met Stewart he had looked so different that she had no consistent
+      idea of his facial appearance. He was now pale, haggard, drawn. His eyes
+      held a shadow through which shone a soft, subdued light; and, once having
+      observed this, Madeline fancied it was like the light in Majesty's eyes,
+      in the dumb, worshiping eyes of her favorite stag-hound. She told Stewart
+      that she hoped he would soon be in the saddle again, and passed on her
+      way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That Stewart loved her Madeline could not help but see. She endeavored to
+      think of him as one of the many who, she was glad to know, liked her. But
+      she could not regulate her thoughts to fit the order her intelligence
+      prescribed. Thought of Stewart dissociated itself from thought of the
+      other cowboys. When she discovered this she felt a little surprise and
+      annoyance. Then she interrogated herself, and concluded that it was not
+      that Stewart was so different from his comrades, but that circumstances
+      made him stand out from them. She recalled her meeting with him that night
+      when he had tried to force her to marry him. This was unforgettable in
+      itself. She called subsequent mention of him, and found it had been
+      peculiarly memorable. The man and his actions seemed to hinge on events.
+      Lastly, the fact standing clear of all others in its relation to her
+      interest was that he had been almost ruined, almost lost, and she had
+      saved him. That alone was sufficient to explain why she thought of him
+      differently. She had befriended, uplifted the other cowboys; she had saved
+      Stewart's life. To be sure, he had been a ruffian, but a woman could not
+      save the life of even a ruffian without remembering it with gladness.
+      Madeline at length decided her interest in Stewart was natural, and that
+      her deeper feeling was pity. Perhaps the interest had been forced from
+      her; however, she gave the pity as she gave everything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart recovered his strength, though not in time to ride at the spring
+      round-up; and Stillwell discussed with Madeline the advisability of making
+      the cowboy his foreman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Gene seems to be gettin' along,&rdquo; said Stillwell. &ldquo;But he ain't like
+      his old self. I think more of him at thet. But where's his spirit? The
+      boys'd ride rough-shod all over him. Mebbe I'd do best to wait longer now,
+      as the slack season is on. All the same, if those vaquero of Don Carlos's
+      don't lay low I'll send Gene over there. Thet'll wake him up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A few days afterward Stillwell came to Madeline, rubbing his big hands in
+      satisfaction and wearing a grin that was enormous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, I reckon before this I've said things was amazin' strange.
+      But now Gene Stewart has gone an' done it! Listen to me. Them Greasers
+      down on our slope hev been gettin' prosperous. They're growin' like bad
+      weeds. An' they got a new padre&mdash;the little old feller from El Cajon,
+      Padre Marcos. Wal, this was all right, all the boys thought, except Gene.
+      An' he got blacker 'n thunder an' roared round like a dehorned bull. I was
+      sure glad to see he could get mad again. Then Gene haids down the slope
+      fer the church. Nels an' me follered him, thinkin' he might hev been took
+      sudden with a crazy spell or somethin'. He hasn't never been jest right
+      yet since he left off drinkin'. Wal, we run into him comin' out of the
+      church. We never was so dumfounded in our lives. Gene was crazy, all right&mdash;he
+      sure hed a spell. But it was the kind of a spell he hed thet paralyzed us.
+      He ran past us like a streak, an' we follered. We couldn't ketch him. We
+      heerd him laugh&mdash;the strangest laugh I ever heerd! You'd thought the
+      feller was suddenly made a king. He was like thet feller who was tied in a
+      bunyin'-sack an' throwed into the sea, an' cut his way out, an' swam to
+      the island where the treasures was, an' stood up yellin', 'The world is
+      mine.' Wal, when we got up to his bunk-house he was gone. He didn't come
+      back all day an' all night. Frankie Slade, who has a sharp tongue, says
+      Gene hed gone crazy for liquor an' thet was his finish. Nels was some
+      worried. An' I was sick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal' this mawnin' I went over to Nels's bunk. Some of the fellers was
+      there, all speculatin' about Gene. Then big as life Gene struts round the
+      corner. He wasn't the same Gene. His face was pale an' his eyes burned
+      like fire. He had thet old mockin', cool smile, an' somethin' besides thet
+      I couldn't understand. Frankie Slade up an' made a remark&mdash;no wuss
+      than he'd been makin' fer days&mdash;an' Gene tumbled him out of his
+      chair, punched him good, walked all over him. Frankie wasn't hurt so much
+      as he was bewildered. 'Gene,' he says, 'what the hell struck you?' An'
+      Gene says, kind of sweet like, 'Frankie, you may be a nice feller when
+      you're alone, but your talk's offensive to a gentleman.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After thet what was said to Gene was with a nice smile. Now, Miss
+      Majesty, it's beyond me what to allow for Gene's sudden change. First off,
+      I thought Padre Marcos had converted him. I actooly thought thet. But I
+      reckon it's only Gene Stewart come back&mdash;the old Gene Stewart an'
+      some. Thet's all I care about. I'm rememberin' how I once told you thet
+      Gene was the last of the cowboys. Perhaps I should hev said he's the last
+      of my kind of cowboys. Wal, Miss Majesty, you'll be apprecatin' of what I
+      meant from now on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was also beyond Madeline to account for Gene Stewart's antics, and,
+      making allowance for the old cattleman's fancy, she did not weigh his
+      remarks very heavily. She guessed why Stewart might have been angry at the
+      presence of Padre Marcos. Madeline supposed that it was rather an unusual
+      circumstance for a cowboy to be converted to religious belief. But it was
+      possible. And she knew that religious fervor often manifested itself in
+      extremes of feeling and action. Most likely, in Stewart's case, his real
+      manner had been both misunderstood and exaggerated. However, Madeline had
+      a curious desire, which she did not wholly admit to herself, to see the
+      cowboy and make her own deductions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The opportunity did not present itself for nearly two weeks. Stewart had
+      taken up his duties as foreman, and his activities were ceaseless. He was
+      absent most of the time, ranging down toward the Mexican line. When he
+      returned Stillwell sent for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was late in the afternoon of a day in the middle of April. Alfred and
+      Florence were with Madeline on the porch. They saw the cowboy turn his
+      horse over to one of the Mexican boys at the corral and then come with
+      weary step up to the house, beating the dust out of his gauntlets. Little
+      streams of gray sand trickled from his sombrero as he removed it and bowed
+      to the women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw the man she remembered, but with a singularly different
+      aspect. His skin was brown; his eyes were piercing and dark and steady; he
+      carried himself erect; he seemed preoccupied, and there was not a trace of
+      embarrassment in his manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Gene, I'm sure glad to see you,&rdquo; Stillwell was saying. &ldquo;Where do you
+      hail from?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Guadaloupe Canyon,&rdquo; replied the cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell whistled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Way down there! You don't mean you follered them hoss tracks thet far?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the way from Don Carlos's rancho across the Mexican line. I took Nick
+      Steele with me. Nick is the best tracker in the outfit. This trail we were
+      on led along the foothill valleys. First we thought whoever made it was
+      hunting for water. But they passed two ranches without watering. At
+      Seaton's Wash they dug for water. Here they met a pack-train of burros
+      that came down the mountain trail. The burros were heavily loaded. Horse
+      and burro tracks struck south from Seaton's to the old California emigrant
+      road. We followed the trail through Guadelope Canyon and across the
+      border. On the way back we stopped at Slaughter's ranch, where the United
+      States cavalry are camping. There we met foresters from the Peloncillo
+      forest reserve. If these fellows knew anything they kept it to themselves.
+      So we hit the trail home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I reckon you know enough?&rdquo; inquired Stillwell, slowly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon,&rdquo; replied Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, out with it, then,&rdquo; said Stillwell, gruffly. &ldquo;Miss Hammond can't be
+      kept in the dark much longer. Make your report to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboy shifted his dark gaze to Madeline. He was cool and slow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're losing a few cattle on the open range. Night-drives by the
+      vaqueros. Some of these cattle are driven across the valley, others up to
+      the foothills. So far as I can find out no cattle are being driven south.
+      So this raiding is a blind to fool the cowboys. Don Carlos is a Mexican
+      rebel. He located his rancho here a few years ago and pretended to raise
+      cattle. All that time he has been smuggling arms and ammunition across the
+      border. He was for Madero against Diaz. Now he is against Madero because
+      he and all the rebels think Madero failed to keep his promises. There will
+      be another revolution. And all the arms go from the States across the
+      border. Those burros I told about were packed with contraband goods.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's a matter for the United States cavalry. They are patrolling the
+      border,&rdquo; said Alfred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They can't stop the smuggling of arms, not down in that wild corner,&rdquo;
+       replied Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is my&mdash;my duty? What has it to do with me?&rdquo; inquired Madeline,
+      somewhat perturbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Miss Majesty, I reckon it hasn't nothing to do with you,&rdquo; put in
+      Stillwell. &ldquo;Thet's my bizness an' Stewart's. But I jest wanted you to
+      know. There might be some trouble follerin' my orders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your orders?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to send Stewart over to fire Don Carlos an' his vaqueros off the
+      range. They've got to go. Don Carlos is breakin' the law of the United
+      States, an' doin' it on our property an' with our hosses. Hev I your
+      permission, Miss Hammond?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, assuredly you have! Stillwell, you know what to do. Alfred, what do
+      you think best?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It'll make trouble, Majesty, but it's got to be done,&rdquo; replied Alfred.
+      &ldquo;Here you have a crowd of Eastern friends due next month. We want the
+      range to ourselves then. But, Stillwell, if you drive those vaqueros off,
+      won't they hang around in the foothills? I declare they are a bad lot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell's mind was not at ease. He paced the porch with a frown clouding
+      his brow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene, I reckon you got this Greaser deal figgered better'n me,&rdquo; said
+      Stillwell. &ldquo;Now what do you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He'll have to be forced off,&rdquo; replied Stewart, quietly. &ldquo;The Don's pretty
+      slick, but his vaqueros are bad actors. It's just this way. Nels said the
+      other day to me, 'Gene, I haven't packed a gun for years until lately, and
+      it feels good whenever I meet any of those strange Greasers.' You see,
+      Stillwell, Don Carlos has vaqueros coming and going all the time. They're
+      guerrilla bands, that's all. And they're getting uglier. There have been
+      several shooting-scrapes lately. A rancher named White, who lives up the
+      valley, was badly hurt. It's only a matter of time till something stirs up
+      the boys here. Stillwell, you know Nels and Monty and Nick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure I know 'em. An' you're not mentionin' one more particular cowboy in
+      my outfit,&rdquo; said Stillwell, with a dry chuckle and a glance at Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline divined the covert meaning, and a slight chill passed over her,
+      as if a cold wind had blown in from the hills.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, I see you carry a gun,&rdquo; she said, pointing to a black handle
+      protruding from a sheath swinging low along his leather chaps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, ma'am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you carry it?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it's not a pretty gun&mdash;and it's heavy.&rdquo; She caught
+      the inference. The gun was not an ornament. His keen, steady, dark gaze
+      caused her vague alarm. What had once seemed cool and audacious about this
+      cowboy was now cold and powerful and mystical. Both her instinct and her
+      intelligence realized the steel fiber of the man's nature. As she was his
+      employer, she had the right to demand that he should not do what was so
+      chillingly manifest that he might do. But Madeline could not demand. She
+      felt curiously young and weak, and the five months of Western life were as
+      if they had never been. She now had to do with a question involving human
+      life. And the value she placed upon human life and its spiritual
+      significance was a matter far from her cowboy's thoughts. A strange idea
+      flashed up. Did she place too much value upon all human life? She checked
+      that, wondering, almost horrified at herself. And then her intuition told
+      her that she possessed a far stronger power to move these primitive men
+      than any woman's stern rule or order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, I do not fully understand what you hint that Nels and his
+      comrades might do. Please be frank with me. Do you mean Nels would shoot
+      upon little provocation?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, as far as Nels is concerned, shooting is now just a matter
+      of his meeting Don Carlos's vaqueros. It's wonderful what Nels has stood
+      from them, considering the Mexicans he's already killed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Already killed! Stewart, you are not in earnest?&rdquo; cried Madeline,
+      shocked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am. Nels has seen hard life along the Arizona border. He likes peace as
+      well as any man. But a few years of that doesn't change what the early
+      days made of him. As for Nick Steele and Monty, they're just bad men, and
+      looking for trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How about yourself, Stewart? Stillwell's remark was not lost upon me,&rdquo;
+       said Madeline, prompted by curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart did not reply. He looked at her in respectful silence. In her keen
+      earnestness Madeline saw beneath his cool exterior and was all the more
+      baffled. Was there a slight, inscrutable, mocking light in his eyes, or
+      was it only her imagination? However, the cowboy's face was as hard as
+      flint.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, I have come to love my ranch,&rdquo; said Madeline, slowly, &ldquo;and I
+      care a great deal for my&mdash;my cowboys. It would be dreadful if they
+      were to kill anybody, or especially if one of them should be killed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, you've changed things considerable out here, but you can't
+      change these men. All that's needed to start them is a little trouble. And
+      this Mexican revolution is bound to make rough times along some of the
+      wilder passes across the border. We're in line, that's all. And the boys
+      are getting stirred up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, then, I must accept the inevitable. I am facing a rough time.
+      And some of my cowboys cannot be checked much longer. But, Stewart,
+      whatever you have been in the past, you have changed.&rdquo; She smiled at him,
+      and her voice was singularly sweet and rich. &ldquo;Stillwell has so often
+      referred to you as the last of his kind of cowboy. I have just a faint
+      idea of what a wild life you have led. Perhaps that fits you to be a
+      leader of such rough men. I am no judge of what a leader should do in this
+      crisis. My cowboys are entailing risk in my employ; my property is not
+      safe; perhaps my life even might be endangered. I want to rely upon you,
+      since Stillwell believes, and I, too, that you are the man for this place.
+      I shall give you no orders. But is it too much to ask that you be my kind
+      of a cowboy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline remembered Stewart's former brutality and shame and abject
+      worship, and she measured the great change in him by the contrast afforded
+      now in his dark, changeless, intent face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, what kind of a cowboy is that?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I don't exactly know. It is that kind which I feel you might be.
+      But I do know that in the problem at hand I want your actions to be
+      governed by reason, not passion. Human life is not for any man to
+      sacrifice unless in self-defense or in protecting those dependent upon
+      him. What Stillwell and you hinted makes me afraid of Nels and Nick Steele
+      and Monty. Cannot they be controlled? I want to feel that they will not go
+      gunning for Don Carlos's men. I want to avoid all violence. And yet when
+      my guests come I want to feel that they will be safe from danger or fright
+      or even annoyance. May I not rely wholly upon you, Stewart? Just trust you
+      to manage these obstreperous cowboys and protect my property and Alfred's,
+      and take care of us&mdash;of me, until this revolution is ended? I have
+      never had a day's worry since I bought the ranch. It is not that I want to
+      shirk my responsibilities; it is that I like being happy. May I put so
+      much faith in you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope so, Miss Hammond,&rdquo; replied Stewart. It was an instant response,
+      but none the less fraught with consciousness of responsibility. He waited
+      a moment, and then, as neither Stillwell nor Madeline offered further
+      speech, he bowed and turned down the path, his long spurs clinking in the
+      gravel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, wal,&rdquo; exclaimed Stillwell, &ldquo;thet's no little job you give him, Miss
+      Majesty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was a woman's cunning, Stillwell,&rdquo; said Alfred. &ldquo;My sister used to be
+      a wonder at getting her own way when we were kids. Just a smile or two, a
+      few sweet words or turns of thought, and she had what she wanted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al, what a character to give me!&rdquo; protested Madeline. &ldquo;Indeed, I was
+      deeply in earnest with Stewart. I do not understand just why, but I trust
+      him. He seems like iron and steel. Then I was a little frightened at the
+      prospect of trouble with the vaqueros. Both you and Stillwell have
+      influenced me to look upon Stewart as invaluable. I thought it best to
+      confess my utter helplessness and to look to him for support.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty, whatever actuated you, it was a stroke of diplomacy,&rdquo; replied
+      her brother. &ldquo;Stewart has got good stuff in him. He was down and out.
+      Well, he's made a game fight, and it looks as if he'd win. Trusting him,
+      giving him responsibility, relying upon him, was the surest way to
+      strengthen his hold upon himself. Then that little touch of sentiment
+      about being your kind of cowboy and protecting you&mdash;well, if Gene
+      Stewart doesn't develop into an Argus-eyed knight I'll say I don't know
+      cowboys. But, Majesty, remember, he's a composite of tiger breed and
+      forked lightning, and don't imagine he has failed you if he gets into a
+      fight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll sure tell you what Gene Stewart will do,&rdquo; said Florence. &ldquo;Don't I
+      know cowboys? Why, they used to take me up on their horses when I was a
+      baby. Gene Stewart will be the kind of cowboy your sister said he might
+      be, whatever that is. She may not know and we may not guess, but he
+      knows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Flo, there you hit plumb center,&rdquo; replied the old cattleman. &ldquo;An' I
+      couldn't be gladder if he was my own son.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      X. Don Carlos's Vaqueros
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Early the following morning Stewart, with a company of cowboys, departed
+      for Don Carlos's rancho. As the day wore on without any report from him,
+      Stillwell appeared to grow more at ease; and at nightfall he told Madeline
+      that he guessed there was now no reason for concern.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, though it's sure amazin' strange,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;I've been worryin'
+      some about how we was goin' to fire Don Carlos. But Gene has a way of
+      doin' things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day Stillwell and Alfred decided to ride over Don Carlos's place,
+      taking Madeline and Florence with them, and upon the return trip to stop
+      at Alfred's ranch. They started in the cool, gray dawn, and after three
+      hours' riding, as the sun began to get bright, they entered a mesquite
+      grove, surrounding corrals and barns, and a number of low, squat buildings
+      and a huge, rambling structure, all built of adobe and mostly crumbling to
+      ruin. Only one green spot relieved the bald red of grounds and walls; and
+      this evidently was made by the spring which had given both value and fame
+      to Don Carlos's range. The approach to the house was through a wide
+      courtyard, bare, stony, hard packed, with hitching-rails and
+      watering-troughs in front of a long porch. Several dusty, tired horses
+      stood with drooping heads and bridles down, their wet flanks attesting to
+      travel just ended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, dog-gone it, Al, if there ain't Pat Hawe's hoss I'll eat it,&rdquo;
+       exclaimed Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's Pat want here, anyhow?&rdquo; growled Alfred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No one was in sight; but Madeline heard loud voices coming from the house.
+      Stillwell dismounted at the porch and stalked in at the door. Alfred
+      leaped off his horse, helped Florence and Madeline down, and, bidding them
+      rest and wait on the porch, he followed Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hate these Greaser places,&rdquo; said Florence, with a grimace. &ldquo;They're so
+      mysterious and creepy. Just watch now! They'll be dark-skinned,
+      beady-eyed, soft-footed Greasers slip right up out of the ground! There'll
+      be an ugly face in every door and window and crack.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's like a huge barn with its characteristic odor permeated by tobacco
+      smoke,&rdquo; replied Madeline, sitting down beside Florence. &ldquo;I don't think
+      very much of this end of my purchase. Florence, isn't that Don Carlos's
+      black horse over there in the corral?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It sure is. Then the Don's heah yet. I wish we hadn't been in such a
+      hurry to come over. There! that doesn't sound encouraging.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From the corridor came the rattling of spurs, tramping of boots, and loud
+      voices. Madeline detected Alfred's quick notes when he was annoyed: &ldquo;We'll
+      rustle back home, then,&rdquo; he said. The answer came, &ldquo;No!&rdquo; Madeline
+      recognized Stewart's voice, and she quickly straightened up. &ldquo;I won't have
+      them in here,&rdquo; went on Alfred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Outdoors or in, they've got to be with us!&rdquo; replied Stewart, sharply.
+      &ldquo;Listen, Al,&rdquo; came the boom of Stillwell's big voice, &ldquo;now that we've
+      butted in over hyar with the girls, you let Stewart run things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then a crowd of men tramped pell-mell out upon the porch. Stewart,
+      dark-browed and somber, was in the lead. Nels hung close to him, and
+      Madeline's quick glance saw that Nels had undergone some indescribable
+      change. The grinning, brilliant-eyed Don Carlos came jostling out beside a
+      gaunt, sharp-featured man wearing a silver shield. This, no doubt, was Pat
+      Hawe. In the background behind Stillwell and Alfred stood Nick Steele,
+      head and shoulders over a number of vaqueros and cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, I'm sorry you came,&rdquo; said Stewart, bluntly. &ldquo;We're in a
+      muddle here. I've insisted that you and Flo be kept close to us. I'll
+      explain later. If you can't stop your ears I beg you to overlook rough
+      talk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that he turned to the men behind him: &ldquo;Nick, take Booly, go back to
+      Monty and the boys. Fetch out that stuff. All of it. Rustle, now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell and Alfred disengaged themselves from the crowd to take up
+      positions in front of Madeline and Florence. Pat Hawe leaned against a
+      post and insolently ogled Madeline and then Florence. Don Carlos pressed
+      forward. His whole figure filled Madeline's reluctant but fascinated eyes.
+      He wore tight velveteen breeches, with a heavy fold down the outside seam,
+      which was ornamented with silver buttons. Round his waist was a sash, and
+      a belt with fringed holster, from which protruded a pearl-handled gun. A
+      vest or waistcoat, richly embroidered, partly concealed a blouse of silk
+      and wholly revealed a silken scarf round his neck. His swarthy face showed
+      dark lines, like cords, under the surface. His little eyes were
+      exceedingly prominent and glittering. To Madeline his face seemed to be a
+      bold, handsome mask through which his eyes piercingly betrayed the evil
+      nature of the man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed low with elaborate and sinuous grace. His smile revealed
+      brilliant teeth, enhanced the brilliance of his eyes. He slowly spread
+      deprecatory hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senoritas, I beg a thousand pardons,&rdquo; he said. How strange it was for
+      Madeline to hear English spoken in a soft, whiningly sweet accent! &ldquo;The
+      gracious hospitality of Don Carlos has passed with his house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart stepped forward and, thrusting Don Carlos aside, he called, &ldquo;Make
+      way, there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The crowd fell back to the tramp of heavy boots. Cowboys appeared
+      staggering out of the corridor with long boxes. These they placed side by
+      side upon the floor of the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Hawe, we'll proceed with our business,&rdquo; said Stewart. &ldquo;You see these
+      boxes, don't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon I see a good many things round hyar,&rdquo; replied Hawe, meaningly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, do you intend to open these boxes upon my say-so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo; retorted Hawe. &ldquo;It's not my place to meddle with property as come by
+      express an' all accounted fer regular.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You call yourself a sheriff!&rdquo; exclaimed Stewart, scornfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mebbe you'll think so before long,&rdquo; rejoined Hawe, sullenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll open them. Here, one of you boys, knock the tops off these boxes,&rdquo;
+       ordered Stewart. &ldquo;No, not you, Monty. You use your eyes. Let Booly handle
+      the ax. Rustle, now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty Price had jumped out of the crowd into the middle of the porch. The
+      manner in which he gave way to Booly and faced the vaqueros was not
+      significant of friendliness or trust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, you're dead wrong to bust open them boxes. Thet's ag'in' the
+      law,&rdquo; protested Hawe, trying to interfere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart pushed him back. Then Don Carlos, who had been stunned by the
+      appearance of the boxes, suddenly became active in speech and person.
+      Stewart thrust him back also. The Mexican's excitement increased. He
+      wildly gesticulated; he exclaimed shrilly in Spanish. When, however, the
+      lids were wrenched open and an inside packing torn away he grew rigid and
+      silent. Madeline raised herself behind Stillwell to see that the boxes
+      were full of rifles and ammunition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, Hawe! What did I tell you?&rdquo; demanded Stewart. &ldquo;I came over here to
+      take charge of this ranch. I found these boxes hidden in an unused room. I
+      suspected what they were. Contraband goods!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, supposin' they are? I don't see any call fer sech all-fired fuss as
+      you're makin'. Stewart, I calkilate you're some stuck on your new job an'
+      want to make a big show before&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hawe, stop slinging that kind of talk,&rdquo; interrupted Stewart. &ldquo;You got too
+      free with your mouth once before! Now here, I'm supposed to be consulting
+      an officer of the law. Will you take charge of these contraband goods?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say, you're holdin' on high an' mighty,&rdquo; replied Hawe, in astonishment
+      that was plainly pretended. &ldquo;What 're you drivin' at?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart muttered an imprecation. He took several swift strides across the
+      porch; he held out his hands to Stillwell as if to indicate the
+      hopelessness of intelligent and reasonable arbitration; he looked at
+      Madeline with a glance eloquent of his regret that he could not handle the
+      situation to please her. Then as he wheeled he came face to face with
+      Nels, who had slipped forward out of the crowd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline gathered serious import from the steel-blue meaning flash of eyes
+      whereby Nels communicated something to Stewart. Whatever that something
+      was, it dispelled Stewart's impatience. A slight movement of his hand
+      brought Monty Price forward with a jump. In these sudden jumps of Monty's
+      there was a suggestion of restrained ferocity. Then Nels and Monty lined
+      up behind Stewart. It was a deliberate action, even to Madeline,
+      unmistakably formidable. Pat Hawe's face took on an ugly look; his eyes
+      had a reddish gleam. Don Carlos added a pale face and extreme nervousness
+      to his former expressions of agitation. The cowboys edged away from the
+      vaqueros and the bronzed, bearded horsemen who were evidently Hawe's
+      assistants.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm driving at this,&rdquo; spoke up Stewart, presently; and now he was slow
+      and caustic. &ldquo;Here's contraband of war! Hawe, do you get that? Arms and
+      ammunition for the rebels across the border! I charge you as an officer to
+      confiscate these goods and to arrest the smuggler&mdash;Don Carlos.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These words of Stewart's precipitated a riot among Don Carlos and his
+      followers, and they surged wildly around the sheriff. There was an
+      upflinging of brown, clenching hands, a shrill, jabbering babel of Mexican
+      voices. The crowd around Don Carlos grew louder and denser with the
+      addition of armed vaqueros and barefooted stable-boys and dusty-booted
+      herdsmen and blanketed Mexicans, the last of whom suddenly slipped from
+      doors and windows and round comers. It was a motley assemblage. The laced,
+      fringed, ornamented vaqueros presented a sharp contrast to the
+      bare-legged, sandal-footed boys and the ragged herders. Shrill cries,
+      evidently from Don Carlos, somewhat quieted the commotion. Then Don Carlos
+      could be heard addressing Sheriff Hawe in an exhortation of mingled
+      English and Spanish. He denied, he avowed, he proclaimed, and all in
+      rapid, passionate utterance. He tossed his black hair in his vehemence; he
+      waved his fists and stamped the floor; he rolled his glittering eyes; he
+      twisted his thin lips into a hundred different shapes, and like a cornered
+      wolf showed snarling white teeth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to Madeline that Don Carlos denied knowledge of the boxes of
+      contraband goods, then knowledge of their real contents, then knowledge of
+      their destination, and, finally, everything except that they were there in
+      sight, damning witnesses to somebody's complicity in the breaking of
+      neutrality laws. Passionate as had been his denial of all this, it was as
+      nothing compared to his denunciation of Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senor Stewart, he keel my Vaquero!&rdquo; shouted Don Carlos, as, sweating and
+      spent, he concluded his arraignment of the cowboy. &ldquo;Him you must arrest!
+      Senor Stewart a bad man! He keel my vaquero!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you hear thet?&rdquo; yelled Hawe. &ldquo;The Don's got you figgered fer thet
+      little job at El Cajon last fall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The clamor burst into a roar. Hawe began shaking his finger in Stewart's
+      face and hoarsely shouting. Then a lithe young vaquero, swift as an
+      Indian, glided under Hawe's uplifted arm. Whatever the action he intended,
+      he was too late for its execution. Stewart lunged out, struck the vaquero,
+      and knocked him off the porch. As he fell a dagger glittered in the
+      sunlight and rolled clinking over the stones. The man went down hard and
+      did not move. With the same abrupt violence, and a manner of contempt,
+      Stewart threw Hawe off the porch, then Don Carlos, who, being less supple,
+      fell heavily. Then the mob backed before Stewart's rush until all were
+      down in the courtyard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The shuffling of feet ceased, the clanking of spurs, and the shouting.
+      Nels and Monty, now reinforced by Nick Steele, were as shadows of Stewart,
+      so closely did they follow him. Stewart waved them back and stepped down
+      into the yard. He was absolutely fearless; but what struck Madeline so
+      keenly was his magnificent disdain. Manifestly, he knew the nature of the
+      men with whom he was dealing. From the look of him it was natural for
+      Madeline to expect them to give way before him, which they did, even Hawe
+      and his attendants sullenly retreating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Don Carlos got up to confront Stewart. The prostrate vaquero stirred and
+      moaned, but did not rise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You needn't jibber Spanish to me,&rdquo; said Stewart. &ldquo;You can talk American,
+      and you can understand American. If you start a rough-house here you and
+      your Greasers will be cleaned up. You've got to leave this ranch. You can
+      have the stock, the packs and traps in the second corral. There's grub,
+      too. Saddle up and hit the trail. Don Carlos, I'm dealing more than square
+      with you. You're lying about these boxes of guns and cartridges. You're
+      breaking the laws of my country, and you're doing it on property in my
+      charge. If I let smuggling go on here I'd be implicated myself. Now you
+      get off the range. If you don't I'll have the United States cavalry here
+      in six hours, and you can gamble they'll get what my cowboys leave of
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Don Carlos was either a capital actor and gratefully relieved at Stewart's
+      leniency or else he was thoroughly cowed by references to the troops. &ldquo;Si,
+      Senor! Gracias, Senor!&rdquo; he exclaimed; and then, turning away, he called to
+      his men. They hurried after him, while the fallen vaquero got to his feet
+      with Stewart's help and staggered across the courtyard. In a moment they
+      were gone, leaving Hawe and his several comrades behind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hawe was spitefully ejecting a wad of tobacco from his mouth and swearing
+      in an undertone about &ldquo;white-livered Greasers.&rdquo; He cocked his red eye
+      speculatively at Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I reckon as you're so hell-bent on doin' it up brown thet you'll try
+      to fire me off'n the range, too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I ever do, Pat, you'll need to be carried off,&rdquo; replied Stewart. &ldquo;Just
+      now I'm politely inviting you and your deputy sheriffs to leave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'll go; but we're comin' back one of these days, an' when we do we'll
+      put you in irons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hawe, if you've got it in that bad for me, come over here in the corral
+      and let's fight it out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm an officer, an' I don't fight outlaws an' sich except when I hev to
+      make arrests.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Officer! You're a disgrace to the county. If you ever did get irons on me
+      you'd take me some place out of sight, shoot me, and then swear you killed
+      me in self-defense. It wouldn't be the first time you pulled that trick,
+      Pat Hawe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ho, ho!&rdquo; laughed Hawe, derisively. Then he started toward the horses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart's long arm shot out, his hand clapped on Hawe's shoulder, spinning
+      him round like a top.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're leaving, Pat, but before you leave you'll come out with your play
+      or you'll crawl,&rdquo; said Stewart. &ldquo;You've got it in for me, man to man.
+      Speak up now and prove you're not the cowardly skunk I've always thought
+      you. I've called your hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Pat Hawe's face turned a blackish-purple hue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can jest bet thet I've got it in fer you,&rdquo; he shouted, hoarsely.
+      &ldquo;You're only a low-down cow-puncher. You never hed a dollar or a decent
+      job till you was mixed up with thet Hammond woman&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart's hand flashed out and hit Hawe's face in a ringing slap. The
+      sheriff's head jerked back, his sombrero fell to the ground. As he bent
+      over to reach it his hand shook, his arm shook, his whole body shook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty Price jumped straight forward and crouched down with a strange, low
+      cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart seemed all at once rigid, bending a little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say Miss Hammond, if there's occasion to use her name,&rdquo; said Stewart, in
+      a voice that seemed coolly pleasant, yet had a deadly undernote.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hawe did a moment's battle with strangling fury, which he conquered in
+      some measure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I said you was a low-down, drunken cow-puncher, a tough as damn near a
+      desperado as we ever hed on the border,&rdquo; went on Hawe, deliberately. His
+      speech appeared to be addressed to Stewart, although his flame-pointed
+      eyes were riveted upon Monty Price. &ldquo;I know you plugged that vaquero last
+      fall, an' when I git my proof I'm comin' after you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's all right, Hawe. You can call me what you like, and you can come
+      after me when you like,&rdquo; replied Stewart. &ldquo;But you're going to get in bad
+      with me. You're in bad now with Monty and Nels. Pretty soon you'll queer
+      yourself with all the cowboys and the ranchers, too. If that don't put
+      sense into you&mdash;Here, listen to this. You knew what these boxes
+      contained. You know Don Carlos has been smuggling arms and ammunition
+      across the border. You know he is hand and glove with the rebels. You've
+      been wearing blinders, and it has been to your interest. Take a hunch from
+      me. That's all. Light out now, and the less we see of your handsome mug
+      the better we'll like you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Muttering, cursing, pallid of face, Hawe climbed astride his horse. His
+      comrades followed suit. Certain it appeared that the sheriff was
+      contending with more than fear and wrath. He must have had an irresistible
+      impulse to fling more invective and threat upon Stewart, but he was
+      speechless. Savagely he spurred his horse, and as it snorted and leaped he
+      turned in his saddle, shaking his fist. His comrades led the way, with
+      their horses clattering into a canter. They disappeared through the gate.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    *       *       *
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      When, later in the day, Madeline and Florence, accompanied by Alfred and
+      Stillwell, left Don Carlos's ranch it was not any too soon for Madeline.
+      The inside of the Mexican's home was more unprepossessing and
+      uncomfortable than the outside. The halls were dark, the rooms huge,
+      empty, and musty; and there was an air of silence and secrecy and mystery
+      about them most fitting to the character Florence had bestowed upon the
+      place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the other hand, Alfred's ranch-house, where the party halted to spend
+      the night, was picturesquely located, small and cozy, camplike in its
+      arrangement, and altogether agreeable to Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The day's long rides and the exciting events had wearied her. She rested
+      while Florence and the two men got supper. During the meal Stillwell
+      expressed satisfaction over the good riddance of the vaqueros, and with
+      his usual optimism trusted he had seen the last of them. Alfred, too, took
+      a decidedly favorable view of the day's proceedings. However, it was not
+      lost upon Madeline that Florence appeared unusually quiet and thoughtful.
+      Madeline wondered a little at the cause. She remembered that Stewart had
+      wanted to come with them, or detail a few cowboys to accompany them, but
+      Alfred had laughed at the idea and would have none of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After supper Alfred monopolized the conversation by describing what he
+      wanted to do to improve his home before he and Florence were married.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then at an early hour they all retired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's deep slumbers were disturbed by a pounding upon the wall, and
+      then by Florence's crying out in answer to a call:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get up! Throw some clothes on and come out!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Alfred's voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter?&rdquo; asked Florence, as she slipped out of bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alfred, is there anything wrong?&rdquo; added Madeline, sitting up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The room was dark as pitch, but a faint glow seemed to mark the position
+      of the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nothing much,&rdquo; replied Alfred. &ldquo;Only Don Carlos's rancho going up in
+      smoke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fire!&rdquo; cried Florence, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll think so when you see it. Hurry out. Majesty, old girl, now you
+      won't have to tear down that heap of adobe, as you threatened. I don't
+      believe a wall will stand after that fire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'm glad of it,&rdquo; said Madeline. &ldquo;A good healthy fire will purify
+      the atmosphere over there and save me expense. Ugh! that haunted rancho
+      got on my nerves! Florence, I do believe you've appropriated part of my
+      riding-habit. Doesn't Alfred have lights in this house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence laughingly helped Madeline to dress. Then they hurriedly stumbled
+      over chairs, and, passing through the dining-room, went out upon the
+      porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Away to the westward, low down along the horizon, she saw leaping red
+      flames and wind-swept columns of smoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell appeared greatly perturbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al, I'm lookin' fer that ammunition to blow up,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;There was
+      enough of it to blow the roof off the rancho.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, surely the cowboys would get that stuff out the first thing,&rdquo;
+       replied Alfred, anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon so. But all the same, I'm worryin'. Mebbe there wasn't time.
+      Supposin' thet powder went off as the boys was goin' fer it or carryin' it
+      out! We'll know soon. If the explosion doesn't come quick now we can
+      figger the boys got the boxes out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For the next few moments there was a silence of sustained and painful
+      suspense. Florence gripped Madeline's arm. Madeline felt a fullness in her
+      throat and a rapid beating of her heart. Presently she was relieved with
+      the others when Stillwell declared the danger of an explosion needed to be
+      feared no longer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure you can gamble on Gene Stewart,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The night happened to be partly cloudy, with broken rifts showing the
+      moon, and the wind blew unusually strong. The brightness of the fire
+      seemed subdued. It was like a huge bonfire smothered by some great
+      covering, penetrated by different, widely separated points of flame. These
+      corners of flame flew up, curling in the wind, and then died down. Thus
+      the scene was constantly changing from dull light to dark. There came a
+      moment when a blacker shade overspread the wide area of flickering gleams
+      and then obliterated them. Night enfolded the scene. The moon peeped a
+      curved yellow rim from under broken clouds. To all appearances the fire
+      had burned itself out. But suddenly a pinpoint of light showed where all
+      had been dense black. It grew and became long and sharp. It moved. It had
+      life. It leaped up. Its color warmed from white to red. Then from all
+      about it burst flame on flame, to leap into a great changing pillar of
+      fire that climbed high and higher. Huge funnels of smoke, yellow, black,
+      white, all tinged with the color of fire, slanted skyward, drifting away
+      on the wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I reckon we won't hev the good of them two thousand tons of alfalfa
+      we was figgerin' on,&rdquo; remarked Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then that last outbreak of fire was burning hay,&rdquo; said Madeline. &ldquo;I
+      do not regret the rancho. But it's too bad to lose such a quantity of good
+      feed for the stock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's lost, an' no mistake. The fire's dyin' as quick as she flared up.
+      Wal, I hope none of the boys got risky to save a saddle or blanket. Monty&mdash;he's
+      hell on runnin' the gantlet of fire. He's like a hoss that's jest been
+      dragged out of a burnin' stable an' runs back sure locoed. There! She's
+      smolderin' down now. Reckon we-all might jest as well turn in again. It's
+      only three o'clock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder how the fire originated?&rdquo; remarked Alfred. &ldquo;Some careless
+      cowboy's cigarette, I'll bet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell rolled out his laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Al, you sure are a free-hearted, trustin' feller. I'm some doubtin' the
+      cigarette idee; but you can gamble if it was a cigarette it belonged to a
+      cunnin' vaquero, an' wasn't dropped accident-like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Bill, you don't mean Don Carlos burned the rancho?&rdquo; ejaculated
+      Alfred, in mingled amaze and anger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the old cattleman laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Powerful strange to say, my friend, ole Bill means jest thet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course Don Carlos set that fire,&rdquo; put in Florence, with spirit. &ldquo;Al,
+      if you live out heah a hundred years you'll never learn that Greasers are
+      treacherous. I know Gene Stewart suspected something underhand. That's why
+      he wanted us to hurry away. That's why he put me on the black horse of Don
+      Carlos's. He wants that horse for himself, and feared the Don would steal
+      or shoot him. And you, Bill Stillwell, you're as bad as Al. You never
+      distrust anybody till it's too late. You've been singing ever since
+      Stewart ordered the vaqueros off the range. But you sure haven't been
+      thinking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, now, Flo, you needn't pitch into me jest because I hev a natural
+      Christian spirit,&rdquo; replied Stillwell, much aggrieved. &ldquo;I reckon I've hed
+      enough trouble in my life so's not to go lookin' fer more. Wal, I'm sorry
+      about the hay burnin'. But mebbe the boys saved the stock. An' as fer that
+      ole adobe house of dark holes an' under-ground passages, so long's Miss
+      Majesty doesn't mind, I'm darn glad it burned. Come, let's all turn in
+      again. Somebody'll ride over early an' tell us what's what.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline awakened early, but not so early as the others, who were up and
+      had breakfast ready when she went into the dining-room. Stillwell was not
+      in an amiable frame of mind. The furrows of worry lined his broad brow and
+      he continually glanced at his watch, and growled because the cowboys were
+      so late in riding over with the news. He gulped his breakfast, and while
+      Madeline and the others ate theirs he tramped up and down the porch.
+      Madeline noted that Alfred grew nervous and restless. Presently he left
+      the table to join Stillwell outside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They'll slope off to Don Carlos's rancho and leave us to ride home
+      alone,&rdquo; observed Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mind?&rdquo; questioned Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't exactly mind; we've got the fastest horses in this country.
+      I'd like to run that big black devil off his legs. No, I don't mind; but
+      I've no hankering for a situation Gene Stewart thinks&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence began disconnectedly, and she ended evasively. Madeline did not
+      press the point, although she had some sense of misgiving. Stillwell
+      tramped in, shaking the floor with his huge boots; Alfred followed him,
+      carrying a field-glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a hoss in sight,&rdquo; complained Stillwell. &ldquo;Some-thin' wrong over Don
+      Carlos's way. Miss Majesty, it'll be jest as well fer you an' Flo to hit
+      the home trail. We can telephone over an' see that the boys know you're
+      comin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred, standing in the door, swept the gray valley with his field-glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, I see running stock-horses or cattle; I can't make out which. I
+      guess we'd better rustle over there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both men hurried out, and while the horses were being brought up and
+      saddled Madeline and Florence put away the breakfast-dishes, then speedily
+      donned spurs, sombreros, and gauntlets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here are the horses ready,&rdquo; called Alfred. &ldquo;Flo, that black Mexican horse
+      is a prince.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girls went out in time to hear Stillwell's good-by as he mounted and
+      spurred away. Alfred went through the motions of assisting Madeline and
+      Florence to mount, which assistance they always flouted, and then he, too,
+      swung up astride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess it's all right,&rdquo; he said, rather dubiously. &ldquo;You really must not
+      go over toward Don Carlos's. It's only a few miles home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure it's all right. We can ride, can't we?&rdquo; retorted Florence. &ldquo;Better
+      have a care for yourself, going off over there to mix in goodness knows
+      what.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred said good-by, spurred his horse, and rode away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If Bill didn't forget to telephone!&rdquo; exclaimed Florence. &ldquo;I declare he
+      and Al were sure rattled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence dismounted and went into the house. She left the door open.
+      Madeline had some difficulty in holding Majesty. It struck Madeline that
+      Florence stayed rather long indoors. Presently she came out with sober
+      face and rather tight lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I couldn't get anybody on the 'phone. No answer. I tried a dozen times.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Florence!&rdquo; Madeline was more concerned by the girl's looks than by
+      the information she imparted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The wire's been cut,&rdquo; said Florence. Her gray glance swept swiftly after
+      Alfred, who was now far out of earshot. &ldquo;I don't like this a little bit.
+      Heah's where I've got to 'figger,' as Bill says.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She pondered a moment, then hurried into the house, to return presently
+      with the field-glass that Alfred had used. With this she took a survey of
+      the valley, particularly in the direction of Madeline's ranch-house. This
+      was hidden by low, rolling ridges which were quite close by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anyway, nobody in that direction can see us leave heah,&rdquo; she mused.
+      &ldquo;There's mesquite on the ridges. We've got cover long enough to save us
+      till we can see what's ahead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Florence, what&mdash;what do you expect?&rdquo; asked Madeline, nervously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. There's never any telling about Greasers. I wish Bill and
+      Al hadn't left us. Still, come to think of that, they couldn't help us
+      much in case of a chase. We'd run right away from them. Besides, they'd
+      shoot. I guess I'm as well as satisfied that we've got the job of getting
+      home on our own hands. We don't dare follow Al toward Don Carlos's ranch.
+      We know there's trouble over there. So all that's left is to hit the trail
+      for home. Come, let's ride. You stick like a Spanish needle to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A heavy growth of mesquite covered the top of the first ridge, and the
+      trail went through it. Florence took the lead, proceeding cautiously, and
+      as soon as she could see over the summit she used the field-glass. Then
+      she went on. Madeline, following closely, saw down the slope of the ridge
+      to a bare, wide, grassy hollow, and onward to more rolling land, thick
+      with cactus and mesquite. Florence appeared cautious, deliberate, yet she
+      lost no time. She was ominously silent. Madeline's misgivings took
+      definite shape in the fear of vaqueros in ambush.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the ascent of the third ridge, which Madeline remembered was the last
+      uneven ground between the point she had reached and home, Florence
+      exercised even more guarded care in advancing. Before she reached the top
+      of this ridge she dismounted, looped her bridle round a dead snag, and,
+      motioning Madeline to wait, she slipped ahead through the mesquite out of
+      sight. Madeline waited, anxiously listening and watching. Certain it was
+      that she could not see or hear anything alarming. The sun began to have a
+      touch of heat; the morning breeze rustled the thin mesquite foliage; the
+      deep magenta of a cactus flower caught her eye; a long-tailed,
+      cruel-beaked, brown bird sailed so close to her she could have touched it
+      with her whip. But she was only vaguely aware of these things. She was
+      watching for Florence, listening for some sound fraught with untoward
+      meaning. All of a sudden she saw Majesty's ears were held straight up.
+      Then Florence's face, now strangely white, showed round the turn of the
+      trail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'S-s-s-sh!&rdquo; whispered Florence, holding up a warning finger. She reached
+      the black horse and petted him, evidently to still an uneasiness he
+      manifested. &ldquo;We're in for it,&rdquo; she went on. &ldquo;A whole bunch of vaqueros
+      hiding among the mesquite over the ridge! They've not seen or heard us
+      yet. We'd better risk riding ahead, cut off the trail, and beat them to
+      the ranch. Madeline, you're white as death! Don't faint now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall not faint. But you frighten me. Is there danger? What shall we
+      do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's danger. Madeline, I wouldn't deceive you,&rdquo; went on Florence, in
+      an earnest whisper. &ldquo;Things have turned out just as Gene Stewart hinted.
+      Oh, we should&mdash;Al should have listened to Gene! I believe&mdash;I'm
+      afraid Gene knew!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Knew what?&rdquo; asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind now. Listen. We daren't take the back trail. We'll go on. I've
+      a scheme to fool that grinning Don Carlos. Get down, Madeline&mdash;hurry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline dismounted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me your white sweater. Take it off&mdash;And that white hat! Hurry,
+      Madeline.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Florence, what on earth do you mean?&rdquo; cried Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so loud,&rdquo; whispered the other. Her gray eyes snapped. She had
+      divested herself of sombrero and jacket, which she held out to Madeline.
+      &ldquo;Heah. Take these. Give me yours. Then get up on the black. I'll ride
+      Majesty. Rustle now, Madeline. This is no time to talk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, dear, why&mdash;why do you want&mdash;? Ah! You're going to make the
+      vaqueros take you for me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You guessed it. Will you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall not allow you to do anything of the kind,&rdquo; returned Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was then that Florence's face, changing, took on the hard, stern
+      sharpness so typical of a cowboy's. Madeline had caught glimpses of that
+      expression in Alfred's face, and on Stewart's when he was silent, and on
+      Stillwell's always. It was a look of iron and fire&mdash;unchangeable,
+      unquenchable will. There was even much of violence in the swift action
+      whereby Florence compelled Madeline to the change of apparel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It 'd been my idea, anyhow, if Stewart hadn't told me to do it,&rdquo; said
+      Florence, her words as swift as her hands. &ldquo;Don Carlos is after you&mdash;you,
+      Miss Madeline Hammond! He wouldn't ambush a trail for any one else. He's
+      not killing cowboys these days. He wants you for some reason. So Gene
+      thought, and now I believe him. Well, we'll know for sure in five minutes.
+      You ride the black; I'll ride Majesty. We'll slip round through the brush,
+      out of sight and sound, till we can break out into the open. Then we'll
+      split. You make straight for the ranch. I'll cut loose for the valley
+      where Gene said positively the cowboys were with the cattle. The vaqueros
+      will take me for you. They all know those striking white things you wear.
+      They'll chase me. They'll never get anywhere near me. And you'll be on a
+      fast horse. He can take you home ahead of any vaqueros. But you won't be
+      chased. I'm staking all on that. Trust me, Madeline. If it were only my
+      calculation, maybe I'd&mdash;It's because I remember Stewart. That cowboy
+      knows things. Come, this heah's the safest and smartest way to fool Don
+      Carlos.&rdquo; Madeline felt herself more forced than persuaded into
+      acquiescence. She mounted the black and took up the bridle. In another
+      moment she was guiding her horse off the trail in the tracks of Majesty.
+      Florence led off at right angles, threading a slow passage through the
+      mesquite. She favored sandy patches and open aisles between the trees, and
+      was careful not to break a branch. Often she stopped to listen. This
+      detour of perhaps half a mile brought Madeline to where she could see open
+      ground, the ranch-house only a few miles off, and the cattle dotting the
+      valley. She had not lost her courage, but it was certain that these
+      familiar sights somewhat lightened the pressure upon her breast.
+      Excitement gripped her. The shrill whistle of a horse made both the black
+      and Majesty jump. Florence quickened the gait down the slope. Soon
+      Madeline saw the edge of the brush, the gray-bleached grass and level
+      ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence waited at the opening between the low trees. She gave Madeline a
+      quick, bright glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All over but the ride! That'll sure be easy. Bolt now and keep your
+      nerve!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Florence wheeled the fiery roan and screamed in his ear Madeline
+      seemed suddenly to grow lax and helpless. The big horse leaped into
+      thundering action. This was memorable of Bonita of the flying hair and the
+      wild night ride. Florence's hair streamed on the wind and shone gold in
+      the sunlight. Yet Madeline saw her with the same thrill with which she had
+      seen the wild-riding Bonita. Then hoarse shouts unclamped Madeline's power
+      of movement, and she spurred the black into the open.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He wanted to run and he was swift. Madeline loosened the reins&mdash;laid
+      them loose upon his neck. His action was strange to her. He was hard to
+      ride. But he was fast, and she cared for nothing else. Madeline knew
+      horses well enough to realize that the black had found he was free and
+      carrying a light weight. A few times she took up the bridle and pulled to
+      right or left, trying to guide him. He kept a straight course, however,
+      and crashed through small patches of mesquite and jumped the cracks and
+      washes. Uneven ground offered no perceptible obstacle to his running. To
+      Madeline there was now a thrilling difference in the lash of wind and the
+      flash of the gray ground underneath. She was running away from something;
+      what that was she did not know. But she remembered Florence, and she
+      wanted to look back, yet hated to do so for fear of the nameless danger
+      Florence had mentioned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline listened for the pounding of pursuing hoofs in her rear.
+      Involuntarily she glanced back. On the mile or more of gray level between
+      her and the ridge there was not a horse, a man, or anything living. She
+      wheeled to look back on the other side, down the valley slope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sight of Florence riding Majesty in zigzag flight before a whole troop
+      of vaqueros blanched Madeline's cheek and made her grip the pommel of her
+      saddle in terror. That strange gait of her roan was not his wonderful
+      stride. Could Majesty be running wild? Madeline saw one vaquero draw
+      closer, whirling his lasso round his head, but he did not get near enough
+      to throw. So it seemed to Madeline. Another vaquero swept across in front
+      of the first one. Then, when Madeline gasped in breathless expectancy, the
+      roan swerved to elude the attack. It flashed over Madeline that Florence
+      was putting the horse to some such awkward flight as might have been
+      expected of an Eastern girl frightened out of her wits. Madeline made sure
+      of this when, after looking again, she saw that Florence, in spite of the
+      horse's breaking gait and the irregular course, was drawing slowly and
+      surely down the valley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had not lost her head to the extent of forgetting her own mount
+      and the nature of the ground in front. When, presently, she turned again
+      to watch Florence, uncertainty ceased in her mind. The strange features of
+      that race between girl and vaqueros were no longer in evidence. Majesty
+      was in his beautiful, wonderful stride, low down along the ground,
+      stretching, with his nose level and straight for the valley. Between him
+      and the lean horses in pursuit lay an ever-increasing space. He was
+      running away from the vaqueros. Florence was indeed &ldquo;riding the wind,&rdquo; as
+      Stewart had aptly expressed his idea of flight upon the fleet roan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A dimness came over Madeline's eyes, and it was not all owing to the sting
+      of the wind. She rubbed it away, seeing Florence as a flying dot in a
+      strange blur. What a daring, intrepid girl! This kind of strength&mdash;and
+      aye, splendid thought for a weaker sister&mdash;was what the West
+      inculcated in a woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next time Madeline looked back Florence was far ahead of her pursuers
+      and going out of sight behind a low knoll. Assured of Florence's safety,
+      Madeline put her mind to her own ride and the possibilities awaiting at
+      the ranch. She remembered the failure to get any of her servants or
+      cowboys on the telephone. To be sure, a wind-storm had once broken the
+      wire. But she had little real hope of such being the case in this
+      instance. She rode on, pulling the black as she neared the ranch. Her
+      approach was from the south and off the usual trail, so that she went up
+      the long slope of the knoll toward the back of the house. Under these
+      circumstances she could not consider it out of the ordinary that she did
+      not see any one about the grounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was perhaps fortunate for her, she thought, that the climb up the slope
+      cut the black's speed so she could manage him. He was not very hard to
+      stop. The moment she dismounted, however, he jumped and trotted off. At
+      the edge of the slope, facing the corrals, he halted to lift his head and
+      shoot up his ears. Then he let out a piercing whistle and dashed down the
+      lane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, prepared by that warning whistle, tried to fortify herself for a
+      new and unexpected situation; but as she espied an unfamiliar company of
+      horsemen rapidly riding down a hollow leading from the foothills she felt
+      the return of fears gripping at her like cold hands, and she fled
+      precipitously into the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XI. A Band of Guerrillas
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Madeline bolted the door, and, flying into the kitchen, she told the
+      scared servants to shut themselves in. Then she ran to her own rooms. It
+      was only a matter of a few moments for her to close and bar the heavy
+      shutters, yet even as she was fastening the last one in the room she used
+      as an office a clattering roar of hoofs seemed to swell up to the front of
+      the house. She caught a glimpse of wild, shaggy horses and ragged, dusty
+      men. She had never seen any vaqueros that resembled these horsemen.
+      Vaqueros had grace and style; they were fond of lace and glitter and
+      fringe; they dressed their horses in silvered trappings. But the riders
+      now trampling into the driveway were uncouth, lean, savage. They were
+      guerrillas, a band of the raiders who had been harassing the border since
+      the beginning of the revolution. A second glimpse assured Madeline that
+      they were not all Mexicans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The presence of outlaws in that band brought home to Madeline her real
+      danger. She remembered what Stillwell had told her about recent outlaw
+      raids along the Rio Grande. These flying bands, operating under the
+      excitement of the revolution, appeared here and there, everywhere, in
+      remote places, and were gone as quickly as they came. Mostly they wanted
+      money and arms, but they would steal anything, and unprotected women had
+      suffered at their hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, hurriedly collecting her securities and the considerable money
+      she had in her desk, ran out, closed and locked the door, crossed the
+      patio to the opposite side of the house, and, entering again, went down a
+      long corridor, trying to decide which of the many unused rooms would be
+      best to hide in. And before she made up her mind she came to the last
+      room. Just then a battering on door or window in the direction of the
+      kitchen and shrill screams from the servant women increased Madeline's
+      alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She entered the last room. There was no lock or bar upon the door. But the
+      room was large and dark, and it was half full of bales of alfalfa hay.
+      Probably it was the safest place in the house; at least time would be
+      necessary to find any one hidden there. She dropped her valuables in a
+      dark corner and covered them with loose hay. That done, she felt her way
+      down a narrow aisle between the piled-up bales and presently crouched in a
+      niche.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With the necessity of action over for the immediate present, Madeline
+      became conscious that she was quivering and almost breathless. Her skin
+      felt tight and cold. There was a weight on her chest; her mouth was dry,
+      and she had a strange tendency to swallow. Her listening faculty seemed
+      most acute. Dull sounds came from parts of the house remote from her. In
+      the intervals of silence between these sounds she heard the squeaking and
+      rustling of mice in the hay. A mouse ran over her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She listened, waiting, hoping yet dreading to hear the clattering approach
+      of her cowboys. There would be fighting&mdash;blood&mdash;men injured,
+      perhaps killed. Even the thought of violence of any kind hurt her. But
+      perhaps the guerrillas would run in time to avoid a clash with her men.
+      She hoped for that, prayed for it. Through her mind flitted what she knew
+      of Nels, of Monty, of Nick Steele; and she experienced a sensation that
+      left her somewhat chilled and sick. Then she thought of the dark-browed,
+      fire-eyed Stewart. She felt a thrill drive away the cold nausea. And her
+      excitement augmented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Waiting, listening increased all her emotions. Nothing appeared to be
+      happening. Yet hours seemed to pass while she crouched there. Had Florence
+      been overtaken? Could any of those lean horses outrun Majesty? She doubted
+      it; she knew it could not be true. Nevertheless, the strain of uncertainty
+      was torturing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the bang of the corridor door pierced her through and through
+      with the dread of uncertainty. Some of the guerrillas had entered the east
+      wing of the house. She heard a babel of jabbering voices, the shuffling of
+      boots and clinking of spurs, the slamming of doors and ransacking of
+      rooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline lost faith in her hiding-place. Moreover, she found it impossible
+      to take the chance. The idea of being caught in that dark room by those
+      ruffians filled her with horror. She must get out into the light. Swiftly
+      she rose and went to the window. It was rather more of a door than window,
+      being a large aperture closed by two wooden doors on hinges. The iron hook
+      yielded readily to her grasp, and one door stuck fast, while the other
+      opened a few inches. She looked out upon a green slope covered with
+      flowers and bunches of sage and bushes. Neither man nor horse showed in
+      the narrow field of her vision. She believed she would be safer hidden out
+      there in the shrubbery than in the house. The jump from the window would
+      be easy for her. And with her quick decision came a rush and stir of
+      spirit that warded off her weakness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She pulled at the door. It did not budge. It had caught at the bottom.
+      Pulling with all her might proved to be in vain. Pausing, with palms hot
+      and bruised, she heard a louder, closer approach of the invaders of her
+      home. Fear, wrath, and impotence contested for supremacy over her and
+      drove her to desperation. She was alone here, and she must rely on
+      herself. And as she strained every muscle to move that obstinate door and
+      heard the quick, harsh voices of men and the sounds of a hurried search
+      she suddenly felt sure that they were hunting for her. She knew it. She
+      did not wonder at it. But she wondered if she were really Madeline
+      Hammond, and if it were possible that brutal men would harm her. Then the
+      tramping of heavy feet on the floor of the adjoining room lent her the
+      last strength of fear. Pushing with hands and shoulders, she moved the
+      door far enough to permit the passage of her body. Then she stepped up on
+      the sill and slipped through the aperture. She saw no one. Lightly she
+      jumped down and ran in among the bushes. But these did not afford her the
+      cover she needed. She stole from one clump to another, finding too late
+      that she had chosen with poor judgment. The position of the bushes had
+      drawn her closer to the front of the house rather than away from it, and
+      just before her were horses, and beyond a group of excited men. With her
+      heart in her throat Madeline crouched down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A shrill yell, followed by running and mounting guerrillas, roused her
+      hope. They had sighted the cowboys and were in flight. Rapid thumping of
+      boots on the porch told of men hurrying from the house. Several horses
+      dashed past her, not ten feet distant. One rider saw her, for he turned to
+      shout back. This drove Madeline into a panic. Hardly knowing what she did,
+      she began to run away from the house. Her feet seemed leaden. She felt the
+      same horrible powerlessness that sometimes came over her when she dreamed
+      of being pursued. Horses with shouting riders streaked past her in the
+      shrubbery. There was a thunder of hoofs behind her. She turned aside, but
+      the thundering grew nearer. She was being run down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Madeline shut her eyes and, staggering, was about to fall, apparently
+      right under pounding hoofs, a rude, powerful hand clapped round her waist,
+      clutched deep and strong, and swung her aloft. She felt a heavy blow when
+      the shoulder of the horse struck her, and then a wrenching of her arm as
+      she was dragged up. A sudden blighting pain made sight and feeling fade
+      from her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she did not become unconscious to the extent that she lost the sense
+      of being rapidly borne away. She seemed to hold that for a long time. When
+      her faculties began to return the motion of the horse was no longer
+      violent. For a few moments she could not determine her position.
+      Apparently she was upside down. Then she saw that she was facing the
+      ground, and must be lying across a saddle with her head hanging down. She
+      could not move a hand; she could not tell where her hands were. Then she
+      felt the touch of soft leather. She saw a high-topped Mexican boot,
+      wearing a huge silver spur, and the reeking flank and legs of a horse, and
+      a dusty, narrow trail. Soon a kind of red darkness veiled her eyes, her
+      head swam, and she felt motion and pain only dully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After what seemed a thousand weary hours some one lifted her from the
+      horse and laid her upon the ground, where, gradually, as the blood left
+      her head and she could see, she began to get the right relation of things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She lay in a sparse grove of firs, and the shadows told of late afternoon.
+      She smelled wood smoke, and she heard the sharp crunch of horses' teeth
+      nipping grass. Voices caused her to turn her face. A group of men stood
+      and sat round a camp-fire eating like wolves. The looks of her captors
+      made Madeline close her eyes, and the fascination, the fear they roused in
+      her made her open them again. Mostly they were thin-bodied, thin-bearded
+      Mexicans, black and haggard and starved. Whatever they might be, they
+      surely were hunger-stricken and squalid. Not one had a coat. A few had
+      scarfs. Some wore belts in which were scattered cartridges. Only a few had
+      guns, and these were of diverse patterns. Madeline could see no packs, no
+      blankets, and only a few cooking-utensils, all battered and blackened. Her
+      eyes fastened upon men she believed were white men; but it was from their
+      features and not their color that she judged. Once she had seen a band of
+      nomad robbers in the Sahara, and somehow was reminded of them by this
+      motley outlaw troop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They divided attention between the satisfying of ravenous appetites and a
+      vigilant watching down the forest aisles. They expected some one, Madeline
+      thought, and, manifestly, if it were a pursuing posse, they did not show
+      anxiety. She could not understand more than a word here and there that
+      they uttered. Presently, however, the name of Don Carlos revived keen
+      curiosity in her and realization of her situation, and then once more
+      dread possessed her breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A low exclamation and a sweep of arm from one of the guerrillas caused the
+      whole band to wheel and concentrate their attention in the opposite
+      direction. They heard something. They saw some one. Grimy hands sought
+      weapons, and then every man stiffened. Madeline saw what hunted men looked
+      like at the moment of discovery, and the sight was terrible. She closed
+      her eyes, sick with what she saw, fearful of the moment when the guns
+      would leap out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were muttered curses, a short period of silence followed by
+      whisperings, and then a clear voice rang out, &ldquo;El Capitan!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A strong shock vibrated through Madeline, and her eyelids swept open.
+      Instantly she associated the name El Capitan with Stewart and experienced
+      a sensation of strange regret. It was not pursuit or rescue she thought of
+      then, but death. These men would kill Stewart. But surely he had not come
+      alone. The lean, dark faces, corded and rigid, told her in what direction
+      to look. She heard the slow, heavy thump of hoofs. Soon into the wide
+      aisle between the trees moved the form of a man, arms flung high over his
+      head. Then Madeline saw the horse, and she recognized Majesty, and she
+      knew it was really Stewart who rode the roan. When doubt was no longer
+      possible she felt a suffocating sense of gladness and fear and wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Many of the guerrillas leaped up with drawn weapons. Still Stewart
+      approached with his hands high, and he rode right into the camp-fire
+      circle. Then a guerrilla, evidently the chief, waved down the threatening
+      men and strode up to Stewart. He greeted him. There was amaze and pleasure
+      and respect in the greeting. Madeline could tell that, though she did not
+      know what was said. At the moment Stewart appeared to her as cool and
+      careless as if he were dismounting at her porch steps. But when he got
+      down she saw that his face was white. He shook hands with the guerrilla,
+      and then his glittering eyes roved over the men and around the glade until
+      they rested upon Madeline. Without moving from his tracks he seemed to
+      leap, as if a powerful current had shocked him. Madeline tried to smile to
+      assure him she was alive and well; but the intent in his eyes, the power
+      of his controlled spirit telling her of her peril and his, froze the smile
+      on her lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With that he faced the chief and spoke rapidly in the Mexican jargon
+      Madeline had always found so difficult to translate. The chief answered,
+      spreading wide his hands, one of which indicated Madeline as she lay
+      there. Stewart drew the fellow a little aside and said something for his
+      ear alone. The chief's hands swept up in a gesture of surprise and
+      acquiescence. Again Stewart spoke swiftly. His hearer then turned to
+      address the band. Madeline caught the words &ldquo;Don Carlos&rdquo; and &ldquo;pesos.&rdquo;
+       There was a brief muttering protest which the chief thundered down.
+      Madeline guessed her release had been given by this guerrilla and bought
+      from the others of the band.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart strode to her side, leading the roan. Majesty reared and snorted
+      when he saw his mistress prostrate. Stewart knelt, still holding the
+      bridle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you all right?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so,&rdquo; she replied, essaying a laugh that was rather a failure. &ldquo;My
+      feet are tied.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dark blood blotted out all the white from his face, and lightning shot
+      from his eyes. She felt his hands, like steel tongs, loosening the bonds
+      round her ankles. Without a word he lifted her upright and then upon
+      Majesty. Madeline reeled a little in the saddle, held hard to the pommel
+      with one hand, and tried to lean on Stewart's shoulder with the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't give up,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She saw him gaze furtively into the forest on all sides. And it surprised
+      her to see the guerrillas riding away. Putting the two facts together,
+      Madeline formed an idea that neither Stewart nor the others desired to
+      meet with some one evidently due shortly in the glade. Stewart guided the
+      roan off to the right and walked beside Madeline, steadying her in the
+      saddle. At first Madeline was so weak and dizzy that she could scarcely
+      retain her seat. The dizziness left her presently, and then she made an
+      effort to ride without help. Her weakness, however, and a pain in her
+      wrenched arm made the task laborsome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart had struck off the trail, if there were one, and was keeping to
+      denser parts of the forest. The sun sank low, and the shafts of gold fell
+      with a long slant among the firs. Majesty's hoofs made no sound on the
+      soft ground, and Stewart strode on without speaking. Neither his hurry nor
+      vigilance relaxed until at least two miles had been covered. Then he held
+      to a straighter course and did not send so many glances into the darkening
+      woods. The level of the forest began to be cut up by little hollows, all
+      of which sloped and widened. Presently the soft ground gave place to bare,
+      rocky soil. The horse snorted and tossed his head. A sound of splashing
+      water broke the silence. The hollow opened into a wider one through which
+      a little brook murmured its way over the stones. Majesty snorted again and
+      stopped and bent his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wants a drink,&rdquo; said Madeline. &ldquo;I'm thirsty, too, and very tired.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart lifted her out of the saddle, and as their hands parted she felt
+      something moist and warm. Blood was running down her arm and into the palm
+      of her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm&mdash;bleeding,&rdquo; she said, a little unsteadily. &ldquo;Oh, I remember. My
+      arm was hurt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She held it out, the blood making her conscious of her weakness. Stewart's
+      fingers felt so firm and sure. Swiftly he ripped the wet sleeve. Her
+      forearm had been cut or scratched. He washed off the blood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Stewart, it's nothing. I was only a little nervous. I guess that's
+      the first time I ever saw my own blood.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made no reply as he tore her handkerchief into strips and bound her
+      arm. His swift motions and his silence gave her a hint of how he might
+      meet a more serious emergency. She felt safe. And because of that
+      impression, when he lifted his head and she saw that he was pale and
+      shaking, she was surprised. He stood before her folding his scarf, which
+      was still wet, and from which he made no effort to remove the red stains.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond,&rdquo; he said, hoarsely, &ldquo;it was a man's hands&mdash;a Greaser's
+      finger-nails&mdash;that cut your arm. I know who he was. I could have
+      killed him. But I mightn't have got your freedom. You understand? I didn't
+      dare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline gazed at Stewart, astounded more by his speech than his excessive
+      emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear boy!&rdquo; she exclaimed. And then she paused. She could not find
+      words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was making an apology to her for not killing a man who had laid a rough
+      hand upon her person. He was ashamed and seemed to be in a torture that
+      she would not understand why he had not killed the man. There seemed to be
+      something of passionate scorn in him that he had not been able to avenge
+      her as well as free her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, I understand. You were being my kind of cowboy. I thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But she did not understand so much as she implied. She had heard many
+      stories of this man's cool indifference to peril and death. He had always
+      seemed as hard as granite. Why should the sight of a little blood upon her
+      arm pale his cheek and shake his hand and thicken his voice? What was
+      there in his nature to make him implore her to see the only reason he
+      could not kill an outlaw? The answer to the first question was that he
+      loved her. It was beyond her to answer the second. But the secret of it
+      lay in the same strength from which his love sprang&mdash;an intensity of
+      feeling which seemed characteristic of these Western men of simple,
+      lonely, elemental lives. All at once over Madeline rushed a tide of
+      realization of how greatly it was possible for such a man as Stewart to
+      love her. The thought came to her in all its singular power. All her
+      Eastern lovers who had the graces that made them her equals in the sight
+      of the world were without the only great essential that a lonely, hard
+      life had given to Stewart. Nature here struck a just balance. Something
+      deep and dim in the future, an unknown voice, called to Madeline and
+      disturbed her. And because it was not a voice to her intelligence she
+      deadened the ears of her warm and throbbing life and decided never to
+      listen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it safe to rest a little?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;I am so tired. Perhaps I'll be
+      stronger if I rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're all right now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The horse will be better, too. I ran him
+      out. And uphill, at that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are we?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Up in the mountains, ten miles and more from the ranch. There's a trail
+      just below here. I can get you home by midnight. They'll be some worried
+      down there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What happened?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing much to any one but you. That's the&mdash;the hard luck of it.
+      Florence caught us out on the slope. We were returning from the fire. We
+      were dead beat. But we got to the ranch before any damage was done. We
+      sure had trouble in finding a trace of you. Nick spotted the prints of
+      your heels under the window. And then we knew. I had to fight the boys. If
+      they'd come after you we'd never have gotten you without a fight. I didn't
+      want that. Old Bill came out packing a dozen guns. He was crazy. I had to
+      rope Monty. Honest, I tied him to the porch. Nels and Nick promised to
+      stay and hold him till morning. That was the best I could do. I was sure
+      lucky to come up with the band so soon. I had figured right. I knew that
+      guerrilla chief. He's a bandit in Mexico. It's a business with him. But he
+      fought for Madero, and I was with him a good deal. He may be a Greaser,
+      but he's white.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you effect my release?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I offered them money. That's what the rebels all want. They need money.
+      They're a lot of poor, hungry devils.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I gathered that you offered to pay ransom. How much?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two thousand dollars Mex. I gave my word. I'll have to take the money. I
+      told them when and where I'd meet them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly. I'm glad I've got the money.&rdquo; Madeline laughed. &ldquo;What a
+      strange thing to happen to me! I wonder what dad would say to that?
+      Stewart, I'm afraid he'd say two thousand dollars is more than I'm worth.
+      But tell me. That rebel chieftain did not demand money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. The money is for his men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you say to him? I saw you whisper in his ear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart dropped his head, averting her direct gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We were comrades before Juarez. One day I dragged him out of a ditch. I
+      reminded him. Then I&mdash;I told him something I&mdash;I thought&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, I know from the way he looked at me that you spoke of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her companion did not offer a reply to this, and Madeline did not press
+      the point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard Don Carlos's name several times. That interests me. What have Don
+      Carlos and his vaqueros to do with this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That Greaser has all to do with it,&rdquo; replied Stewart, grimly. &ldquo;He burned
+      his ranch and corrals to keep us from getting them. But he also did it to
+      draw all the boys away from your home. They had a deep plot, all right. I
+      left orders for some one to stay with you. But Al and Stillwell, who're
+      both hot-headed, rode off this morning. Then the guerrillas came down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what was the idea&mdash;the plot&mdash;as you call it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To get you,&rdquo; he said, bluntly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me! Stewart, you do not mean my capture&mdash;whatever you call it&mdash;was
+      anything more than mere accident?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do mean that. But Stillwell and your brother think the guerrillas
+      wanted money and arms, and they just happened to make off with you because
+      you ran under a horse's nose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not incline to that point of view?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't. Neither does Nels nor Nick Steele. And we know Don Carlos and
+      the Greasers. Look how the vaqueros chased Flo for you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd rather not say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Stewart, I would like to know. If it is about me, surely I ought to
+      know,&rdquo; protested Madeline. &ldquo;What reason have Nels and Nick to suspect Don
+      Carlos of plotting to abduct me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose they've no reason you'd take. Once I heard Nels say he'd seen
+      the Greaser look at you, and if he ever saw him do it again he'd shoot
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Stewart, that is ridiculous. To shoot a man for looking at a woman!
+      This is a civilized country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, maybe it would be ridiculous in a civilized country. There's some
+      things about civilization I don't care for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, for instance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For one thing, I can't stand for the way men let other men treat women.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Stewart, this is strange talk from you, who, that night I came&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She broke off, sorry that she had spoken. His shame was not pleasant to
+      see. Suddenly he lifted his head, and she felt scorched by flaming eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suppose I was drunk. Suppose I had met some ordinary girl. Suppose I had
+      really made her marry me. Don't you think I would have stopped being a
+      drunkard and have been good to her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, I do not know what to think about you,&rdquo; replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then followed a short silence. Madeline saw the last bright rays of the
+      setting sun glide up over a distant crag. Stewart rebridled the horse and
+      looked at the saddle-girths.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I got off the trail. About Don Carlos I'll say right out, not what Nels
+      and Nick think, but what I know. Don Carlos hoped to make off with you for
+      himself, the same as if you had been a poor peon slave-girl down in
+      Sonora. Maybe he had a deeper plot than my rebel friend told me. Maybe he
+      even went so far as to hope for American troops to chase him. The rebels
+      are trying to stir up the United States. They'd welcome intervention. But,
+      however that may be, the Greaser meant evil to you, and has meant it ever
+      since he saw you first. That's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, you have done me and my family a service we can never hope to
+      repay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've done the service. Only don't mention pay to me. But there's one
+      thing I'd like you to know, and I find it hard to say. It's prompted,
+      maybe, by what I know you think of me and what I imagine your family and
+      friends would think if they knew. It's not prompted by pride or conceit.
+      And it's this: Such a woman as you should never have come to this
+      God-forsaken country unless she meant to forget herself. But as you did
+      come, and as you were dragged away by those devils, I want you to know
+      that all your wealth and position and influence&mdash;all that power
+      behind you&mdash;would never have saved you from hell to-night. Only such
+      a man as Nels or Nick Steele or I could have done that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline Hammond felt the great leveling force of the truth. Whatever the
+      difference between her and Stewart, or whatever the imagined difference
+      set up by false standards of class and culture, the truth was that here on
+      this wild mountain-side she was only a woman and he was simply a man. It
+      was a man that she needed, and if her choice could have been considered in
+      this extremity it would have fallen upon him who had just faced her in
+      quiet, bitter speech. Here was food for thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon we'd better start now,&rdquo; he said, and drew the horse close to a
+      large rock. &ldquo;Come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's will greatly exceeded her strength. For the first time she
+      acknowledged to herself that she had been hurt. Still, she did not feel
+      much pain except when she moved her shoulder. Once in the saddle, where
+      Stewart lifted her, she drooped weakly. The way was rough; every step the
+      horse took hurt her; and the slope of the ground threw her forward on the
+      pommel. Presently, as the slope grew rockier and her discomfort increased,
+      she forgot everything except that she was suffering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here is the trail,&rdquo; said Stewart, at length.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not far from that point Madeline swayed, and but for Stewart's support
+      would have fallen from the saddle. She heard him swear under his breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, this won't do,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Throw your leg over the pommel. The other
+      one&mdash;there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, mounting, he slipped behind her and lifted and turned her, and then
+      held her with his left arm so that she lay across the saddle and his
+      knees, her head against his shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the horse started into a rapid walk Madeline gradually lost all pain
+      and discomfort when she relaxed her muscles. Presently she let herself go
+      and lay inert, greatly to her relief. For a little while she seemed to be
+      half drunk with the gentle swaying of a hammock. Her mind became at once
+      dreamy and active, as if it thoughtfully recorded the slow, soft
+      impressions pouring in from all her senses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A red glow faded in the west. She could see out over the foothills, where
+      twilight was settling gray on the crests, dark in the hollows. Cedar and
+      pinyon trees lined the trail, and there were no more firs. At intervals
+      huge drab-colored rocks loomed over her. The sky was clear and steely. A
+      faint star twinkled. And lastly, close to her, she saw Stewart's face,
+      once more dark and impassive, with the inscrutable eyes fixed on the
+      trail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His arm, like a band of iron, held her, yet it was flexible and yielded
+      her to the motion of the horse. One instant she felt the brawn, the bone,
+      heavy and powerful; the next the stretch and ripple, the elasticity of
+      muscles. He held her as easily as if she were a child. The roughness of
+      his flannel shirt rubbed her cheek, and beneath that she felt the dampness
+      of the scarf he had used to bathe her arm, and deeper still the regular
+      pound of his heart. Against her ear, filling it with strong, vibrant beat,
+      his heart seemed a mighty engine deep within a great cavern. Her head had
+      never before rested on a man's breast, and she had no liking for it there;
+      but she felt more than the physical contact. The position was mysterious
+      and fascinating, and something natural in it made her think of life. Then
+      as the cool wind blew down from the heights, loosening her tumbled hair,
+      she was compelled to see strands of it curl softly into Stewart's face,
+      before his eyes, across his lips. She was unable to reach it with her free
+      hand, and therefore could not refasten it. And when she shut her eyes she
+      felt those loosened strands playing against his cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the keener press of such sensations she caught the smell of dust and a
+      faint, wild, sweet tang on the air. There was a low, rustling sigh of wind
+      in the brush along the trail. Suddenly the silence ripped apart to the
+      sharp bark of a coyote, and then, from far away, came a long wail. And
+      then Majesty's metal-rimmed hoof rang on a stone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These later things lent probability to that ride for Madeline. Otherwise
+      it would have seemed like a dream. Even so it was hard to believe. Again
+      she wondered if this woman who had begun to think and feel so much was
+      Madeline Hammond. Nothing had ever happened to her. And here, playing
+      about her like her hair played about Stewart's face, was adventure,
+      perhaps death, and surely life. She could not believe the evidence of the
+      day's happenings. Would any of her people, her friends, ever believe it?
+      Could she tell it? How impossible to think that a cunning Mexican might
+      have used her to further the interests of a forlorn revolution. She
+      remembered the ghoulish visages of those starved rebels, and marveled at
+      her blessed fortune in escaping them. She was safe, and now
+      self-preservation had some meaning for her. Stewart's arrival in the
+      glade, the courage with which he had faced the outlawed men, grew as real
+      to her now as the iron arm that clasped her. Had it been an instinct which
+      had importuned her to save this man when he lay ill and hopeless in the
+      shack at Chiricahua? In helping him had she hedged round her forces that
+      had just operated to save her life, or if not that, more than life was to
+      her? She believed so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline opened her eyes after a while and found that night had fallen.
+      The sky was a dark, velvety blue blazing with white stars. The cool wind
+      tugged at her hair, and through waving strands she saw Stewart's profile,
+      bold and sharp against the sky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, as her mind succumbed to her bodily fatigue, again her situation
+      became unreal and wild. A heavy languor, like a blanket, began to steal
+      upon her. She wavered and drifted. With the last half-conscious sense of a
+      muffled throb at her ear, a something intangibly sweet, deep-toned, and
+      strange, like a distant calling bell, she fell asleep with her head on
+      Stewart's breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XII. Friends from the East
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Three days after her return to the ranch Madeline could not discover any
+      physical discomfort as a reminder of her adventurous experiences. This
+      surprised her, but not nearly so much as the fact that after a few weeks
+      she found she scarcely remembered the adventures at all. If it had not
+      been for the quiet and persistent guardianship of her cowboys she might
+      almost have forgotten Don Carlos and the raiders. Madeline was assured of
+      the splendid physical fitness to which this ranch life had developed her,
+      and that she was assimilating something of the Western disregard of
+      danger. A hard ride, an accident, a day in the sun and dust, an adventure
+      with outlaws&mdash;these might once have been matters of large import, but
+      now for Madeline they were in order with all the rest of her changed life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was never a day that something interesting was not brought to her
+      notice. Stillwell, who had ceaselessly reproached himself for riding away
+      the morning Madeline was captured, grew more like an anxious parent than a
+      faithful superintendent. He was never at ease regarding her unless he was
+      near the ranch or had left Stewart there, or else Nels and Nick Steele.
+      Naturally, he trusted more to Stewart than to any one else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, it's sure amazin' strange about Gene,&rdquo; said the old
+      cattleman, as he tramped into Madeline's office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter now?&rdquo; she inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Gene has rustled off into the mountains again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Again? I did not know he had gone. I gave him money for that band of
+      guerrillas. Perhaps he went to take it to them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. He took that a day or so after he fetched you back home. Then in
+      about a week he went a second time. An' he packed some stuff with him. Now
+      he's sneaked off, an' Nels, who was down to the lower trail, saw him meet
+      somebody that looked like Padre Marcos. Wal, I went down to the church,
+      and, sure enough, Padre Marcos is gone. What do you think of that, Miss
+      Majesty?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe Stewart is getting religious,&rdquo; laughed Madeline. You told me so
+      once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell puffed and wiped his red face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you'd heerd him cuss Monty this mawnin' you'd never guess it was
+      religion. Monty an' Nels hev been givin' Gene a lot of trouble lately.
+      They're both sore an' in fightin' mood ever since Don Carlos hed you
+      kidnapped. Sure they're goin' to break soon, an' then we'll hev a couple
+      of wild Texas steers ridin' the range. I've a heap to worry me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let Stewart take his mysterious trips into the mountains. Here,
+      Stillwell, I have news for you that may give you reason for worry. I have
+      letters from home. And my sister, with a party of friends, is coming out
+      to visit me. They are society folk, and one of them is an English lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Miss Majesty, I reckon we'll all be glad to see them,&rdquo; said
+      Stillwell. &ldquo;Onless they pack you off back East.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That isn't likely,&rdquo; replied Madeline, thoughtfully. &ldquo;I must go back some
+      time, though. Well, let me read you a few extracts from my mail.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline took up her sister's letter with a strange sensation of how
+      easily sight of a crested monogram and scent of delicately perfumed paper
+      could recall the brilliant life she had given up. She scanned the pages of
+      beautiful handwriting. Helen's letter was in turn gay and brilliant and
+      lazy, just as she was herself; but Madeline detected more of curiosity in
+      it than of real longing to see the sister and brother in the Far West.
+      Much of what Helen wrote was enthusiastic anticipation of the fun she
+      expected to have with bashful cowboys. Helen seldom wrote letters, and she
+      never read anything, not even popular novels of the day. She was as
+      absolutely ignorant of the West as the Englishman, who, she said, expected
+      to hunt buffalo and fight Indians. Moreover, there was a satiric note in
+      the letter that Madeline did not like, and which roused her spirit.
+      Manifestly, Helen was reveling in the prospect of new sensation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she finished reading aloud a few paragraphs the old cattleman snorted
+      and his face grew redder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did your sister write that?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I&mdash;I beg pawdin, Miss Majesty. But it doesn't seem like you.
+      Does she think we're a lot of wild men from Borneo?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Evidently she does. I rather think she is in for a surprise. Now,
+      Stillwell, you are clever and you can see the situation. I want my guests
+      to enjoy their stay here, but I do not want that to be at the expense of
+      the feelings of all of us, or even any one. Helen will bring a lively
+      crowd. They'll crave excitement&mdash;the unusual. Let us see that they
+      are not disappointed. You take the boys into your confidence. Tell them
+      what to expect, and tell them how to meet it. I shall help you in that. I
+      want the boys to be on dress-parade when they are off duty. I want them to
+      be on their most elegant behavior. I do not care what they do, what
+      measures they take to protect themselves, what tricks they contrive, so
+      long as they do not overstep the limit of kindness and courtesy. I want
+      them to play their parts seriously, naturally, as if they had lived no
+      other way. My guests expect to have fun. Let us meet them with fun. Now
+      what do you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell rose, his great bulk towering, his huge face beaming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I say it's the most amazin' fine idee I ever heerd in my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, I am glad you like it,&rdquo; went on Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come to me again, Stillwell, after you have spoken to the boys. But, now
+      that I have suggested it, I am a little afraid. You know what cowboy fun
+      is. Perhaps&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you go back on that idee,&rdquo; interrupted Stillwell. He was assuring
+      and bland, but his hurry to convince Madeline betrayed him. &ldquo;Leave the
+      boys to me. Why, don't they all swear by you, same as the Mexicans do to
+      the Virgin? They won't disgrace you, Miss Majesty. They'll be simply
+      immense. It'll beat any show you ever seen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe it will,&rdquo; replied Madeline. She was still doubtful of her plan,
+      but the enthusiasm of the old cattleman was infectious and irresistible.
+      &ldquo;Very well, we will consider it settled. My guests will arrive on May
+      ninth. Meanwhile let us get Her Majesty's Rancho in shape for this
+      invasion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    *       *       *
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      On the afternoon of the ninth of May, perhaps half an hour after Madeline
+      had received a telephone message from Link Stevens announcing the arrival
+      of her guests at El Cajon, Florence called her out upon the porch.
+      Stillwell was there with his face wrinkled by his wonderful smile and his
+      eagle eyes riveted upon the distant valley. Far away, perhaps twenty
+      miles, a thin streak of white dust rose from the valley floor and slanted
+      skyward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; said Florence, excitedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Link Stevens and the automobile!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no! Why, it's only a few minutes since he telephoned saying the party
+      had just arrived.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take a look with the glasses,&rdquo; said Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One glance through the powerful binoculars convinced Madeline that
+      Florence was right. And another glance at Stillwell told her that he was
+      speechless with delight. She remembered a little conversation she had had
+      with Link Stevens a short while previous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stevens, I hope the car is in good shape,&rdquo; she had said. &ldquo;Now, Miss
+      Hammond, she's as right as the best-trained hoss I ever rode,&rdquo; he had
+      replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The valley road is perfect,&rdquo; she had gone on, musingly. &ldquo;I never saw such
+      a beautiful road, even in France. No fences, no ditches, no rocks, no
+      vehicles. Just a lonely road on the desert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shore, it's lonely,&rdquo; Stevens had answered, with slowly brightening eyes.
+      &ldquo;An' safe, Miss Hammond.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My sister used to like fast riding. If I remember correctly, all of my
+      guests were a little afflicted with the speed mania. It is a common
+      disease with New-Yorkers. I hope, Stevens, that you will not give them
+      reason to think we are altogether steeped in the slow, dreamy manana
+      languor of the Southwest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Link doubtfully eyed her, and then his bronze face changed its dark aspect
+      and seemed to shine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beggin' your pardon, Miss Hammond, thet's shore tall talk fer Link
+      Stevens to savvy. You mean&mdash;as long as I drive careful an' safe I can
+      run away from my dust, so to say, an' get here in somethin' less than the
+      Greaser's to-morrow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had laughed her assent. And now, as she watched the thin streak
+      of dust, at that distance moving with snail pace, she reproached herself.
+      She trusted Stevens; she had never known so skilful, daring, and
+      iron-nerved a driver as he was. If she had been in the car herself she
+      would have had no anxiety. But, imagining what Stevens would do on forty
+      miles and more of that desert road, Madeline suffered a prick of
+      conscience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Stillwell!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;I am afraid I will go back on my
+      wonderful idea. What made me do it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your sister wanted the real thing, didn't she? Said they all wanted it.
+      Wal, I reckon they've begun gettin' it,&rdquo; replied Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That statement from the cattleman allayed Madeline's pangs of conscience.
+      She understood just what she felt, though she could not have put it in
+      words. She was hungry for a sight of well-remembered faces; she longed to
+      hear the soft laughter and gay repartee of old friends; she was eager for
+      gossipy first-hand news of her old world. Nevertheless, something in her
+      sister's letter, in messages from the others who were coming, had touched
+      Madeline's pride. In one sense the expected guests were hostile, inasmuch
+      as they were scornful and curious about the West that had claimed her. She
+      imagined what they would expect in a Western ranch. They would surely get
+      the real thing, too, as Stillwell said; and in that certainty was
+      satisfaction for a small grain of something within Madeline which
+      approached resentment. She wistfully wondered, however, if her sister or
+      friends would come to see the West even a little as she saw it. That,
+      perhaps, would he hoping too much. She resolved once for all to do her
+      best to give them the sensation their senses craved, and equally to show
+      them the sweetness and beauty and wholesomeness and strength of life in
+      the Southwest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, as Nels says, I wouldn't be in that there ottomobile right now for a
+      million pesos,&rdquo; remarked Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? Is Stevens driving fast?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Lord! Fast? Miss Majesty, there hain't ever been anythin' except a
+      streak of lightnin' run so fast in this country. I'll bet Link for once is
+      in heaven. I can jest see him now, the grim, crooked-legged little devil,
+      hunchin' down over that wheel as if it was a hoss's neck.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told him not to let the ride be hot or dusty,&rdquo; remarked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haw, haw!&rdquo; roared Stillwell. &ldquo;Wal, I'll be goin'. I reckon I'd like to be
+      hyar when Link drives up, but I want to be with the boys down by the
+      bunks. It'll be some fun to see Nels an' Monty when Link comes flyin'
+      along.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish Al had stayed to meet them,&rdquo; said Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her brother had rather hurried a shipment of cattle to California: and it
+      was Madeline's supposition that he had welcomed the opportunity to absent
+      himself from the ranch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry he wouldn't stay,&rdquo; replied Florence. &ldquo;But Al's all business
+      now. And he's doing finely. It's just as well, perhaps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely. That was my pride speaking. I would like to have all my family
+      and all my old friends see what a man Al has become. Well, Link Stevens is
+      running like the wind. The car will be here before we know it. Florence,
+      we've only a few moments to dress. But first I want to order many and
+      various and exceedingly cold refreshments for that approaching party.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Less than a half-hour later Madeline went again to the porch and found
+      Florence there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you look just lovely!&rdquo; exclaimed Florence, impulsively, as she gazed
+      wide-eyed up at Madeline. &ldquo;And somehow so different!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline smiled a little sadly. Perhaps when she had put on that exquisite
+      white gown something had come to her of the manner which befitted the
+      wearing of it. She could not resist the desire to look fair once more in
+      the eyes of these hypercritical friends. The sad smile had been for the
+      days that were gone. For she knew that what society had once been pleased
+      to call her beauty had trebled since it had last been seen in a
+      drawing-room. Madeline wore no jewels, but at her waist she had pinned two
+      great crimson roses. Against the dead white they had the life and fire and
+      redness of the desert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Link's hit the old round-up trail,&rdquo; said Florence, &ldquo;and oh, isn't he
+      riding that car!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With Florence, as with most of the cowboys, the car was never driven, but
+      ridden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A white spot with a long trail of dust showed low down in the valley. It
+      was now headed almost straight for the ranch. Madeline watched it growing
+      larger moment by moment, and her pleasurable emotion grew accordingly.
+      Then the rapid beat of a horse's hoofs caused her to turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart was riding in on his black horse. He had been absent on an
+      important mission, and his duty had taken him to the international
+      boundary-line. His presence home long before he was expected was
+      particularly gratifying to Madeline, for it meant that his mission had
+      been brought to a successful issue. Once more, for the hundredth time, the
+      man's reliability struck Madeline. He was a doer of things. The black
+      horse halted wearily without the usual pound of hoofs on the gravel, and
+      the dusty rider dismounted wearily. Both horse and rider showed the heat
+      and dust and wind of many miles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline advanced to the porch steps. And Stewart, after taking a parcel
+      of papers from a saddle-bag, turned toward her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, you are the best of couriers,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I am pleased.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dust streamed from his sombrero as he doffed it. His dark face seemed to
+      rise as he straightened weary shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here are the reports, Miss Hammond,&rdquo; he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he looked up to see her standing there, dressed to receive her Eastern
+      guests, he checked his advance with a violent action which recalled to
+      Madeline the one he had made on the night she had met him, when she
+      disclosed her identity. It was not fear nor embarrassment nor awkwardness.
+      And it was only momentary. Yet, slight as had been his pause, Madeline
+      received from it an impression of some strong halting force. A man struck
+      by a bullet might have had an instant jerk of muscular control such as
+      convulsed Stewart. In that instant, as her keen gaze searched his
+      dust-caked face, she met the full, free look of his eyes. Her own did not
+      fall, though she felt a warmth steal to her cheeks. Madeline very seldom
+      blushed. And now, conscious of her sudden color a genuine blush flamed on
+      her face. It was irritating because it was incomprehensible. She received
+      the papers from Stewart and thanked him. He bowed, then led the black down
+      the path toward the corrals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When Stewart looks like that he's been riding,&rdquo; said Florence. &ldquo;But when
+      his horse looks like that he's sure been burning the wind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline watched the weary horse and rider limp down the path. What had
+      made her thoughtful? Mostly it was something new or sudden or inexplicable
+      that stirred her mind to quick analysis. In this instance the thing that
+      had struck Madeline was Stewart's glance. He had looked at her, and the
+      old burning, inscrutable fire, the darkness, had left his eyes. Suddenly
+      they had been beautiful. The look had not been one of surprise or
+      admiration; nor had it been one of love. She was familiar, too familiar
+      with all three. It had not been a gaze of passion, for there was nothing
+      beautiful in that. Madeline pondered. And presently she realized that
+      Stewart's eyes had expressed a strange joy of pride. That expression
+      Madeline had never before encountered in the look of any man. Probably its
+      strangeness had made her notice it and accounted for her blushing. The
+      longer she lived among these outdoor men the more they surprised her.
+      Particularly, how incomprehensible was this cowboy Stewart! Why should he
+      have pride or joy at sight of her?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence's exclamation made Madeline once more attend to the approaching
+      automobile. It was on the slope now, some miles down the long gradual
+      slant. Two yellow funnel-shaped clouds of dust seemed to shoot out from
+      behind the car and roll aloft to join the column that stretched down the
+      valley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder what riding a mile a minute would be like,&rdquo; said Florence. &ldquo;I'll
+      sure make Link take me. Oh, but look at him come!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The giant car resembled a white demon, and but for the dust would have
+      appeared to be sailing in the air. Its motion was steadily forward,
+      holding to the road as if on rails. And its velocity was astounding. Long,
+      gray veils, like pennants, streamed in the wind. A low rushing sound
+      became perceptible, and it grew louder, became a roar. The car shot like
+      an arrow past the alfalfa-field, by the bunk-houses, where the cowboys
+      waved and cheered. The horses and burros in the corrals began to snort and
+      tramp and race in fright. At the base of the long slope of the foothill
+      Link cut the speed more than half. Yet the car roared up, rolling the
+      dust, flying capes and veils and ulsters, and crashed and cracked to a
+      halt in the yard before the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline descried a gray, disheveled mass of humanity packed inside the
+      car. Besides the driver there were seven occupants, and for a moment they
+      appeared to be coming to life, moving and exclaiming under the veils and
+      wraps and dust-shields.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Link Stevens stepped out and, removing helmet and goggles, coolly looked
+      at his watch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An hour an' a quarter, Miss Hammond,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It's sixty-three miles by
+      the valley road, an' you know there's a couple of bad hills. I reckon we
+      made fair time, considerin' you wanted me to drive slow an' safe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From the mass of dusty-veiled humanity in the car came low exclamations
+      and plaintive feminine wails.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline stepped to the front of the porch. Then the deep voices of men
+      and softer voices of women united in one glad outburst, as much a
+      thanksgiving as a greeting, &ldquo;MAJESTY!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      Helen Hammond was three years younger than Madeline, and a slender, pretty
+      girl. She did not resemble her sister, except in whiteness and fineness of
+      skin, being more of a brown-eyed, brown-haired type. Having recovered her
+      breath soon after Madeline took her to her room, she began to talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty, old girl, I'm here; but you can bet I would never have gotten
+      here if I had known about that ride from the railroad. You never wrote
+      that you had a car. I thought this was out West&mdash;stage-coach, and all
+      that sort of thing. Such a tremendous car! And the road! And that terrible
+      little man with the leather trousers! What kind of a chauffeur is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's a cowboy. He was crippled by falling under his horse, so I had him
+      instructed to run the car. He can drive, don't you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Drive? Good gracious! He scared us to death, except Castleton. Nothing
+      could scare that cold-blooded little Englishman. I am dizzy yet. Do you
+      know, Majesty, I was delighted when I saw the car. Then your cowboy driver
+      met us at the platform. What a queer-looking individual! He had a big
+      pistol strapped to those leather trousers. That made me nervous. When he
+      piled us all in with our grips, he put me in the seat beside him, whether
+      I liked it or not. I was fool enough to tell him I loved to travel fast.
+      What do you think he said? Well, he eyed me in a rather cool and
+      speculative way and said, with a smile, 'Miss, I reckon anything you love
+      an' want bad will be coming to you out here!' I didn't know whether it was
+      delightful candor or impudence. Then he said to all of us: 'Shore you had
+      better wrap up in the veils an' dusters. It's a long, slow, hot, dusty
+      ride to the ranch, an' Miss Hammond's order was to drive safe.' He got our
+      baggage checks and gave them to a man with a huge wagon and a four-horse
+      team. Then he cranked the car, jumped in, wrapped his arms round the
+      wheel, and sank down low in his seat. There was a crack, a jerk, a kind of
+      flash around us, and that dirty little town was somewhere on the map
+      behind. For about five minutes I had a lovely time. Then the wind began to
+      tear me to pieces. I couldn't hear anything but the rush of wind and roar
+      of the car. I could see only straight ahead. What a road! I never saw a
+      road in my life till to-day. Miles and miles and miles ahead, with not
+      even a post or tree. That big car seemed to leap at the miles. It hummed
+      and sang. I was fascinated, then terrified. We went so fast I couldn't
+      catch my breath. The wind went through me, and I expected to be disrobed
+      by it any minute. I was afraid I couldn't hold any clothes on. Presently
+      all I could see was a flashing gray wall with a white line in the middle.
+      Then my eyes blurred. My face burned. My ears grew full of a hundred
+      thousand howling devils. I was about ready to die when the car stopped. I
+      looked and looked, and when I could see, there you stood!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen, I thought you were fond of speeding,&rdquo; said Madeline, with a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was. But I assure you I never before was in a fast car; I never saw a
+      road; I never met a driver.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps I may have a few surprises for you out here in the wild and
+      woolly West.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen's dark eyes showed a sister's memory of possibilities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've started well,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I am simply stunned. I expected to find
+      you old and dowdy. Majesty, you're the handsomest thing I ever laid eyes
+      on. You're so splendid and strong, and your skin is like white gold.
+      What's happened to you? What's changed you? This beautiful room, those
+      glorious roses out there, the cool, dark sweetness of this wonderful
+      house! I know you, Majesty, and, though you never wrote it, I believe you
+      have made a home out here. That's the most stunning surprise of all. Come,
+      confess. I know I've always been selfish and not much of a sister; but if
+      you are happy out here I am glad. You were not happy at home. Tell me
+      about yourself and about Alfred. Then I shall give you all the messages
+      and news from the East.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It afforded Madeline exceeding pleasure to have from one and all of her
+      guests varied encomiums of her beautiful home, and a real and warm
+      interest in what promised to be a delightful and memorable visit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of them all Castleton was the only one who failed to show surprise. He
+      greeted her precisely as he had when he had last seen her in London.
+      Madeline, rather to her astonishment, found meeting him again pleasurable.
+      She discovered she liked this imperturbable Englishman. Manifestly her
+      capacity for liking any one had immeasurably enlarged. Quite unexpectedly
+      her old girlish love for her younger sister sprang into life, and with it
+      interest in these half-forgotten friends, and a warm regard for Edith
+      Wayne, a chum of college days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen's party was smaller than Madeline had expected it to be. Helen had
+      been careful to select a company of good friends, all of whom were well
+      known to Madeline. Edith Wayne was a patrician brunette, a serious,
+      soft-voiced woman, sweet and kindly, despite a rather bitter experience
+      that had left her worldly wise. Mrs. Carrollton Beck, a plain, lively
+      person, had chaperoned the party. The fourth and last of the feminine
+      contingent was Miss Dorothy Coombs&mdash;Dot, as they called her&mdash;a
+      young woman of attractive blond prettiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a man Castleton was of very small stature. He had a pink-and-white
+      complexion, a small golden mustache, and his heavy eyelids, always
+      drooping, made him look dull. His attire, cut to what appeared to be an
+      exaggerated English style, attracted attention to his diminutive size. He
+      was immaculate and fastidious. Robert Weede was a rather large florid
+      young man, remarkable only for his good nature. Counting Boyd Harvey, a
+      handsome, pale-faced fellow, with the careless smile of the man for whom
+      life had been easy and pleasant, the party was complete.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dinner was a happy hour, especially for the Mexican women who served it
+      and who could not fail to note its success. The mingling of low voices and
+      laughter, the old, gay, superficial talk, the graciousness of a class
+      which lived for the pleasure of things and to make time pass pleasurably
+      for others&mdash;all took Madeline far back into the past. She did not
+      care to return to it, but she saw that it was well she had not wholly cut
+      herself off from her people and friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the party adjourned to the porch the heat had markedly decreased and
+      the red sun was sinking over the red desert. An absence of spoken praise,
+      a gradually deepening silence, attested to the impression on the visitors
+      of that noble sunset. Just as the last curve of red rim vanished beyond
+      the dim Sierra Madres and the golden lightning began to flare brighter
+      Helen broke the silence with an exclamation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wants only life. Ah, there's a horse climbing the hill! See, he's up!
+      He has a rider!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline knew before she looked the identity of the man riding up the
+      mesa. But she did not know until that moment how the habit of watching for
+      him at this hour had grown upon her. He rode along the rim of the mesa and
+      out to the point, where, against the golden background, horse and rider
+      stood silhouetted in bold relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's he doing there? Who is he?&rdquo; inquired the curious Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is Stewart, my right-hand man,&rdquo; replied Madeline. &ldquo;Every day when he
+      is at the ranch he rides up there at sunset. I think he likes the ride and
+      the scene; but he goes to take a look at the cattle in the valley.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he a cowboy?&rdquo; asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed yes!&rdquo; replied Madeline, with a little laugh. &ldquo;You will think so
+      when Stillwell gets hold of you and begins to talk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline found it necessary to explain who Stillwell was, and what he
+      thought of Stewart, and, while she was about it, of her own accord she
+      added a few details of Stewart's fame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;El Capitan. How interesting!&rdquo; mused Helen. &ldquo;What does he look like?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is superb.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence handed the field-glass to Helen and bade her look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thank you!&rdquo; said Helen, as she complied. &ldquo;There. I see him. Indeed,
+      he is superb. What a magnificent horse! How still he stands! Why, he seems
+      carved in stone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me look?&rdquo; said Dorothy Coombs, eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen gave her the glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can look, Dot, but that's all. He's mine. I saw him first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whereupon Madeline's feminine guests held a spirited contest over the
+      field-glass, and three of them made gay, bantering boasts not to consider
+      Helen's self-asserted rights. Madeline laughed with the others while she
+      watched the dark figure of Stewart and his black outline against the sky.
+      There came over her a thought not by any means new or strange&mdash;she
+      wondered what was in Stewart's mind as he stood there in the solitude and
+      faced the desert and the darkening west. Some day she meant to ask him.
+      Presently he turned the horse and rode down into the shadow creeping up
+      the mesa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty, have you planned any fun, any excitement for us?&rdquo; asked Helen.
+      She was restless, nervous, and did not seem to be able to sit still a
+      moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will think so when I get through with you,&rdquo; replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, for instance?&rdquo; inquired Helen and Dot and Mrs. Beck, in unison.
+      Edith Wayne smiled her interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I am not counting rides and climbs and golf; but these are
+      necessary to train you for trips over into Arizona. I want to show you the
+      desert and the Aravaipa Canyon. We have to go on horseback and pack our
+      outfit. If any of you are alive after those trips and want more we shall
+      go up into the mountains. I should like very much to know what you each
+      want particularly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell you,&rdquo; replied Helen, promptly. &ldquo;Dot will be the same out here
+      as she was in the East. She wants to look bashfully down at her hand&mdash;a
+      hand imprisoned in another, by the way&mdash;and listen to a man talk
+      poetry about her eyes. If cowboys don't make love that way Dot's visit
+      will be a failure. Now Elsie Beck wants solely to be revenged upon us for
+      dragging her out here. She wants some dreadful thing to happen to us. I
+      don't know what's in Edith's head, but it isn't fun. Bobby wants to be
+      near Elsie, and no more. Boyd wants what he has always wanted&mdash;the
+      only thing he ever wanted that he didn't get. Castleton has a horrible
+      bloodthirsty desire to kill something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I declare now, I want to ride and camp out, also,&rdquo; protested Castleton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As for myself,&rdquo; went on Helen, &ldquo;I want&mdash;Oh, if I only knew what it
+      is that I want! Well, I know I want to be outdoors, to get into the open,
+      to feel sun and wind, to burn some color into my white face. I want some
+      flesh and blood and life. I am tired out. Beyond all that I don't know
+      very well. I'll try to keep Dot from attaching all the cowboys to her
+      train.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a diversity of wants!&rdquo; said Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Above all, Majesty, we want something to happen,&rdquo; concluded Helen, with
+      passionate finality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear sister, maybe you will have your wish fulfilled,&rdquo; replied
+      Madeline, soberly. &ldquo;Edith, Helen has made me curious about your especial
+      yearning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty, it is only that I wanted to be with you for a while,&rdquo; replied
+      this old friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was in the wistful reply, accompanied by a dark and eloquent glance
+      of eyes, what told Madeline of Edith's understanding, of her sympathy, and
+      perhaps a betrayal of her own unquiet soul. It saddened Madeline. How many
+      women might there not be who had the longing to break down the bars of
+      their cage, but had not the spirit!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIII. Cowboy Golf
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      In the whirl of the succeeding days it was a mooted question whether
+      Madeline's guests or her cowboys or herself got the keenest enjoyment out
+      of the flying time. Considering the sameness of the cowboys' ordinary
+      life, she was inclined to think they made the most of the present.
+      Stillwell and Stewart, however, had found the situation trying. The work
+      of the ranch had to go on, and some of it got sadly neglected. Stillwell
+      could not resist the ladies any more than he could resist the fun in the
+      extraordinary goings-on of the cowboys. Stewart alone kept the business of
+      cattle-raising from a serious setback. Early and late he was in the
+      saddle, driving the lazy Mexicans whom he had hired to relieve the
+      cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One morning in June Madeline was sitting on the porch with her merry
+      friends when Stillwell appeared on the corral path. He had not come to
+      consult Madeline for several days&mdash;an omission so unusual as to be
+      remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here comes Bill&mdash;in trouble,&rdquo; laughed Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed, he bore some faint resemblance to a thundercloud as he approached
+      the porch; but the greetings he got from Madeline's party, especially from
+      Helen and Dorothy, chased away the blackness from his face and brought the
+      wonderful wrinkling smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, sure I'm a sad demoralized old cattleman,&rdquo; he said,
+      presently. &ldquo;An' I'm in need of a heap of help.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's wrong now?&rdquo; asked Madeline, with her encouraging smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, it's so amazin' strange what cowboys will do. I jest am about to
+      give up. Why, you might say my cowboys were all on strike for vacations.
+      What do you think of that? We've changed the shifts, shortened hours, let
+      one an' another off duty, hired Greasers, an', in fact, done everythin'
+      that could be thought of. But this vacation idee growed worse. When
+      Stewart set his foot down, then the boys begin to get sick. Never in my
+      born days as a cattleman have I heerd of so many diseases. An' you ought
+      to see how lame an' crippled an' weak many of the boys have got all of a
+      sudden. The idee of a cowboy comin' to me with a sore finger an' askin' to
+      be let off for a day! There's Booly. Now I've knowed a hoss to fall all
+      over him, an' onct he rolled down a canyon. Never bothered him at all.
+      He's got a blister on his heel, a ridin' blister, an' he says it's goin'
+      to blood-poisonin' if he doesn't rest. There's Jim Bell. He's developed
+      what he says is spinal mengalootis, or some such like. There's Frankie
+      Slade. He swore he had scarlet fever because his face burnt so red, I
+      guess, an' when I hollered that scarlet fever was contagious an' he must
+      be put away somewhere, he up an' says he guessed it wasn't that. But he
+      was sure awful sick an' needed to loaf around an' be amused. Why, even
+      Nels doesn't want to work these days. If it wasn't for Stewart, who's had
+      Greasers with the cattle, I don't know what I'd do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why all this sudden illness and idleness?&rdquo; asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, you see, the truth is every blamed cowboy on the range except
+      Stewart thinks it's his bounden duty to entertain the ladies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think that is just fine!&rdquo; exclaimed Dorothy Coombs; and she joined in
+      the general laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, then, doesn't care to help entertain us?&rdquo; inquired Helen, in
+      curious interest. &ldquo;Wal, Miss Helen, Stewart is sure different from the
+      other cowboys,&rdquo; replied Stillwell. &ldquo;Yet he used to be like them. There
+      never was a cowboy fuller of the devil than Gene. But he's changed. He's
+      foreman here, an' that must be it. All the responsibility rests on him. He
+      sure has no time for amusin' the ladies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I imagine that is our loss,&rdquo; said Edith Wayne, in her earnest way. &ldquo;I
+      admire him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stillwell, you need not be so distressed with what is only gallantry in
+      the boys, even if it does make a temporary confusion in the work,&rdquo; said
+      Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, all I said is not the half, nor the quarter, nor nuthin' of
+      what's troublin' me,&rdquo; answered he, sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well; unburden yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, the cowboys, exceptin' Gene, have gone plumb batty, jest plain crazy
+      over this heah game of gol-lof.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A merry peal of mirth greeted Stillwell's solemn assertion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Stillwell, you are in fun,&rdquo; replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope to die if I'm not in daid earnest,&rdquo; declared the cattleman. &ldquo;It's
+      an amazin' strange fact. Ask Flo. She'll tell you. She knows cowboys, an'
+      how if they ever start on somethin' they ride it as they ride a hoss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence being appealed to, and evidently feeling all eyes upon her,
+      modestly replied that Stillwell had scarcely misstated the situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cowboys play like they work or fight,&rdquo; she added. &ldquo;They give their whole
+      souls to it. They are great big simple boys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed they are,&rdquo; said Madeline. &ldquo;Oh, I'm glad if they like the game of
+      golf. They have so little play.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, somethin's got to be did if we're to go on raisin' cattle at Her
+      Majesty's Rancho,&rdquo; replied Stillwell. He appeared both deliberate and
+      resigned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline remembered that despite Stillwell's simplicity he was as deep as
+      any of his cowboys, and there was absolutely no gaging him where
+      possibilities of fun were concerned. Madeline fancied that his exaggerated
+      talk about the cowboys' sudden craze for golf was in line with certain
+      other remarkable tales that had lately emanated from him. Some very
+      strange things had occurred of late, and it was impossible to tell whether
+      or not they were accidents, mere coincidents, or deep-laid, skilfully
+      worked-out designs of the fun-loving cowboys. Certainly there had been
+      great fun, and at the expense of her guests, particularly Castleton. So
+      Madeline was at a loss to know what to think about Stillwell's latest
+      elaboration. From mere force of habit she sympathized with him and found
+      difficulty in doubting his apparent sincerity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To go back a ways,&rdquo; went on Stillwell, as Madeline looked up expectantly,
+      &ldquo;you recollect what pride the boys took in fixin' up that gol-lof course
+      out on the mesa? Wal, they worked on that job, an' though I never seen any
+      other course, I'll gamble yours can't be beat. The boys was sure curious
+      about that game. You recollect also how they all wanted to see you an'
+      your brother play, an' be caddies for you? Wal, whenever you'd quit they'd
+      go to work tryin' to play the game. Monty Price, he was the leadin'
+      spirit. Old as I am, Miss Majesty, an' used as I am to cowboy
+      excentrikities, I nearly dropped daid when I heered that little
+      hobble-footed, burned-up Montana cow-puncher say there wasn't any game too
+      swell for him, an' gol-lof was just his speed. Serious as a preacher, mind
+      you, he was. An' he was always practisin'. When Stewart gave him charge of
+      the course an' the club-house an' all them funny sticks, why, Monty was
+      tickled to death. You see, Monty is sensitive that he ain't much good any
+      more for cowboy work. He was glad to have a job that he didn't feel he was
+      hangin' to by kindness. Wal, he practised the game, an' he read the books
+      in the club-house, an' he got the boys to doin' the same. That wasn't very
+      hard, I reckon. They played early an' late an' in the moonlight. For a
+      while Monty was coach, an' the boys stood it. But pretty soon Frankie
+      Slade got puffed on his game, an' he had to have it out with Monty. Wal,
+      Monty beat him bad. Then one after another the other boys tackled Monty.
+      He beat them all. After that they split up an' begin to play matches, two
+      on a side. For a spell this worked fine. But cowboys can't never be
+      satisfied long onless they win all the time. Monty an' Link Stevens, both
+      cripples, you might say, joined forces an' elected to beat all comers.
+      Wal, they did, an' that's the trouble. Long an' patient the other cowboys
+      tried to beat them two game legs, an' hevn't done it. Mebbe if Monty an'
+      Link was perfectly sound in their legs like the other cowboys there
+      wouldn't hev been such a holler. But no sound cowboys'll ever stand for a
+      disgrace like that. Why, down at the bunks in the evenin's it's some
+      mortifyin' the way Monty an' Link crow over the rest of the outfit.
+      They've taken on superior airs. You couldn't reach up to Monty with a
+      trimmed spruce pole. An' Link&mdash;wal, he's just amazin' scornful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'It's a swell game, ain't it?' says Link, powerful sarcastic. 'Wal,
+      what's hurtin' you low-down common cowmen? You keep harpin' on Monty's
+      game leg an' on my game leg. If we hed good legs we'd beat you all the
+      wuss. It's brains that wins in gol-lof. Brains an' airstoocratik blood,
+      which of the same you fellers sure hev little.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' then Monty he blows smoke powerful careless an' superior, an' he
+      says:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Sure it's a swell game. You cow-headed gents think beef an' brawn ought
+      to hev the call over skill an' gray matter. You'll all hev to back up an'
+      get down. Go out an' learn the game. You don't know a baffy from a Chinee
+      sandwich. All you can do is waggle with a club an' fozzle the ball.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whenever Monty gets to usin' them queer names the boys go round kind of
+      dotty. Monty an' Link hev got the books an' directions of the game, an'
+      they won't let the other boys see them. They show the rules, but that's
+      all. An', of course, every game ends in a row almost before it's started.
+      The boys are all turrible in earnest about this gol-lof. An' I want to
+      say, for the good of ranchin', not to mention a possible fight, that Monty
+      an' Link hev got to be beat. There'll be no peace round this ranch till
+      that's done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's guests were much amused. As for herself, in spite of her
+      scarcely considered doubt, Stillwell's tale of woe occasioned her anxiety.
+      However, she could hardly control her mirth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What in the world can I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I reckon I couldn't say. I only come to you for advice. It seems
+      that a queer kind of game has locoed my cowboys, an' for the time bein'
+      ranchin' is at a standstill. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but cowboys are as
+      strange as wild cattle. All I'm sure of is that the conceit has got to be
+      taken out of Monty an' Link. Onct, just onct, will square it, an' then we
+      can resoome our work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stillwell, listen,&rdquo; said Madeline, brightly. &ldquo;We'll arrange a match game,
+      a foursome, between Monty and Link and your best picked team. Castleton,
+      who is an expert golfer, will umpire. My sister, and friends, and I will
+      take turns as caddies for your team. That will be fair, considering yours
+      is the weaker. Caddies may coach, and perhaps expert advice is all that is
+      necessary for your team to defeat Monty's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A grand idee,&rdquo; declared Stillwell, with instant decision. &ldquo;When can we
+      have this match game?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, to-day&mdash;this afternoon. We'll all ride out to the links.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I reckon I'll be some indebted to you, Miss Majesty, an' all your
+      guests,&rdquo; replied Stillwell, warmly. He rose with sombrero in hand, and a
+      twinkle in his eye that again prompted Madeline to wonder. &ldquo;An' now I'll
+      be goin' to fix up for the game of cowboy gol-lof. Adios.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The idea was as enthusiastically received by Madeline's guests as it had
+      been by Stillwell. They were highly amused and speculative to the point of
+      taking sides and making wagers on their choice. Moreover, this situation
+      so frankly revealed by Stillwell had completed their deep mystification.
+      They were now absolutely nonplussed by the singular character of American
+      cowboys. Madeline was pleased to note how seriously they had taken the old
+      cattleman's story. She had a little throb of wild expectancy that made her
+      both fear and delight in the afternoon's prospect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The June days had set in warm; in fact, hot during the noon hours: and
+      this had inculcated in her insatiable visitors a tendency to profit by the
+      experience of those used to the Southwest. They indulged in the restful
+      siesta during the heated term of the day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was awakened by Majesty's well-known whistle and pounding on the
+      gravel. Then she heard the other horses. When she went out she found her
+      party assembled in gala golf attire, and with spirits to match their
+      costumes. Castleton, especially, appeared resplendent in a golf coat that
+      beggared description. Madeline had faint misgivings when she reflected on
+      what Monty and Nels and Nick might do under the influence of that blazing
+      garment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh. Majesty,&rdquo; cried Helen, as Madeline went up to her horse, &ldquo;don't make
+      him kneel! Try that flying mount. We all want to see it. It's so
+      stunning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that way, too, I must have him kneel,&rdquo; said Madeline, &ldquo;or I can't
+      reach the stirrup. He's so tremendously high.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had to yield to the laughing insistence of her friends, and after
+      all of them except Florence were up she made Majesty go down on one knee.
+      Then she stood on his left side, facing back, and took a good firm grip on
+      the bridle and pommel and his mane. After she had slipped the toe of her
+      boot firmly into the stirrup she called to Majesty. He jumped and swung
+      her up into the saddle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now just to see how it ought to be done watch Florence,&rdquo; said Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Western girl was at her best in riding-habit and with her horse. It
+      was beautiful to see the ease and grace with which she accomplished the
+      cowboys' flying mount. Then she led the party down the slope and across
+      the flat to climb the mesa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline never saw a group of her cowboys without looking them over,
+      almost unconsciously, for her foreman, Gene Stewart. This afternoon, as
+      usual, he was not present. However, she now had a sense&mdash;of which she
+      was wholly conscious&mdash;that she was both disappointed and irritated.
+      He had really not been attentive to her guests, and he, of all her
+      cowboys, was the one of whom they wanted most to see something. Helen,
+      particularly, had asked to have him attend the match. But Stewart was with
+      the cattle. Madeline thought of his faithfulness, and was ashamed of her
+      momentary lapse into that old imperious habit of desiring things
+      irrespective of reason.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart, however, immediately slipped out of her mind as she surveyed the
+      group of cowboys on the links. By actual count there were sixteen, not
+      including Stillwell. And the same number of splendid horses, all shiny and
+      clean, grazed on the rim in the care of Mexican lads. The cowboys were on
+      dress-parade, looking very different in Madeline's eyes, at least, from
+      the way cowboys usually appeared. But they were real and natural to her
+      guests; and they were so picturesque that they might have been stage
+      cowboys instead of real ones. Sombreros with silver buckles and horsehair
+      bands were in evidence; and bright silk scarfs, embroidered vests, fringed
+      and ornamented chaps, huge swinging guns, and clinking silver spurs lent a
+      festive appearance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline and her party were at once eagerly surrounded by the cowboys, and
+      she found it difficult to repress a smile. If these cowboys were still
+      remarkable to her, what must they be to her guests?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, you-all raced over, I seen,&rdquo; said Stillwell, taking Madeline's
+      bridle. &ldquo;Get down&mdash;get down. We're sure amazin' glad an' proud. An',
+      Miss Majesty, I'm offerin' to beg pawdin for the way the boys are packin'
+      guns. Mebbe it ain't polite. But it's Stewart's orders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart's orders!&rdquo; echoed Madeline. Her friends were suddenly silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon he won't take no chances on the boys bein' surprised sudden by
+      raiders. An' there's raiders operatin' in from the Guadalupes. That's all.
+      Nothin' to worry over. I was just explainin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, with several of her party, expressed relief, but Helen showed
+      excitement and then disappointment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I want something to happen!&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sixteen pairs of keen cowboy eyes fastened intently upon her pretty,
+      petulant face; and Madeline divined, if Helen did not, that the desired
+      consummation was not far off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I,&rdquo; said Dot Coombs. &ldquo;It would be perfectly lovely to have a real
+      adventure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gaze of the sixteen cowboys shifted and sought the demure face of this
+      other discontented girl. Madeline laughed, and Stillwell wore his strange,
+      moving smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I reckon you ladies sure won't have to go home unhappy,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;Why, as boss of this heah outfit I'd feel myself disgraced forever if you
+      didn't have your wish. Just wait. An' now, ladies, the matter on hand may
+      not be amusin' or excitin' to you; but to this heah cowboy outfit it's
+      powerful important. An' all the help you can give us will sure be
+      thankfully received. Take a look across the links. Do you-all see them two
+      apologies for human bein's prancin' like a couple of hobbled broncs? Wal,
+      you're gazin' at Monty Price an' Link Stevens, who have of a sudden got
+      too swell to associate with their old bunkies. They're practisin' for the
+      toornament. They don't want my boys to see how they handle them crooked
+      clubs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you picked your team?&rdquo; inquired Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell mopped his red face with an immense bandana, and showed
+      something of confusion and perplexity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've sixteen boys, an' they all want to play,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Pickin' the
+      team ain't goin' to be an easy job. Mebbe it won't be healthy, either.
+      There's Nels and Nick. They just stated cheerful-like that if they didn't
+      play we won't have any game at all. Nick never tried before, an' Nels, all
+      he wants is to get a crack at Monty with one of them crooked clubs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suggest you let all your boys drive from the tee and choose the two who
+      drive the farthest,&rdquo; said Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell's perplexed face lighted up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, that's a plumb good idee. The boys'll stand for that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Wherewith he broke up the admiring circle of cowboys round the ladies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grap a rope&mdash;I mean a club&mdash;all you cow-punchers, an' march
+      over hyar an' take a swipe at this little white bean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboys obeyed with alacrity. There was considerable difficulty over
+      the choice of clubs and who should try first. The latter question had to
+      be adjusted by lot. However, after Frankie Slade made several ineffectual
+      attempts to hit the ball from the teeing-ground, at last to send it only a
+      few yards, the other players were not so eager to follow. Stillwell had to
+      push Booly forward, and Booly executed a most miserable shot and retired
+      to the laughing comments of his comrades. The efforts of several
+      succeeding cowboys attested to the extreme difficulty of making a good
+      drive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Nick, it's your turn,&rdquo; said Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, I ain't so all-fired particular about playin',&rdquo; replied Nick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? You was roarin' about it a little while ago. Afraid to show how bad
+      you'll play?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nope, jest plain consideration for my feller cow-punchers,&rdquo; answered
+      Nick, with spirit. &ldquo;I'm appreciatin' how bad they play, an' I'm not mean
+      enough to show them up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, you've got to show me,&rdquo; said Stillwell. &ldquo;I know you never seen a
+      gol-lof stick in your life. What's more, I'll bet you can't hit that
+      little ball square&mdash;not in a dozen cracks at it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, I'm also too much of a gent to take your money. But you know I'm
+      from Missouri. Gimme a club.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nick's angry confidence seemed to evaporate as one after another he took
+      up and handled the clubs. It was plain that he had never before wielded
+      one. But, also, it was plain that he was not the kind of a man to give in.
+      Finally he selected a driver, looked doubtfully at the small knob, and
+      then stepped into position on the teeing-ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nick Steele stood six feet four inches in height. He had the rider's wiry
+      slenderness, yet he was broad of shoulder. His arms were long. Manifestly
+      he was an exceedingly powerful man. He swung the driver aloft and whirled
+      it down with a tremendous swing. Crack! The white ball disappeared, and
+      from where it had been rose a tiny cloud of dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's quick sight caught the ball as it lined somewhat to the right.
+      It was shooting low and level with the speed of a bullet. It went up and
+      up in swift, beautiful flight, then lost its speed and began to sail, to
+      curve, to drop; and it fell out of sight beyond the rim of the mesa.
+      Madeline had never seen a drive that approached this one. It was
+      magnificent, beyond belief except for actual evidence of her own eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The yelling of the cowboys probably brought Nick Steele out of the
+      astounding spell with which he beheld his shot. Then Nick, suddenly alive
+      to the situation, recovered from his trance and, resting nonchalantly upon
+      his club, he surveyed Stillwell and the boys. After their first surprised
+      outburst they were dumb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You-all seen thet?&rdquo; Nick grandly waved his hand. &ldquo;Thaught I was joshin',
+      didn't you? Why, I used to go to St. Louis an' Kansas City to play this
+      here game. There was some talk of the golf clubs takin' me down East to
+      play the champions. But I never cared fer the game. Too easy fer me! Them
+      fellers back in Missouri were a lot of cheap dubs, anyhow, always kickin'
+      because whenever I hit a ball hard I always lost it. Why, I hed to hit
+      sort of left-handed to let 'em stay in my class. Now you-all can go ahead
+      an' play Monty an' Link. I could beat 'em both, playin' with one hand, if
+      I wanted to. But I ain't interested. I jest hit thet ball off the mesa to
+      show you. I sure wouldn't be seen playin' on your team.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that Nick sauntered away toward the horses. Stillwell appeared
+      crushed. And not a scornful word was hurled after Nick, which fact proved
+      the nature of his victory. Then Nels strode into the limelight. As far as
+      it was possible for this iron-faced cowboy to be so, he was bland and
+      suave. He remarked to Stillwell and the other cowboys that sometimes it
+      was painful for them to judge of the gifts of superior cowboys such as
+      belonged to Nick and himself. He picked up the club Nick had used and
+      called for a new ball. Stillwell carefully built up a little mound of sand
+      and, placing the ball upon it, squared away to watch. He looked grim and
+      expectant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels was not so large a man as Nick, and did not look so formidable as he
+      waved his club at the gaping cowboys. Still he was lithe, tough, strong.
+      Briskly, with a debonair manner, he stepped up and then delivered a mighty
+      swing at the ball. He missed. The power and momentum of his swing flung
+      him off his feet, and he actually turned upside down and spun round on his
+      head. The cowboys howled. Stillwell's stentorian laugh rolled across the
+      mesa. Madeline and her guests found it impossible to restrain their mirth.
+      And when Nels got up he cast a reproachful glance at Madeline. His
+      feelings were hurt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His second attempt, not by any means so violent, resulted in as clean a
+      miss as the first, and brought jeers from the cowboys. Nels's red face
+      flamed redder. Angrily he swung again. The mound of sand spread over the
+      teeing-ground and the exasperating little ball rolled a few inches. This
+      time he had to build up the sand mound and replace the ball himself.
+      Stillwell stood scornfully by, and the boys addressed remarks to Nels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take off them blinders,&rdquo; said one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, your eyes are shore bad,&rdquo; said another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't hit where you look.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, your left eye has sprung a limp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you dog-goned old fule, you cain't hit thet bawl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels essayed again, only to meet ignominious failure. Then carefully he
+      gathered himself together, gaged distance, balanced the club, swung
+      cautiously. And the head of the club made a beautiful curve round the
+      ball.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shore it's jest thet crooked club,&rdquo; he declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He changed clubs and made another signal failure. Rage suddenly possessing
+      him, he began to swing wildly. Always, it appeared, the illusive little
+      ball was not where he aimed. Stillwell hunched his huge bulk, leaned hands
+      on knees, and roared his riotous mirth. The cowboys leaped up and down in
+      glee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You cain't hit thet bawl,&rdquo; sang out one of the noisiest. A few more
+      whirling, desperate lunges on the part of Nels, all as futile as if the
+      ball had been thin air, finally brought to the dogged cowboy a realization
+      that golf was beyond him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell bawled: &ldquo;Oh, haw, haw, haw! Nels, you're&mdash;too old&mdash;eyes
+      no good!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels slammed down the club, and when he straightened up with the red
+      leaving his face, then the real pride and fire of the man showed.
+      Deliberately he stepped off ten paces and turned toward the little mound
+      upon which rested the ball. His arm shot down, elbow crooked, hand like a
+      claw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aw, Nels, this is fun!&rdquo; yelled Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But swift as a gleam of light Nels flashed his gun, and the report came
+      with the action. Chips flew from the golf-ball as it tumbled from the
+      mound. Nels had hit it without raising the dust. Then he dropped the gun
+      back in its sheath and faced the cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mebbe my eyes ain't so orful bad,&rdquo; he said, coolly, and started to walk
+      off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But look ah-heah, Nels,&rdquo; yelled Stillwell, &ldquo;we come out to play gol-lof!
+      We can't let you knock the ball around with your gun. What'd you want to
+      get mad for? It's only fun. Now you an' Nick hang round heah an' be
+      sociable. We ain't depreciatin' your company none, nor your usefulness on
+      occasions. An' if you just hain't got inborn politeness sufficient to do
+      the gallant before the ladies, why, remember Stewart's orders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart's orders?&rdquo; queried Nels, coming to a sudden halt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what I said,&rdquo; replied Stillwell, with asperity. &ldquo;His orders. Are
+      you forgettin' orders? Wal, you're a fine cowboy. You an' Nick an' Monty,
+      'specially, are to obey orders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels took off his sombrero and scratched his head. &ldquo;Bill, I reckon I'm
+      some forgetful. But I was mad. I'd 'a' remembered pretty soon, an' mebbe
+      my manners.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure you would,&rdquo; replied Stillwell. &ldquo;Wal, now, we don't seem to be
+      proceedin' much with my gol-lof team. Next ambitious player step up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In Ambrose, who showed some skill in driving, Stillwell found one of his
+      team. The succeeding players, however, were so poor and so evenly matched
+      that the earnest Stillwell was in despair. He lost his temper just as
+      speedily as Nels had. Finally Ed Linton's wife appeared riding up with
+      Ambrose's wife, and perhaps this helped, for Ed suddenly disclosed ability
+      that made Stillwell single him out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me coach you a little,&rdquo; said Bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure, if you like,&rdquo; replied Ed. &ldquo;But I know more about this game than you
+      do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, then, let's see you hit a ball straight. Seems to me you got good
+      all-fired quick. It's amazin' strange.&rdquo; ere Bill looked around to discover
+      the two young wives modestly casting eyes of admiration upon their
+      husbands. &ldquo;Haw, haw! It ain't so darned strange. Mebbe that'll help some.
+      Now, Ed, stand up and don't sling your club as if you was ropin' a steer.
+      Come round easy-like an' hit straight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ed made several attempts which, although better than those of his
+      predecessors, were rather discouraging to the exacting coach. Presently,
+      after a particularly atrocious shot, Stillwell strode in distress here and
+      there, and finally stopped a dozen paces or more in front of the
+      teeing-ground. Ed, who for a cowboy was somewhat phlegmatic, calmly made
+      ready for another attempt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fore!&rdquo; he called.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell stared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fore!&rdquo; yelled Ed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why're you hollerin' that way at me?&rdquo; demanded Bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean for you to lope off the horizon. Get back from in front.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that was one of them durned crazy words Monty is always hollerin'.
+      Wal, I reckon I'm safe enough hyar. You couldn't hit me in a million
+      years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, ooze away,&rdquo; urged Ed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't I say you couldn't hit me? What am I coachin' you for? It's
+      because you hit crooked, ain't it? Wal, go ahaid an' break your back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ed Linton was a short, heavy man, and his stocky build gave evidence of
+      considerable strength. His former strokes had not been made at the expense
+      of exertion, but now he got ready for a supreme effort. A sudden silence
+      clamped down upon the exuberant cowboys. It was one of those fateful
+      moments when the air was charged with disaster. As Ed swung the club it
+      fairly whistled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Crack! Instantly came a thump. But no one saw the ball until it dropped
+      from Stillwell's shrinking body. His big hands went spasmodically to the
+      place that hurt, and a terrible groan rumbled from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the cowboys broke into a frenzy of mirth that seemed to find adequate
+      expression only in dancing and rolling accompaniment to their howls.
+      Stillwell recovered his dignity as soon as he caught his breath, and he
+      advanced with a rueful face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, boys, it's on Bill,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I'm a livin' proof of the
+      pig-headedness of mankind. Ed, you win. You're captain of the team. You
+      hit straight, an' if I hadn't been obstructin' the general atmosphere that
+      ball would sure have gone clear to the Chiricahuas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then making a megaphone of his huge hands, he yelled a loud blast of
+      defiance at Monty and Link.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hey, you swell gol-lofers! We're waitin'. Come on if you ain't scared.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Instantly Monty and Link quit practising, and like two emperors came
+      stalking across the links.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Guess my bluff didn't work much,&rdquo; said Stillwell. Then he turned to
+      Madeline and her friends. &ldquo;Sure I hope, Miss Majesty, that you-all won't
+      weaken an' go over to the enemy. Monty is some eloquent, an', besides, he
+      has a way of gettin' people to agree with him. He'll be plumb wild when he
+      heahs what he an' Link are up against. But it's a square deal, because he
+      wouldn't help us or lend the book that shows how to play. An', besides,
+      it's policy for us to beat him. Now, if you'll elect who's to be caddies
+      an' umpire I'll be powerful obliged.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's friends were hugely amused over the prospective match; but,
+      except for Dorothy and Castleton, they disclaimed any ambition for active
+      participation. Accordingly, Madeline appointed Castleton to judge the
+      play, Dorothy to act as caddie for Ed Linton, and she herself to be caddie
+      for Ambrose. While Stillwell beamingly announced this momentous news to
+      his team and supporters Monty and Link were striding up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both were diminutive in size, bow-legged, lame in one foot, and altogether
+      unprepossessing. Link was young, and Monty's years, more than twice
+      Link's, had left their mark. But it would have been impossible to tell
+      Monty's age. As Stillwell said, Monty was burned to the color and hardness
+      of a cinder. He never minded the heat, and always wore heavy sheepskin
+      chaps with the wool outside. This made him look broader than he was long.
+      Link, partial to leather, had, since he became Madeline's chauffeur, taken
+      to leather altogether. He carried no weapon, but Monty wore a huge
+      gun-sheath and gun. Link smoked a cigarette and looked coolly impudent.
+      Monty was dark-faced, swaggering, for all the world like a barbarian
+      chief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That Monty makes my flesh creep,&rdquo; said Helen, low-voiced. &ldquo;Really, Mr.
+      Stillwell, is he so bad&mdash;desperate&mdash;as I've heard? Did he ever
+      kill anybody?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure. 'Most as many as Nels,&rdquo; replied Stillwell, cheerfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! And is that nice Mr. Nels a desperado, too? I wouldn't have thought
+      so. He's so kind and old-fashioned and soft-voiced.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels is sure an example of the dooplicity of men, Miss Helen. Don't you
+      listen to his soft voice. He's really as bad as a side-winder
+      rattlesnake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this juncture Monty and Link reached the teeing-ground, and Stillwell
+      went out to meet them. The other cowboys pressed forward to surround the
+      trio. Madeline heard Stillwell's voice, and evidently he was explaining
+      that his team was to have skilled advice during the play. Suddenly there
+      came from the center of the group a loud, angry roar that broke off as
+      suddenly. Then followed excited voices all mingled together. Presently
+      Monty appeared, breaking away from restraining hands, and he strode toward
+      Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty Price was a type of cowboy who had never been known to speak to a
+      woman unless he was first addressed, and then he answered in blunt,
+      awkward shyness. Upon this great occasion, however, it appeared that he
+      meant to protest or plead with Madeline, for he showed stress of emotion.
+      Madeline had never gotten acquainted with Monty. She was a little in awe,
+      if not in fear, of him, and now she found it imperative for her to keep in
+      mind that more than any other of the wild fellows on her ranch this one
+      should be dealt with as if he were a big boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty removed his sombrero&mdash;something he had never done before&mdash;and
+      the single instant when it was off was long enough to show his head
+      entirely bald. This was one of the hall-marks of that terrible Montana
+      prairie fire through which he had fought to save the life of a child.
+      Madeline did not forget it, and all at once she wanted to take Monty's
+      side. Remembering Stillwell's wisdom, however, she forebore yielding to
+      sentiment, and called upon her wits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss&mdash;Miss Hammond,&rdquo; began Monty, stammering, &ldquo;I'm extendin'
+      admirin' greetin's to you an' your friends. Link an' me are right down
+      proud to play the match game with you watchin'. But Bill says you're goin'
+      to caddie for his team an' coach 'em on the fine points. An' I want to
+      ask, all respectful, if thet's fair an' square?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monty, that is for you to say,&rdquo; replied Madeline. &ldquo;It was my suggestion.
+      But if you object in the least, of course we shall withdraw. It seems fair
+      to me, because you have learned the game; you are expert, and I understand
+      the other boys have no chance with you. Then you have coached Link. I
+      think it would be sportsmanlike of you to accept the handicap.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aw, a handicap! Thet was what Bill was drivin' at. Why didn't he say so?
+      Every time Bill comes to a word thet's pie to us old golfers he jest
+      stumbles. Miss Majesty, you've made it all clear as print. An' I may say
+      with becomin' modesty thet you wasn't mistaken none about me bein'
+      sportsmanlike. Me an' Link was born thet way. An' we accept the handicap.
+      Lackin' thet handicap, I reckon Link an' me would have no ambish to play
+      our most be-ootiful game. An' thankin' you, Miss Majesty, an' all your
+      friends, I want to add thet if Bill's outfit couldn't beat us before,
+      they've got a swell chanct now, with you ladies a-watchin' me an' Link.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty had seemed to expand with pride as he delivered this speech, and at
+      the end he bowed low and turned away. He joined the group round Stillwell.
+      Once more there was animated discussion and argument and expostulation.
+      One of the cowboys came for Castleton and led him away to exploit upon
+      ground rules.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to Madeline that the game never would begin. She strolled on the
+      rim of the mesa, arm in arm with Edith Wayne, and while Edith talked she
+      looked out over the gray valley leading to the rugged black mountains and
+      the vast red wastes. In the foreground on the gray slope she saw cattle in
+      movement and cowboys riding to and fro. She thought of Stewart. Then Boyd
+      Harvey came for them, saying all details had been arranged. Stillwell met
+      them half-way, and this cool, dry, old cattleman, whose face and manner
+      scarcely changed at the announcement of a cattle-raid, now showed extreme
+      agitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Miss Majesty, we've gone an' made a foozle right at the start,&rdquo; he
+      said, dejectedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A foozle? But the game has not yet begun,&rdquo; replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A bad start, I mean. It's amazin' bad, an' we're licked already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What in the world is wrong?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She wanted to laugh, but Stillwell's distress restrained her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, it's this way. That darn Monty is as cute an' slick as a fox. After
+      he got done declaimin' about the handicap he an' Link was so happy to
+      take, he got Castleton over hyar an' drove us all dotty with his crazy
+      gol-lof names. Then he borrowed Castleton's gol-lof coat. I reckon
+      borrowed is some kind word. He just about took that blazin' coat off the
+      Englishman. Though I ain't sayin' but that Casleton was agreeable when he
+      tumbled to Monty's meanin'. Which was nothin' more 'n to break Ambrose's
+      heart. That coat dazzles Ambrose. You know how vain Ambrose is. Why, he'd
+      die to get to wear that Englishman's gol-lof coat. An' Monty forestalled
+      him. It's plumb pitiful to see the look in Ambrose's eyes. He won't be
+      able to play much. Then what do you think? Monty fixed Ed Linton, all
+      right. Usually Ed is easy-goin' an' cool. But now he's on the rampage.
+      Wal, mebbe it's news to you to learn that Ed's wife is powerful, turrible
+      jealous of him. Ed was somethin' of a devil with the wimmen. Monty goes
+      over an' tells Beulah&mdash;that's Ed's wife&mdash;that Ed is goin' to
+      have for caddie the lovely Miss Dorothy with the goo-goo eyes. I reckon
+      this was some disrespectful, but with all doo respect to Miss Dorothy she
+      has got a pair of unbridled eyes. Mebbe it's just natural for her to look
+      at a feller like that. Oh, it's all right; I'm not sayin' any-thin'! I
+      know it's all proper an' regular for girls back East to use their eyes.
+      But out hyar it's bound to result disastrous. All the boys talk about
+      among themselves is Miss Dot's eyes, an' all they brag about is which
+      feller is the luckiest. Anyway, sure Ed's wife knows it. An' Monty up an'
+      told her that it was fine for her to come out an' see how swell Ed was
+      prancin' round under the light of Miss Dot's brown eyes. Beulah calls over
+      Ed, figgertively speakin', ropes him for a minnit. Ed comes back huggin' a
+      grouch as big as a hill. Oh, it was funny! He was goin' to punch Monty's
+      haid off. An' Monty stands there an' laughs. Says Monty, sarcastic as
+      alkali water: 'Ed, we-all knowed you was a heap married man, but you're
+      some locoed to give yourself away.' That settled Ed. He's some touchy
+      about the way Beulah henpecks him. He lost his spirit. An' now he couldn't
+      play marbles, let alone gol-lof. Nope, Monty was too smart. An' I reckon
+      he was right about brains bein' what wins.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The game began. At first Madeline and Dorothy essayed to direct the
+      endeavors of their respective players. But all they said and did only made
+      their team play the worse. At the third hole they were far behind and
+      hopelessly bewildered. What with Monty's borrowed coat, with its dazzling
+      effect upon Ambrose, and Link's oft-repeated allusion to Ed's matrimonial
+      state, and Stillwell's vociferated disgust, and the clamoring good
+      intention and pursuit of the cowboy supporters, and the embarrassing
+      presence of the ladies, Ambrose and Ed wore through all manner of strange
+      play until it became ridiculous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hey, Link,&rdquo; came Monty's voice booming over the links, &ldquo;our esteemed
+      rivals are playin' shinny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline and Dorothy gave up, presently, when the game became a rout, and
+      they sat down with their followers to watch the fun. Whether by hook or
+      crook, Ed and Ambrose forged ahead to come close upon Monty and Link.
+      Castleton disappeared in a mass of gesticulating, shouting cowboys. When
+      that compact mass disintegrated Castleton came forth rather hurriedly, it
+      appeared, to stalk back toward his hostess and friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; exclaimed Helen, in delight. &ldquo;Castleton is actually excited.
+      Whatever did they do to him? Oh, this is immense!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Castleton was excited, indeed, and also somewhat disheveled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Jove! that was a rum go,&rdquo; he said, as he came up. &ldquo;Never saw such
+      blooming golf! I resigned my office as umpire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Only upon considerable pressure did he reveal the reason. &ldquo;It was like
+      this, don't you know. They were all together over there, watching each
+      other. Monty Price's ball dropped into a hazard, and he moved it to
+      improve the lie. By Jove! they've all been doing that. But over there the
+      game was waxing hot. Stillwell and his cowboys saw Monty move the ball,
+      and there was a row. They appealed to me. I corrected the play, showed the
+      rules. Monty agreed he was in the wrong. However, when it came to moving
+      his ball back to its former lie in the hazard there was more blooming
+      trouble. Monty placed the ball to suit him, and then he transfixed me with
+      an evil eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Dook,' he said. I wish the bloody cowboy would not call me that. 'Dook,
+      mebbe this game ain't as important as international politics or some other
+      things relatin', but there's some health an' peace dependin' on it. Savvy?
+      For some space our opponents have been dead to honor an' sportsmanlike
+      conduct. I calculate the game depends on my next drive. I'm placin' my
+      ball as near to where it was as human eyesight could. You seen where it
+      was same as I seen it. You're the umpire, an', Dook, I take you as a
+      honorable man. Moreover, never in my born days has my word been doubted
+      without sorrow. So I'm askin' you, wasn't my ball layin' just about here?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The bloody little desperado smiled cheerfully, and he dropped his right
+      hand down to the butt of his gun. By Jove, he did! Then I had to tell a
+      blooming lie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Castleton even caught the tone of Monty's voice, but it was plain that he
+      had not the least conception that Monty had been fooling. Madeline and her
+      friends divined it, however; and, there being no need of reserve, they let
+      loose the fountains of mirth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIV. Bandits
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When Madeline and her party recovered composure they sat up to watch the
+      finish of the match. It came with spectacular suddenness. A sharp yell
+      pealed out, and all the cowboys turned attentively in its direction. A big
+      black horse had surmounted the rim of the mesa and was just breaking into
+      a run. His rider yelled sharply to the cowboys. They wheeled to dash
+      toward their grazing horses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's Stewart. There is something wrong,&rdquo; said Madeline, in alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Castleton stared. The other men exclaimed uneasily. The women sought
+      Madeline's face with anxious eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The black got into his stride and bore swiftly down upon them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, look at that horse run!&rdquo; cried Helen. &ldquo;Look at that fellow ride!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was not alone in her admiration, for Madeline divided her emotions
+      between growing alarm of some danger menacing and a thrill and quickening
+      of pulse-beat that tingled over her whenever she saw Stewart in violent
+      action. No action of his was any longer insignificant, but violent action
+      meant so much. It might mean anything. For one moment she remembered
+      Stillwell and all his talk about fun, and plots, and tricks to amuse her
+      guest. Then she discountenanced the thought. Stewart might lend himself to
+      a little fun, but he cared too much for a horse to run him at that speed
+      unless there was imperious need. That alone sufficed to answer Madeline's
+      questioning curiosity. And her alarm mounted to fear not so much for
+      herself as for her guests. But what danger could there be? She could think
+      of nothing except the guerrillas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whatever threatened, it would be met and checked by this man Stewart, who
+      was thundering up on his fleet horse; and as he neared her, so that she
+      could see the dark gleam of face and eyes, she had a strange feeling of
+      trust in her dependence upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The big black was so close to Madeline and her friends that when Stewart
+      pulled him the dust and sand kicked up by his pounding hoofs flew in their
+      faces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Stewart, what is it?&rdquo; cried Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Guess I scared you, Miss Hammond,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;But I'm pressed for time.
+      There's a gang of bandits hiding on the ranch, most likely in a deserted
+      hut. They held up a train near Agua Prieta. Pat Hawe is with the posse
+      that's trailing them, and you know Pat has no use for us. I'm afraid it
+      wouldn't be pleasant for you or your guests to meet either the posse or
+      the bandits.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fancy not,&rdquo; said Madeline, considerably relieved. &ldquo;We'll hurry back to
+      the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They exchanged no more speech at the moment, and Madeline's guests were
+      silent. Perhaps Stewart's actions and looks belied his calm words. His
+      piercing eyes roved round the rim of the mesa, and his face was as hard
+      and stern as chiseled bronze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty and Nick came galloping up, each leading several horses by the
+      bridles. Nels appeared behind them with Majesty, and he was having trouble
+      with the roan. Madeline observed that all the other cowboys had
+      disappeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One sharp word from Stewart calmed Madeline's horse; the other horses,
+      however, were frightened and not inclined to stand. The men mounted
+      without trouble, and likewise Madeline and Florence. But Edith Wayne and
+      Mrs. Beck, being nervous and almost helpless, were with difficulty gotten
+      into the saddle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beg pardon, but I'm pressed for time,&rdquo; said Stewart, coolly, as with iron
+      arm he forced Dorothy's horse almost to its knees. Dorothy, who was active
+      and plucky, climbed astride; and when Stewart loosed his hold on bit and
+      mane the horse doubled up and began to buck. Dorothy screamed as she shot
+      into the air. Stewart, as quick as the horse, leaped forward and caught
+      Dorothy in his arms. She had slipped head downward and, had he not caught
+      her, would have had a serious fall. Stewart, handling her as if she were a
+      child, turned her right side up to set her upon her feet. Dorothy
+      evidently thought only of the spectacle she presented, and made startled
+      motions to readjust her riding-habit. It was no time to laugh, though
+      Madeline felt as if she wanted to. Besides, it was impossible to be
+      anything but sober with Stewart in violent mood. For he had jumped at
+      Dorothy's stubborn mount. All cowboys were masters of horses. It was
+      wonderful to see him conquer the vicious animal. He was cruel, perhaps,
+      yet it was from necessity. When, presently, he led the horse back to
+      Dorothy she mounted without further trouble. Meanwhile, Nels and Nick had
+      lifted Helen into her saddle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'll take the side trail,&rdquo; said Stewart, shortly, as he swung upon the
+      big black. Then he led the way, and the other cowboys trotted in the rear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only a short distance to the rim of the mesa, and when Madeline saw
+      the steep trail, narrow and choked with weathered stone, she felt that her
+      guests would certainly flinch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's a jolly bad course,&rdquo; observed Castleton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The women appeared to be speechless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart checked his horse at the deep cut where the trail started down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Boys, drop over, and go slow,&rdquo; he said, dismounting. &ldquo;Flo, you follow.
+      Now, ladies, let your horses loose and hold on. Lean forward and hang to
+      the pommel. It looks bad. But the horses are used to such trails.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen followed closely after Florence; Mrs. Beck went next, and then Edith
+      Wayne. Dorothy's horse balked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not so&mdash;so frightened,&rdquo; said Dorothy. &ldquo;If only he would behave!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She began to urge him into the trail, making him rear, when Stewart
+      grasped the bit and jerked the horse down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put your foot in my stirrup,&rdquo; said Stewart. &ldquo;We can't waste time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He lifted her upon his horse and started him down over the rim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go on, Miss Hammond. I'll have to lead this nag down. It'll save time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Madeline attended to the business of getting down herself. It was a
+      loose trail. The weathered slopes seemed to slide under the feet of the
+      horses. Dust-clouds formed; rocks rolled and rattled down; cactus spikes
+      tore at horse and rider. Mrs. Beck broke into laughter, and there was a
+      note in it that suggested hysteria. Once or twice Dorothy murmured
+      plaintively. Half the time Madeline could not distinguish those ahead
+      through the yellow dust. It was dry and made her cough. The horses
+      snorted. She heared Stewart close behind, starting little avalanches that
+      kept rolling on Majesty's fetlocks. She feared his legs might be cut or
+      bruised, for some of the stones cracked by and went rattling down the
+      slope. At length the clouds of dust thinned and Madeline saw the others
+      before her ride out upon a level. Soon she was down, and Stewart also.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here there was a delay, occasioned by Stewart changing Dorothy from his
+      horse to her own. This struck Madeline as being singular, and made her
+      thoughtful. In fact, the alert, quiet manner of all the cowboys was not
+      reassuring. As they resumed the ride it was noticeable that Nels and Nick
+      were far in advance, Monty stayed far in the rear, and Stewart rode with
+      the party. Madeline heard Boyd Harvey ask Stewart if lawlessness such as
+      he had mentioned was not unusual. Stewart replied that, except for
+      occasional deeds of outlawry such as might break out in any isolated
+      section of the country, there had been peace and quiet along the border
+      for years. It was the Mexican revolution that had revived wild times, with
+      all the attendant raids and holdups and gun-packing. Madeline knew that
+      they were really being escorted home under armed guard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they rounded the head of the mesa, bringing into view the ranch-house
+      and the valley, Madeline saw dust or smoke hovering over a hut upon the
+      outskirts of the Mexican quarters. As the sun had set and the light was
+      fading, she could not distinguish which it was. Then Stewart set a fast
+      pace for the house. In a few minutes the party was in the yard, ready and
+      willing to dismount.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell appeared, ostensibly cheerful, too cheerful to deceive Madeline.
+      She noted also that a number of armed cowboys were walking with their
+      horses just below the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, you-all had a nice little run,&rdquo; Stillwell said, speaking generally.
+      &ldquo;I reckon there wasn't much need of it. Pat Hawe thinks he's got some
+      outlaws corralled on the ranch. Nothin' at all to be fussed up about.
+      Stewart's that particular he won't have you meetin' with any rowdies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Many and fervent were the expressions of relief from Madeline's feminine
+      guests as they dismounted and went into the house. Madeline lingered
+      behind to speak with Stillwell and Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Stillwell, out with it,&rdquo; she said, briefly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cattleman stared, and then he laughed, evidently pleased with her
+      keenness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Miss Majesty, there's goin' to be a fight somewhere, an' Stewart
+      wanted to get you-all in before it come off. He says the valley's overrun
+      by vaqueros an' guerrillas an' robbers, an' Lord knows what else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stamped off the porch, his huge spurs rattling, and started down the
+      path toward the waiting men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart stood in his familiar attentive position, erect, silent, with a
+      hand on pommel and bridle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, you are exceedingly&mdash;thoughtful of my interests,&rdquo; she said,
+      wanting to thank him, and not readily finding words. &ldquo;I would not know
+      what to do without you. Is there danger?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not sure. But I want to be on the safe side.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hesitated. It was no longer easy for her to talk to him, and she did
+      not know why.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I know the special orders you gave Nels and Nick and Monty?&rdquo; she
+      asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who said I gave those boys special orders?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard Stillwell tell them so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I'll tell you if you insist. But why should you worry over
+      something that'll likely never happen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I insist, Stewart,&rdquo; she replied, quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My orders were that at least one of them must be on guard near you day
+      and night&mdash;never to be out of hearing of your voice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought as much. But why Nels or Monty or Nick? That seems rather hard
+      on them. For that matter, why put any one to keep guard over me? Do you
+      not trust any other of my cowboys?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd trust their honesty, but not their ability.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ability? Of what nature?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With guns.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart!&rdquo; she exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, you have been having such a good time entertaining your
+      guests that you forget. I'm glad of that. I wish you had not questioned
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forget what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don Carlos and his guerrillas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I have not forgotten. Stewart, you still think Don Carlos tried to
+      make off with me&mdash;may try it again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think. I know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And besides all your other duties you have shared the watch with these
+      three cowboys?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has been going on without my knowledge?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since when?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since I brought you down from the mountains last month.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long is it to continue?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's hard to say. Till the revolution is over, anyhow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She mused a moment, looking away to the west, where the great void was
+      filling with red haze. She believed implicitly in him, and the menace
+      hovering near her fell like a shadow upon her present happiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What must I do?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you ought to send your friends back East&mdash;and go with them,
+      until this guerrilla war is over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Stewart, they would be broken-hearted, and so would I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had no reply for that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I do not take your advice it will be the first time since I have come
+      to look to you for so much,&rdquo; she went on. &ldquo;Cannot you suggest something
+      else? My friends are having such a splendid visit. Helen is getting well.
+      Oh, I should be sorry to see them go before they want to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We might take them up into the mountains and camp out for a while,&rdquo; he
+      said, presently. &ldquo;I know a wild place up among the crags. It's a hard
+      climb, but worth the work. I never saw a more beautiful spot. Fine water,
+      and it will be cool. Pretty soon it'll be too hot here for your party to
+      go out-of-doors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean to hide me away among the crags and clouds?&rdquo; replied Madeline,
+      with a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it'd amount to that. Your friends need not know. Perhaps in a few
+      weeks this spell of trouble on the border will be over till fall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You say it's a hard climb up to this place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It surely is. Your friends will get the real thing if they make that
+      trip.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That suits me. Helen especially wants something to happen. And they are
+      all crazy for excitement.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They'd get it up there. Bad trails, canyons to head, steep climbs,
+      wind-storms, thunder and lightning, rain, mountain-lions and wildcats.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, I am decided. Stewart, of course you will take charge? I don't
+      believe I&mdash;Stewart, isn't there something more you could tell me&mdash;why
+      you think, why you know my own personal liberty is in peril?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. But do not ask me what it is. If I hadn't been a rebel soldier I
+      would never have known.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you had not been a rebel soldier, where would Madeline Hammond be
+      now?&rdquo; she asked, earnestly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He made no reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart,&rdquo; she continued, with warm impulse, &ldquo;you once mentioned a debt
+      you owed me&mdash;&rdquo; And seeing his dark face pale, she wavered, then went
+      on. &ldquo;It is paid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; he answered, huskily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I will not have it otherwise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. That never can be paid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline held out her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is paid, I tell you,&rdquo; she repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly he drew back from the outstretched white hand that seemed to
+      fascinate him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd kill a man to touch your hand. But I won't touch it on the terms you
+      offer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His unexpected passion disconcerted her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, no man ever before refused to shake hands with me, for any
+      reason. It&mdash;it is scarcely flattering,&rdquo; she said, with a little
+      laugh. &ldquo;Why won't you? Because you think I offer it as mistress to servant&mdash;rancher
+      to cowboy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why? The debt you owed me is paid. I cancel it. So why not shake
+      hands upon it, as men do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't. That's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear you are ungracious, whatever your reason,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Still, I
+      may offer it again some day. Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He said good night and turned. Madeline wonderingly watched him go down
+      the path with his hand on the black horse's neck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She went in to rest a little before dressing for dinner, and, being
+      fatigued from the day's riding and excitement, she fell asleep. When she
+      awoke it was twilight. She wondered why her Mexican maid had not come to
+      her, and she rang the bell. The maid did not put in an appearance, nor was
+      there any answer to the ring. The house seemed unusually quiet. It was a
+      brooding silence, which presently broke to the sound of footsteps on the
+      porch. Madeline recognized Stillwell's tread, though it appeared to be
+      light for him. Then she heard him call softly in at the open door of her
+      office. The suggestion of caution in his voice suited the strangeness of
+      his walk. With a boding sense of trouble she hurried through the rooms. He
+      was standing outside her office door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stillwell!&rdquo; she exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anybody with you?&rdquo; he asked, in a low tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please come out on the porch,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She complied, and, once out, was enabled to see him. His grave face, paler
+      than she had ever beheld it, caused her to stretch an appealing hand
+      toward him. Stillwell intercepted it and held it in his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, I'm amazin' sorry to tell worrisome news.&rdquo; He spoke almost
+      in a whisper, cautiously looked about him, and seemed both hurried and
+      mysterious. &ldquo;If you'd heerd Stewart cuss you'd sure know how we hate to
+      hev to tell you this. But it can't be avoided. The fact is we're in a bad
+      fix. If your guests ain't scared out of their skins it'll be owin' to your
+      nerve an' how you carry out Stewart's orders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can rely upon me,&rdquo; replied Madeline, firmly, though she trembled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, what we're up against is this: that gang of bandits Pat Hawe was
+      chasin'&mdash;they're hidin' in the house!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the house?&rdquo; echoed Madeline, aghast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, it's the amazin' truth, an' shamed indeed am I to admit it.
+      Stewart&mdash;why, he's wild with rage to think it could hev happened. You
+      see, it couldn't hev happened if I hedn't sloped the boys off to the
+      gol-lof-links, an' if Stewart hedn't rid out on the mesa after us. It's my
+      fault. I've hed too much femininity around fer my old haid. Gene cussed me&mdash;he
+      cussed me sure scandalous. But now we've got to face it&mdash;to figger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean that a gang of hunted outlaws&mdash;bandits&mdash;have
+      actually taken refuge somewhere in my house?&rdquo; demanded Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sure do. Seems powerful strange to me why you didn't find somethin' was
+      wrong, seem' all your servants hev sloped.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone? Ah, I missed my maid! I wondered why no lights were lit. Where did
+      my servants go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Down to the Mexican quarters, an' scared half to death. Now listen. When
+      Stewart left you an hour or so ago he follered me direct to where me an'
+      the boys was tryin' to keep Pat Hawe from tearin' the ranch to pieces. At
+      that we was helpin' Pat all we could to find them bandits. But when
+      Stewart got there he made a difference. Pat was nasty before, but seein'
+      Stewart made him wuss. I reckon Gene to Pat is the same as red to a
+      Greaser bull. Anyway, when the sheriff set fire to an old adobe hut
+      Stewart called him an' called him hard. Pat Hawe hed six fellers with him,
+      an' from all appearances bandit-huntin' was some fiesta. There was a row,
+      an 'it looked bad fer a little. But Gene was cool, an' he controlled the
+      boys. Then Pat an' his tough de-pooties went on huntin'. That huntin',
+      Miss Majesty, petered out into what was only a farce. I reckon Pat could
+      hev kept on foolin' me an' the boys, but as soon as Stewart showed up on
+      the scene&mdash;wal, either Pat got to blunderin' or else we-all shed our
+      blinders. Anyway, the facts stood plain. Pat Hawe wasn't lookin' hard fer
+      any bandits; he wasn't daid set huntin' anythin', unless it was trouble
+      fer Stewart. Finally, when Pat's men made fer our storehouse, where we
+      keep ammunition, grub, liquors, an' sich, then Gene called a halt. An' he
+      ordered Pat Hawe off the ranch. It was hyar Hawe an' Stewart locked horns.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' hyar the truth come out. There was a gang of bandits hid somewheres,
+      an' at fust Pat Hawe hed been powerful active an' earnest in his huntin'.
+      But sudden-like he'd fetched a pecooliar change of heart. He had been some
+      flustered with Stewart's eyes a-pryin' into his moves, an' then, mebbe to
+      hide somethin', mebbe jest nat'rul, he got mad. He hollered law. He pulled
+      down off the shelf his old stock grudge on Stewart, accusin' him over
+      again of that Greaser murder last fall. Stewart made him look like a fool&mdash;showed
+      him up as bein' scared of the bandits or hevin' some reason fer slopin'
+      off the trail. Anyway, the row started all right, an' but fer Nels it
+      might hev amounted to a fight. In the thick of it, when Stewart was
+      drivin' Pat an' his crowd off the place, one of them de-pooties lost his
+      head an' went fer his gun. Nels throwed his gun an' crippled the feller's
+      arm. Monty jumped then an' throwed two forty-fives, an' fer a second or so
+      it looked ticklish. But the bandit-hunters crawled, an' then lit out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell paused in the rapid delivery of his narrative; he still retained
+      Madeline's hand, as if by that he might comfort her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After Pat left we put our haids together,&rdquo; began the old cattleman, with
+      a long respiration. &ldquo;We rounded up a lad who hed seen a dozen or so
+      fellers&mdash;he wouldn't to they was Greasers&mdash;breakin' through the
+      shrubbery to the back of the house. That was while Stewart was ridin' out
+      to the mesa. Then this lad seen your servants all runnin' down the hill
+      toward the village. Now, heah's the way Gene figgers. There sure was some
+      deviltry down along the railroad, an' Pat Hawe trailed bandits up to the
+      ranch. He hunts hard an' then all to onct he quits. Stewart says Pat Hawe
+      wasn't scared, but he discovered signs or somethin', or got wind in some
+      strange way that there was in the gang of bandits some fellers he didn't
+      want to ketch. Sabe? Then Gene, quicker 'n a flash, springs his plan on
+      me. He'd go down to Padre Marcos an' hev him help to find out all possible
+      from your Mexican servants. I was to hurry up hyar an' tell you&mdash;give
+      you orders, Miss Majesty. Ain't that amazin' strange? Wal, you're to
+      assemble all your guests in the kitchen. Make a grand bluff an' pretend,
+      as your help has left, that it'll be great fun fer your guests to cook
+      dinner. The kitchen is the safest room in the house. While you're joshin'
+      your party along, makin' a kind of picnic out of it, I'll place cowboys in
+      the long corridor, an' also outside in the corner where the kitchen joins
+      on to the main house. It's pretty sure the bandits think no one's wise to
+      where they're hid. Stewart says they're in that end room where the alfalfa
+      is, an' they'll slope in the night. Of course, with me an' the boys
+      watchin', you-all will be safe to go to bed. An' we're to rouse your
+      guests early before daylight, to hit the trail up into the mountains. Tell
+      them to pack outfits before goin' to bed. Say as your servants hev sloped,
+      you might as well go campin' with the cowboys. That's all. If we hev any
+      luck your' friends'll never know they've been sittin' on a powder-mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stillwell, do you advise that trip up into the mountains?&rdquo; asked
+      Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon I do, considerin' everythin'. Now, Miss Majesty, I've used up a
+      lot of time explainin'. You'll sure keep your nerve?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Madeline replied, and was surprised at herself. &ldquo;Better tell
+      Florence. She'll be a power of comfort to you. I'm goin' now to fetch up
+      the boys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Instead of returning to her room Madeline went through the office into the
+      long corridor. It was almost as dark as night. She fancied she saw a
+      slow-gliding figure darker than the surrounding gloom; and she entered
+      upon the fulfilment of her part of the plan in something like trepidation.
+      Her footsteps were noiseless. Finding the door to the kitchen, and going
+      in, she struck lights. Upon passing out again she made certain she
+      discerned a dark shape, now motionless, crouching along the wall. But she
+      mistrusted her vivid imagination. It took all her boldness to enable her
+      unconcernedly and naturally to strike the corridor light. Then she went on
+      through her own rooms and thence into the patio.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her guests laughingly and gladly entered into the spirit of the occasion.
+      Madeline fancied her deceit must have been perfect, seeing that it
+      deceived even Florence. They trooped merrily into the kitchen. Madeline,
+      delaying at the door, took a sharp but unobtrusive glance down the great,
+      barnlike hall. She saw nothing but blank dark space. Suddenly from one
+      side, not a rod distant, protruded a pale, gleaming face breaking the even
+      blackness. Instantly it flashed back out of sight. Yet that time was long
+      enough for Madeline to see a pair of glittering eyes, and to recognize
+      them as Don Carlos's.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Without betraying either hurry or alarm, she closed the door. It had a
+      heavy bolt which she slowly, noiselessly shot. Then the cold amaze that
+      had all but stunned her into inaction throbbed into wrath. How dared that
+      Mexican steal into her home! What did he mean? Was he one of the bandits
+      supposed to be hidden in her house? She was thinking herself into greater
+      anger and excitement, and probably would have betrayed herself had not
+      Florence, who had evidently seen her bolt the door and now read her
+      thoughts, come toward her with a bright, intent, questioning look.
+      Madeline caught herself in time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon she gave each of her guests a duty to perform. Leading Florence
+      into the pantry, she unburdened herself of the secret in one brief
+      whisper. Florence's reply was to point out of the little open window,
+      passing which was a file of stealthily moving cowboys. Then Madeline lost
+      both anger and fear, retaining only the glow of excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline could be gay, and she initiated the abandonment of dignity by
+      calling Castleton into the pantry, and, while interesting him in some
+      pretext or other, imprinting the outlines of her flour-covered hands upon
+      the back of his black coat. Castleton innocently returned to the kitchen
+      to be greeted with a roar. That surprising act of the hostess set the
+      pace, and there followed a merry, noisy time. Everybody helped. The
+      miscellaneous collection of dishes so confusingly contrived made up a
+      dinner which they all heartily enjoyed. Madeline enjoyed it herself, even
+      with the feeling of a sword hanging suspended over her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The hour was late when she rose from the table and told her guests to go
+      to their rooms, don their riding-clothes, pack what they needed for the
+      long and adventurous camping trip that she hoped would be the climax of
+      their Western experience, and to snatch a little sleep before the cowboys
+      roused them for the early start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline went immediately to her room, and was getting out her camping
+      apparel when a knock interrupted her. She thought Florence had come to
+      help her pack. But this knock was upon the door opening out in the porch.
+      It was repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who's there?&rdquo; she questioned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart,&rdquo; came the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She opened the door. He stood on the threshold. Beyond him, indistinct in
+      the gloom, were several cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I speak to you?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo; She hesitated a moment, then asked him in and closed the
+      door. &ldquo;Is&mdash;is everything all right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. These bandits stick to cover pretty close. They must have found out
+      we're on the watch. But I'm sure we'll get you and your friends away
+      before anything starts. I wanted to tell you that I've talked with your
+      servants. They were just scared. They'll come back to-morrow, soon as Bill
+      gets rid of this gang. You need not worry about them or your property.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you have any idea who is hiding in the house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was worried some at first. Pat Hawe acted queer. I imagined he'd
+      discovered he was trailing bandits who might turn out to be his smuggling
+      guerrilla cronies. But talking with your servants, finding a bunch of
+      horses upon hidden down in the mesquite behind the pond&mdash;several
+      things have changed my mind. My idea is that a cowardly handful of
+      riffraff outcasts from the border have hidden in your house, more by
+      accident than design. We'll let them go&mdash;get rid of them without even
+      a shot. If I didn't think so&mdash;well, I'd be considerably worried. It
+      would make a different state of affairs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, you are wrong,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He started, but his reply did not follow swiftly. The expression of his
+      eyes altered. Presently he spoke:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw one of these bandits. I distinctly recognized him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One long step brought him close to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was he?&rdquo; demanded Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don Carlos.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He muttered low and deep, then said, &ldquo;Are you sure?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Absolutely. I saw his figure twice in the hall, then his face in the
+      light. I could never mistake his eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he know you saw him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not positive, but I think so. Oh, he must have known! I was standing
+      full in the light. I had entered the door, then purposely stepped out. His
+      face showed from around a corner, and swiftly flashed out of sight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was tremblingly conscious that Stewart underwent a
+      transformation. She saw as well as felt the leaping passion that changed
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Call your friends&mdash;get them in here!&rdquo; he ordered, tersely, and
+      wheeled toward the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, wait!&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned. His white face, his burning eyes, his presence now charged with
+      definite, fearful meaning, influenced her strangely, weakened her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will you do?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That needn't concern you. Get your party in here. Bar the windows and
+      lock the doors. You'll be safe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart! Tell me what you intend to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't tell you,&rdquo; he replied, and turned away again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I will know,&rdquo; she said. With a hand on his arm she detained him. She
+      saw how he halted&mdash;felt the shock in him as she touched him. &ldquo;Oh, I
+      do know. You mean to fight!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Miss Hammond, isn't it about time?&rdquo; he asked. Evidently he overcame
+      a violent passion for instant action. There was weariness, dignity, even
+      reproof in his question. &ldquo;The fact of that Mexican's presence here in your
+      house ought to prove to you the nature of the case. These vaqueros, these
+      guerrillas, have found out you won't stand for any fighting on the part of
+      your men. Don Carlos is a sneak, a coward, yet he's not afraid to hide in
+      your own house. He has learned you won't let your cowboys hurt anybody.
+      He's taking advantage of it. He'll rob, burn, and make off with you. He'll
+      murder, too, if it falls his way. These Greasers use knives in the dark.
+      So I ask&mdash;isn't it about time we stop him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, I forbid you to fight, unless in self-defense. I forbid you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I mean to do is self-defense. Haven't I tried to explain to you that
+      just now we've wild times along this stretch of border? Must I tell you
+      again that Don Carlos is hand and glove with the revolution? The rebels
+      are crazy to stir up the United States. You are a woman of prominence. Don
+      Carlos would make off with you. If he got you, what little matter to cross
+      the border with you! Well, where would the hue and cry go? Through the
+      troops along the border! To New York! To Washington! Why, it would mean
+      what the rebels are working for&mdash;United States intervention. In other
+      words, war!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, surely you exaggerate!&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe so. But I'm beginning to see the Don's game. And, Miss Hammond, I&mdash;It's
+      awful for me to think what you'd suffer if Don Carlos got you over the
+      line. I know these low-caste Mexicans. I've been among the peons&mdash;the
+      slaves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, don't let Don Carlos get me,&rdquo; replied Madeline, in sweet
+      directness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She saw him shake, saw his throat swell as he swallowed hard, saw the hard
+      fierceness return to his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't. That's why I'm going after him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I forbade you to start a fight deliberately.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I'll go ahead and start one without your permission,&rdquo; he replied
+      shortly, and again he wheeled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This time, when Madeline caught his arm she held to it, even after he
+      stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said, imperiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook off her hand and strode forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please don't go!&rdquo; she called, beseechingly. But he kept on. &ldquo;Stewart!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She ran ahead of him, intercepted him, faced him with her back against the
+      door. He swept out a long arm as if to brush her aside. But it wavered and
+      fell. Haggard, troubled, with working face, he stood before her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's for your sake,&rdquo; he expostulated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it is for my sake, then do what pleases me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These guerrillas will knife somebody. They'll burn the house. They'll
+      make off with you. They'll do something bad unless we stop them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us risk all that,&rdquo; she importuned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it's a terrible risk, and it oughtn't be run,&rdquo; he exclaimed,
+      passionately. &ldquo;I know best here. Stillwell upholds me. Let me out, Miss
+      Hammond. I'm going to take the boys and go after these guerrillas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Heavens!&rdquo; exclaimed Stewart. &ldquo;Why not let me go? It's the thing to
+      do. I'm sorry to distress you and your guests. Why not put an end to Don
+      Carlos's badgering? Is it because you're afraid a rumpus will spoil your
+      friends' visit?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn't&mdash;not this time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it's the idea of a little shooting at these Greasers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're sick to think of a little Greaser blood staining the halls of your
+      home?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, why keep me from doing what I know is best?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, I&mdash;I&mdash;&rdquo; she faltered, in growing agitation. &ldquo;I'm
+      frightened&mdash;confused. All this is too&mdash;too much for me. I'm not
+      a coward. If you have to fight you'll see I'm not a coward. But your way
+      seems so reckless&mdash;that hall is so dark&mdash;the guerrillas would
+      shoot from behind doors. You're so wild, so daring, you'd rush right into
+      peril. Is that necessary? I think&mdash;I mean&mdash;I don't know just why
+      I feel so&mdash;so about you doing it. But I believe it's because I'm
+      afraid you&mdash;you might be hurt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're afraid I&mdash;I might be hurt?&rdquo; he echoed, wonderingly, the hard
+      whiteness of his face warming, flushing, glowing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The single word, with all it might mean, with all it might not mean,
+      softened him as if by magic, made him gentle, amazed, shy as a boy,
+      stifling under a torrent of emotions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline thought she had persuaded him&mdash;worked her will with him.
+      Then another of his startlingly sudden moves told her that she had
+      reckoned too quickly. This move was to put her firmly aside so he could
+      pass; and Madeline, seeing he would not hesitate to lift her out of the
+      way, surrendered the door. He turned on the threshold. His face was still
+      working, but the flame-pointed gleam of his eyes indicated the return of
+      that cowboy ruthlessness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to drive Don Carlos and his gang out of the house,&rdquo; declared
+      Stewart. &ldquo;I think I may promise you to do it without a fight. But if it
+      takes a fight, off he goes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XV. The Mountain Trail
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      As Stewart departed from one door Florence knocked upon another; and
+      Madeline, far shaken out of her usual serenity, admitted the cool Western
+      girl with more than gladness. Just to have her near helped Madeline to get
+      back her balance. She was conscious of Florence's sharp scrutiny, then of
+      a sweet, deliberate change of manner. Florence might have been burning
+      with curiosity to know more about the bandits hidden in the house, the
+      plans of the cowboys, the reason for Madeline's suppressed emotion; but
+      instead of asking Madeline questions she introduced the important subject
+      of what to take on the camping trip. For an hour they discussed the need
+      of this and that article, selected those things most needful, and then
+      packed them in Madeline's duffle-bags.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That done, they decided to lie down, fully dressed as they were in
+      riding-costume, and sleep, or at least rest, the little remaining time
+      left before the call to saddle. Madeline turned out the light and, peeping
+      through her window, saw dark forms standing sentinel-like in the gloom.
+      When she lay down she heard soft steps on the path. This fidelity to her
+      swelled her heart, while the need of it presaged that fearful something
+      which, since Stewart's passionate appeal to her, haunted her as
+      inevitable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline did not expect to sleep, yet she did sleep, and it seemed to have
+      been only a moment until Florence called her. She followed Florence
+      outside. It was the dark hour before dawn. She could discern saddled
+      horses being held by cowboys. There was an air of hurry and mystery about
+      the departure. Helen, who came tip-toeing out with Madeline's other
+      guests, whispered that it was like an escape. She was delighted. The
+      others were amused. To Madeline it was indeed an escape.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the darkness Madeline could not see how many escorts her party was to
+      have. She heard low voices, the champing of bits and thumping of hoofs,
+      and she recognized Stewart when he led up Majesty for her to mount. Then
+      came a pattering of soft feet and the whining of dogs. Cold noses touched
+      her hands, and she saw the long, gray, shaggy shapes of her pack of
+      Russian wolf-hounds. That Stewart meant to let them go with her was
+      indicative of how he studied her pleasure. She loved to be out with the
+      hounds and her horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart led Majesty out into the darkness past a line of mounted horses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Guess we're ready?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I'll make the count.&rdquo; He went back along
+      the line, and on the return Madeline heard him say several times, &ldquo;Now,
+      everybody ride close to the horse in front, and keep quiet till daylight.&rdquo;
+       Then the snorting and pounding of the big black horse in front of her told
+      Madeline that Stewart had mounted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, we're off,&rdquo; he called.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline lifted Majesty's bridle and let the roan go. There was a crack
+      and crunch of gravel, fire struck from stone, a low whinny, a snort, and
+      then steady, short, clip-clop of iron hoofs on hard ground. Madeline could
+      just discern Stewart and his black outlined in shadowy gray before her.
+      Yet they were almost within touching distance. Once or twice one of the
+      huge stag-hounds leaped up at her and whined joyously. A thick belt of
+      darkness lay low, and seemed to thin out above to a gray fog, through
+      which a few wan stars showed. It was altogether an unusual departure from
+      the ranch; and Madeline, always susceptible even to ordinary incident that
+      promised well, now found herself thrillingly sensitive to the soft beat of
+      hoofs, the feel of cool, moist air, the dim sight of Stewart's dark
+      figure. The caution, the early start before dawn, the enforced silence&mdash;these
+      lent the occasion all that was needful to make it stirring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Majesty plunged into a gully, where sand and rough going made Madeline
+      stop romancing to attend to riding. In the darkness Stewart was not so
+      easy to keep close to even on smooth trails, and now she had to be
+      watchfully attentive to do it. Then followed a long march through dragging
+      sand. Meantime the blackness gradually changed to gray. At length Majesty
+      climbed out of the wash, and once more his iron shoes rang on stone. He
+      began to climb. The figure of Stewart and his horse loomed more distinctly
+      in Madeline's sight. Bending over, she tried to see the trail, but could
+      not. She wondered how Stewart could follow a trail in the dark. His eyes
+      must be as piercing as they sometimes looked. Over her shoulder Madeline
+      could not see the horse behind her, but she heard him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Majesty climbed steadily Madeline saw the gray darkness grow opaque,
+      change and lighten, lose its substance, and yield the grotesque shapes of
+      yucca and ocotillo. Dawn was about to break. Madeline imagined she was
+      facing east, still she saw no brightening of sky. All at once, to her
+      surprise, Stewart and his powerful horse stood clear in her sight. She saw
+      the characteristic rock and cactus and brush that covered the foothills.
+      The trail was old and seldom used, and it zigzagged and turned and
+      twisted. Looking back, she saw the short, squat figure of Monty Price
+      humped over his saddle. Monty's face was hidden under his sombrero. Behind
+      him rode Dorothy Coombs, and next loomed up the lofty form of Nick Steele.
+      Madeline and the members of her party were riding between cowboy escorts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bright daylight came, and Madeline saw the trail was leading up through
+      foothills. It led in a round-about way through shallow gullies full of
+      stone and brush washed down by floods. At every turn now Madeline expected
+      to come upon water and the waiting pack-train. But time passed, and miles
+      of climbing, and no water or horses were met. Expectation in Madeline gave
+      place to desire; she was hungry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Stewart's horse went splashing into a shallow pool. Beyond that
+      damp places in the sand showed here and there, and again more water in
+      rocky pockets. Stewart kept on. It was eight o'clock by Madeline's watch
+      when, upon turning into a wide hollow, she saw horses grazing on spare
+      grass, a great pile of canvas-covered bundles, and a fire round which
+      cowboys and two Mexican women were busy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline sat her horse and reviewed her followers as they rode up single
+      file. Her guests were in merry mood, and they all talked at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Breakfast&mdash;and rustle,&rdquo; called out Stewart, without ceremony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No need to tell me to rustle,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;I am simply ravenous. This
+      air makes me hungry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For that matter, Madeline observed Helen did not show any marked contrast
+      to the others. The hurry order, however, did not interfere with the meal
+      being somewhat in the nature of a picnic. While they ate and talked and
+      laughed the cowboys were packing horses and burros and throwing the
+      diamond-hitch, a procedure so interesting to Castleton that he got up with
+      coffee-cup in hand and tramped from one place to another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heard of that diamond-hitch-up,&rdquo; he observed to a cowboy. &ldquo;Bally nice
+      little job!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as the pack-train was in readiness Stewart started it off in the
+      lead to break trail. A heavy growth of shrub interspersed with rock and
+      cactus covered the slopes; and now all the trail appeared to be uphill. It
+      was not a question of comfort for Madeline and her party, for comfort was
+      impossible; it was a matter of making the travel possible for him.
+      Florence wore corduroy breeches and high-top boots, and the advantage of
+      this masculine garb was at once in evidence. The riding-habits of the
+      other ladies suffered considerably from the sharp spikes. It took all
+      Madeline's watchfulness to save her horse's legs, to pick the best bits of
+      open ground, to make cut-offs from the trail, and to protect herself from
+      outreaching thorny branches, so that the time sped by without her knowing
+      it. The pack-train forged ahead, and the trailing couples grew farther
+      apart. At noon they got out of the foothills to face the real ascent of
+      the mountains. The sun beat down hot. There was little breeze, and the
+      dust rose thick and hung in a pall. The view was restricted, and what
+      scenery lay open to the eye was dreary and drab, a barren monotony of
+      slow-mounting slopes ridged by rocky canyons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once Stewart waited for Madeline, and as she came up he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're going to have a storm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That will be a relief. It's so hot and dusty,&rdquo; replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I call a halt and make camp?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here? Oh no! What do you think best?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if we have a good healthy thunder-storm it will be something new
+      for your friends. I think we'd be wise to keep on the go. There's no place
+      to make a good camp. The wind would blow us off this slope if the rain
+      didn't wash us off. It'll take all-day travel to reach a good camp-site,
+      and I don't promise that. We're making slow time. If it rains, let it
+      rain. The pack outfit is well covered. We will have to get wet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely,&rdquo; replied Madeline; and she smiled at his inference. She knew what
+      a storm was in that country, and her guests had yet to experience one. &ldquo;If
+      it rains, let it rain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart rode on, and Madeline followed. Up the slope toiled and nodded the
+      pack-animals, the little burros going easily where the horses labored.
+      Their packs, like the humps of camels, bobbed from side to side. Stones
+      rattled down; the heat-waves wavered black; the dust puffed up and sailed.
+      The sky was a pale blue, like heated steel, except where dark clouds
+      peeped over the mountain crests. A heavy, sultry atmosphere made breathing
+      difficult. Down the slope the trailing party stretched out in twos and
+      threes, and it was easy to distinguish the weary riders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half a mile farther up Madeline could see over the foothills to the north
+      and west and a little south, and she forgot the heat and weariness and
+      discomfort for her guests in wide, unlimited prospects of sun-scorched
+      earth. She marked the gray valley and the black mountains and the wide,
+      red gateway of the desert, and the dim, shadowy peaks, blue as the sky
+      they pierced. She was sorry when the bleak, gnarled cedar-trees shut off
+      her view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then there came a respite from the steep climb, and the way led in a
+      winding course through a matted, storm-wrenched forest of stunted trees.
+      Even up to this elevation the desert reached with its gaunt hand. The
+      clouds overspreading the sky, hiding the sun, made a welcome change. The
+      pack-train rested, and Stewart and Madeline waited for the party to come
+      up. Here he briefly explained to her that Don Carlos and his bandits had
+      left the ranch some time in the night. Thunder rumbled in the distance,
+      and a faint wind rustled the scant foliage of the cedars. The air grew
+      oppressive; the horses panted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure it'll be a hummer,&rdquo; said Stewart. &ldquo;The first storm almost always is
+      bad. I can feel it in the air.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The air, indeed, seemed to be charged with a heavy force that was waiting
+      to be liberated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One by one the couples mounted to the cedar forest, and the feminine
+      contingent declaimed eloquently for rest. But there was to be no permanent
+      rest until night and then that depended upon reaching the crags. The
+      pack-train wagged onward, and Stewart fell in behind. The storm-center
+      gathered slowly around the peaks; low rumble and howl of thunder increased
+      in frequence; slowly the light shaded as smoky clouds rolled up; the air
+      grew sultrier, and the exasperating breeze puffed a few times and then
+      failed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An hour later the party had climbed high and was rounding the side of a
+      great bare ridge that long had hidden the crags. The last burro of the
+      pack-train plodded over the ridge out of Madeline's sight. She looked
+      backward down the slope, amused to see her guests change wearily from side
+      to side in their saddles. Far below lay the cedar flat and the foothills.
+      Far to the west the sky was still clear, with shafts of sunlight shooting
+      down from behind the encroaching clouds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart reached the summit of the ridge and, though only a few rods ahead,
+      he waved to her, sweeping his hand round to what he saw beyond. It was an
+      impressive gesture, and Madeline, never having climbed as high as this,
+      anticipated much.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Majesty surmounted the last few steps and, snorting, halted beside
+      Stewart's black. To Madeline the scene was as if the world had changed.
+      The ridge was a mountain-top. It dropped before her into a black,
+      stone-ridged, shrub-patched, many-canyoned gulf. Eastward, beyond the
+      gulf, round, bare mountain-heads loomed up. Upward, on the right, led
+      giant steps of cliff and bench and weathered slope to the fir-bordered and
+      pine-fringed crags standing dark and bare against the stormy sky. Massed
+      inky clouds were piling across the peaks, obscuring the highest ones. A
+      fork of white lightning flashed, and, like the booming of an avalanche,
+      thunder followed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That bold world of broken rock under the slow mustering of storm-clouds
+      was a grim, awe-inspiring spectacle. It had beauty, but beauty of the
+      sublime and majestic kind. The fierce desert had reached up to meet the
+      magnetic heights where heat and wind and frost and lightning and flood
+      contended in everlasting strife. And before their onslaught this mighty
+      upflung world of rugged stone was crumbling, splitting, wearing to ruin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline glanced at Stewart. He had forgotten her presence. Immovable as
+      stone, he sat his horse, dark-faced, dark-eyed, and, like an Indian
+      unconscious of thought, he watched and watched. To see him thus, to divine
+      the strange affinity between the soul of this man, become primitive, and
+      the savage environment that had developed him, were powerful helps to
+      Madeline Hammond in her strange desire to understand his nature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A cracking of iron-shod hoofs behind her broke the spell. Monty had
+      reached the summit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene, what it won't all be doin' in a minnut Moses hisself couldn't
+      tell,&rdquo; observed Monty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Dorothy climbed to his side and looked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, isn't it just perfectly lovely!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;But I wish it
+      wouldn't storm. We'll all get wet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Once more Stewart faced the ascent, keeping to the slow heave of the ridge
+      as it rose southward toward the looming spires of rock. Soon he was off
+      smooth ground, and Madeline, some rods behind him, looked back with
+      concern at her friends. Here the real toil, the real climb began, and a
+      mountain storm was about to burst in all its fury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The slope that Stewart entered upon was a magnificent monument to the
+      ruined crags above. It was a southerly slope, and therefore semi-arid,
+      covered with cercocarpus and yucca and some shrub that Madeline believed
+      was manzanita. Every foot of the trail seemed to slide under Majesty. What
+      hard ground there was could not be traveled upon, owing to the spiny
+      covering or masses of shattered rocks. Gullies lined the slope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the sky grew blacker; the slow-gathering clouds appeared to be
+      suddenly agitated; they piled and rolled and mushroomed and obscured the
+      crags. The air moved heavily and seemed to be laden with sulphurous smoke,
+      and sharp lightning flashes began to play. A distant roar of wind could be
+      heard between the peals of thunder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart waited for Madeline under the lee of a shelving cliff, where the
+      cowboys had halted the pack-train. Majesty was sensitive to the flashes of
+      lightning. Madeline patted his neck and softly called to him. The weary
+      burros nodded; the Mexican women covered their heads with their mantles.
+      Stewart untied the slicker at the back of Madeline's saddle and helped her
+      on with it. Then he put on his own. The other cowboys followed suit.
+      Presently Madeline saw Monty and Dorothy rounding the cliff, and hoped the
+      others would come soon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A blue-white, knotted rope of lightning burned down out of the clouds, and
+      instantly a thunder-clap crashed, seeming to shake the foundations of the
+      earth. Then it rolled, as if banging from cloud to cloud, and boomed along
+      the peaks, and reverberated from deep to low, at last to rumble away into
+      silence. Madeline felt the electricity in Majesty's mane, and it seemed to
+      tingle through her nerves. The air had a weird, bright cast. The ponderous
+      clouds swallowed more and more of the eastern domes. This moment of the
+      breaking of the storm, with the strange growing roar of wind, like a
+      moaning monster, was pregnant with a heart-disturbing emotion for Madeline
+      Hammond. Glorious it was to be free, healthy, out in the open, under the
+      shadow of the mountain and cloud, in the teeth of the wind and rain and
+      storm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another dazzling blue blaze showed the bold mountain-side and the
+      storm-driven clouds. In the flare of light Madeline saw Stewart's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you afraid?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied, simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the thunderbolt racked the heavens, and as it boomed away in
+      lessening power Madeline reflected with surprise upon Stewart's answer.
+      Something in his face had made her ask him what she considered a foolish
+      question. His reply amazed her. She loved a storm. Why should he fear it&mdash;he,
+      with whom she could not associate fear?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How strange! Have you not been out in many storms?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A smile that was only a gleam flitted over his dark face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In hundreds of them. By day, with the cattle stampeding. At night, alone
+      on the mountain, with the pines crashing and the rocks rolling&mdash;in
+      flood on the desert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's not only the lightning, then?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. All the storm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline felt that henceforth she would have less faith in what she had
+      imagined was her love of the elements. What little she knew! If this
+      iron-nerved man feared a storm, then there was something about a storm to
+      fear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And suddenly, as the ground quaked under her horse's feet, and all the sky
+      grew black and crisscrossed by flaming streaks, and between thunderous
+      reports there was a strange hollow roar sweeping down upon her, she
+      realized how small was her knowledge and experience of the mighty forces
+      of nature. Then, with that perversity of character of which she was wholly
+      conscious, she was humble, submissive, reverent, and fearful even while
+      she gloried in the grandeur of the dark, cloud-shadowed crags and canyons,
+      the stupendous strife of sound, the wonderful driving lances of white
+      fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With blacker gloom and deafening roar came the torrent of rain. It was a
+      cloud-burst. It was like solid water tumbling down. For long Madeline sat
+      her horse, head bent to the pelting rain. When its force lessened and she
+      heard Stewart call for all to follow, she looked up to see that he was
+      starting once more. She shot a glimpse at Dorothy and as quickly glanced
+      away. Dorothy, who would not wear a hat suitable for inclement weather,
+      nor one of the horrid yellow, sticky slickers, was a drenched and
+      disheveled spectacle. Madeline did not trust herself to look at the other
+      girls. It was enough to hear their lament. So she turned her horse into
+      Stewart's trail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rain fell steadily. The fury of the storm, however, had passed, and the
+      roll of thunder diminished in volume. The air had wonderfully cleared and
+      was growing cool. Madeline began to feel uncomfortably cold and wet.
+      Stewart was climbing faster than formerly, and she noted that Monty kept
+      at her heels, pressing her on. Time had been lost, and the camp-site was a
+      long way off. The stag-hounds began to lag and get footsore. The sharp
+      rocks of the trail were cruel to their feet. Then, as Madeline began to
+      tire, she noticed less and less around her. The ascent grew rougher and
+      steeper&mdash;slow toil for panting horses. The thinning rain grew colder,
+      and sometimes a stronger whip of wind lashed stingingly in Madeline's
+      face. Her horse climbed and climbed, and brush and sharp corners of stone
+      everlastingly pulled and tore at her wet garments. A gray gloom settled
+      down around her. Night was approaching. Majesty heaved upward with a
+      snort, the wet saddle creaked, and an even motion told Madeline she was on
+      level ground. She looked up to see looming crags and spires, like huge
+      pipe-organs, dark at the base and growing light upward. The rain had
+      ceased, but the branches of fir-trees and juniper were water-soaked arms
+      reaching out for her. Through an opening between crags Madeline caught a
+      momentary glimpse of the west. Red sun-shafts shone through the murky,
+      broken clouds. The sun had set.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart's horse was on a jog-trot now, and Madeline left the trail more to
+      Majesty than to her own choosing. The shadows deepened, and the crags grew
+      gloomy and spectral. A cool wind moaned through the dark trees. Coyotes,
+      scenting the hounds, kept apace of them, and barked and howled off in the
+      gloom. But the tired hounds did not appear to notice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As black night began to envelop her surroundings, Madeline marked that the
+      fir-trees had given place to pine forest. Suddenly a pin-point of light
+      pierced the ebony blackness. Like a solitary star in dark sky it twinkled
+      and blinked. She lost sight of it&mdash;found it again. It grew larger.
+      Black tree-trunks crossed her line of vision. The light was a fire. She
+      heard a cowboy song and the wild chorus of a pack of coyotes. Drops of
+      rain on the branches of trees glittered in the rays of the fire. Stewart's
+      tall figure, with sombrero slouched down, was now and then outlined
+      against a growing circle of light. And by the aid of that light she saw
+      him turn every moment or so to look back, probably to assure himself that
+      she was close behind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a prospect of fire and warmth, and food and rest, Madeline's
+      enthusiasm revived. What a climb! There was promise in this wild ride and
+      lonely trail and hidden craggy height, not only in the adventure her
+      friends yearned for, but in some nameless joy and spirit for herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVI. The Crags
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Glad indeed was Madeline to be lifted off her horse beside a roaring fire&mdash;to
+      see steaming pots upon red-hot coals. Except about her shoulders, which
+      had been protected by the slicker, she was wringing wet. The Mexican women
+      came quickly to help her change in a tent near by; but Madeline preferred
+      for the moment to warm her numb feet and hands and to watch the spectacle
+      of her arriving friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy plumped off her saddle into the arms of several waiting cowboys.
+      She could scarcely walk. Far removed in appearance was she from her usual
+      stylish self. Her face was hidden by a limp and lopsided hat. From under
+      the disheveled brim came a plaintive moan: &ldquo;O-h-h! what a-an a-awful
+      ride!&rdquo; Mrs. Beck was in worse condition; she had to be taken off her
+      horse. &ldquo;I'm paralyzed&mdash;I'm a wreck. Bobby, get a roller-chair.&rdquo; Bobby
+      was solicitous and willing, but there were no roller-chairs. Florence
+      dismounted easily, and but for her mass of hair, wet and tumbling, would
+      have been taken for a handsome cowboy. Edith Wayne had stood the physical
+      strain of the ride better than Dorothy; however, as her mount was rather
+      small, she had been more at the mercy of cactus and brush. Her habit hung
+      in tatters. Helen had preserved a remnant of style, as well as of pride,
+      and perhaps a little strength. But her face was white, her eyes were big,
+      and she limped. &ldquo;Majesty!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;What did you want to do to us?
+      Kill us outright or make us homesick?&rdquo; Of all of them, however, Ambrose's
+      wife, Christine, the little French maid, had suffered the most in that
+      long ride. She was unaccustomed to horses. Ambrose had to carry her into
+      the big tent. Florence persuaded Madeline to leave the fire, and when they
+      went in with the others Dorothy was wailing because her wet boots would
+      not come off, Mrs. Beck was weeping and trying to direct a Mexican woman
+      to unfasten her bedraggled dress, and there was general pandemonium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Warm clothes&mdash;hot drinks and grub&mdash;warm blankets,&rdquo; rang out
+      Stewart's sharp order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, with Florence helping the Mexican women, it was not long until
+      Madeline and the feminine side of the party were comfortable, except for
+      the weariness and aches that only rest and sleep could alleviate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Neither fatigue nor pains, however, nor the strangeness of being packed
+      sardine-like under canvas, nor the howls of coyotes, kept Madeline's
+      guests from stretching out with long, grateful sighs, and one by one
+      dropping into deep slumber. Madeline whispered a little to Florence, and
+      laughed with her once or twice, and then the light flickering on the
+      canvas faded and her eyelids closed. Darkness and roar of camp life, low
+      voices of men, thump of horses' hoofs, coyote serenade, the sense of
+      warmth and sweet rest&mdash;all drifted away.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      When she awakened shadows of swaying branches moved on the sunlit canvas
+      above her. She heard the ringing strokes of an ax, but no other sound from
+      outside. Slow, regular breathing attested to the deep slumbers of her tent
+      comrades. She observed presently that Florence was missing from the
+      number. Madeline rose and peeped out between the flaps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An exquisitely beautiful scene surprised and enthralled her gaze. She saw
+      a level space, green with long grass, bright with flowers, dotted with
+      groves of graceful firs and pines and spruces, reaching to superb crags,
+      rosy and golden in the sunlight. Eager to get out where she could enjoy an
+      unrestricted view, she searched for her pack, found it in a corner, and
+      then hurriedly and quietly dressed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her favorite stag-hounds, Russ and Tartar, were asleep before the door,
+      where they had been chained. She awakened them and loosened them, thinking
+      the while that it must have been Stewart who had chained them near her.
+      Close at hand also was a cowboy's bed rolled up in a tarpaulin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cool air, fragrant with pine and spruce and some subtle nameless tang,
+      sweet and tonic, made Madeline stand erect and breathe slowly and deeply.
+      It was like drinking of a magic draught. She felt it in her blood, that it
+      quickened its flow. Turning to look in the other direction, beyond the
+      tent, she saw the remnants of last night's temporary camp, and farther on
+      a grove of beautiful pines from which came the sharp ring of the ax. Wider
+      gaze took in a wonderful park, not only surrounded by lofty crags, but
+      full of crags of lesser height, many lifting their heads from dark-green
+      groves of trees. The morning sun, not yet above the eastern elevations,
+      sent its rosy and golden shafts in between the towering rocks, to tip the
+      pines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, with the hounds beside her, walked through the nearest grove.
+      The ground was soft and springy and brown with pine-needles. Then she saw
+      that a clump of trees had prevented her from seeing the most striking part
+      of this natural park. The cowboys had selected a campsite where they would
+      have the morning sun and afternoon shade. Several tents and flies were
+      already up; there was a huge lean-to made of spruce boughs; cowboys were
+      busy round several camp-fires; piles of packs lay covered with tarpaulins,
+      and beds were rolled up under the trees. This space was a kind of rolling
+      meadow, with isolated trees here and there, and other trees in aisles and
+      circles; and it mounted up in low, grassy banks to great towers of stone
+      five hundred feet high. Other crags rose behind these. From under a mossy
+      cliff, huge and green and cool, bubbled a full, clear spring. Wild flowers
+      fringed its banks. Out in the meadow the horses were knee-deep in grass
+      that waved in the morning breeze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence espied Madeline under the trees and came running. She was like a
+      young girl, with life and color and joy. She wore a flannel blouse,
+      corduroy skirt, and moccasins. And her hair was fastened under a band like
+      an Indian's.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Castleton's gone with a gun, for hours, it seems,&rdquo; said Florence. &ldquo;Gene
+      just went to hunt him up. The other gentlemen are still asleep. I imagine
+      they sure will sleep up heah in this air.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, business-like, Florence fell to questioning Madeline about details
+      of camp arrangement which Stewart, and Florence herself, could hardly see
+      to without suggestion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before any of Madeline's sleepy guests awakened the camp was completed.
+      Madeline and Florence had a tent under a pine-tree, but they did not
+      intend to sleep in it except during stormy weather. They spread a
+      tarpaulin, made their bed on it, and elected to sleep under the light of
+      the stars. After that, taking the hounds with them, they explored. To
+      Madeline's surprise, the park was not a little half-mile nook nestling
+      among the crags, but extended farther than they cared to walk, and was
+      rather a series of parks. They were no more than small valleys between
+      gray-toothed peaks. As the day advanced the charm of the place grew upon
+      Madeline. Even at noon, with the sun beating down, there was comfortable
+      warmth rather than heat. It was the kind of warmth that Madeline liked to
+      feel in the spring. And the sweet, thin, rare atmosphere began to affect
+      her strangely. She breathed deeply of it until she felt light-headed, as
+      if her body lacked substance and might drift away like a thistledown. All
+      at once she grew uncomfortably sleepy. A dreamy languor possessed her,
+      and, lying under a pine with her head against Florence, she went to sleep.
+      When she opened her eyes the shadows of the crags stretched from the west,
+      and between them streamed a red-gold light. It was hazy, smoky sunshine
+      losing its fire. The afternoon had far advanced. Madeline sat up. Florence
+      was lazily reading. The two Mexican women were at work under the fly where
+      the big stone fireplace had been erected. No one else was in sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence, upon being questioned, informed Madeline that incident about
+      camp had been delightfully absent. Castleton had returned and was
+      profoundly sleeping with the other men. Presently a chorus of merry calls
+      attracted Madeline's attention, and she turned to see Helen limping along
+      with Dorothy, and Mrs. Beck and Edith supporting each other. They were all
+      rested, but lame, and delighted with the place, and as hungry as bears
+      awakened from a winter's sleep. Madeline forthwith escorted them round the
+      camp, and through the many aisles between the trees, and to the mossy,
+      pine-matted nooks under the crags.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then they had dinner, sitting on the ground after the manner of Indians;
+      and it was a dinner that lacked merriment only because everybody was too
+      busily appeasing appetite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Later Stewart led them across a neck of the park, up a rather steep climb
+      between towering crags, to take them out upon a grassy promontory that
+      faced the great open west&mdash;a vast, ridged, streaked, and reddened
+      sweep of earth rolling down, as it seemed, to the golden sunset end of the
+      world. Castleton said it was a jolly fine view; Dorothy voiced her usual
+      languid enthusiasm; Helen was on fire with pleasure and wonder; Mrs. Beck
+      appealed to Bobby to see how he liked it before she ventured, and she then
+      reiterated his praise; and Edith Wayne, like Madeline and Florence, was
+      silent. Boyd was politely interested; he was the kind of man who appeared
+      to care for things as other people cared for them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline watched the slow transformation of the changing west, with its
+      haze of desert dust, through which mountain and cloud and sun slowly
+      darkened. She watched until her eyes ached, and scarcely had a thought of
+      what she was watching. When her eyes shifted to encounter the tall form of
+      Stewart standing motionless on the rim, her mind became active again. As
+      usual, he stood apart from the others, and now he seemed aloof and
+      unconscious. He made a dark, powerful figure, and he fitted that wild
+      promontory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She experienced a strange, annoying surprise when she discovered both
+      Helen and Dorothy watching Stewart with peculiar interest. Edith, too, was
+      alive to the splendid picture the cowboy made. But when Edith smiled and
+      whispered in her ear, &ldquo;It's so good to look at a man like that,&rdquo; Madeline
+      again felt the surprise, only this time the accompaniment was a vague
+      pleasure rather than annoyance. Helen and Dorothy were flirts, one
+      deliberate and skilled, the other unconscious and natural. Edith Wayne,
+      occasionally&mdash;and Madeline reflected that the occasions were
+      infrequent&mdash;admired a man sincerely. Just here Madeline might have
+      fallen into a somewhat revealing state of mind if it had not been for the
+      fact that she believed Stewart was only an object of deep interest to her,
+      not as a man, but as a part of this wild and wonderful West which was
+      claiming her. So she did not inquire of herself why Helen's coquetry and
+      Dorothy's languishing allurement annoyed her, or why Edith's eloquent
+      smile and words had pleased her. She got as far, however, as to think
+      scornfully how Helen and Dorothy would welcome and meet a flirtation with
+      this cowboy and then go back home and forget him as utterly as if he had
+      never existed. She wondered, too, with a curious twist of feeling that was
+      almost eagerness, how the cowboy would meet their advances. Obviously the
+      situation was unfair to him; and if by some strange accident he escaped
+      unscathed by Dorothy's beautiful eyes he would never be able to withstand
+      Helen's subtle and fascinating and imperious personality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They returned to camp in the cool of the evening and made merry round a
+      blazing camp-fire. But Madeline's guests soon succumbed to the persistent
+      and irresistible desire to sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Madeline went to bed with Florence under the pine-tree. Russ lay upon
+      one side and Tartar upon the other. The cool night breeze swept over her,
+      fanning her face, waving her hair. It was not strong enough to make any
+      sound through the branches, but it stirred a faint, silken rustle in the
+      long grass. The coyotes began their weird bark and howl. Russ raised his
+      head to growl at their impudence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline faced upward, and it seemed to her that under those wonderful
+      white stars she would never be able to go to sleep. They blinked down
+      through the black-barred, delicate crisscross of pine foliage, and they
+      looked so big and so close. Then she gazed away to open space, where an
+      expanse of sky glittered with stars, and the longer she gazed the larger
+      they grew and the more she saw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was her belief that she had come to love all the physical things from
+      which sensations of beauty and mystery and strength poured into her
+      responsive mind; but best of all she loved these Western stars, for they
+      were to have something to do with her life, were somehow to influence her
+      destiny.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      For a few days the prevailing features of camp life for Madeline's guests
+      were sleep and rest. Dorothy Coombs slept through twenty-four hours, and
+      then was so difficult to awaken that for a while her friends were alarmed.
+      Helen almost fell asleep while eating and talking. The men were more
+      visibly affected by the mountain air than the women. Castleton, however,
+      would not succumb to the strange drowsiness while he had a chance to prowl
+      around with a gun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This languorous spell disappeared presently, and then the days were full
+      of life and action. Mrs. Beck and Bobby and Boyd, however, did not go in
+      for anything very strenuous. Edith Wayne, too, preferred to walk through
+      the groves or sit upon the grassy promontory. It was Helen and Dorothy who
+      wanted to explore the crags and canyons, and when they could not get the
+      others to accompany them they went alone, giving the cowboy guides many a
+      long climb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Necessarily, of course, Madeline and her guests were now thrown much in
+      company with the cowboys. And the party grew to be like one big family.
+      Her friends not only adapted themselves admirably to the situation, but
+      came to revel in it. As for Madeline, she saw that outside of a certain
+      proclivity of the cowboys to be gallant and on dress-parade and alive to
+      possibilities of fun and excitement, they were not greatly different from
+      what they were at all times. If there were a leveling process here it was
+      made by her friends coming down to meet the Westerners. Besides, any class
+      of people would tend to grow natural in such circumstances and
+      environment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline found the situation one of keen and double interest for her. If
+      before she had cared to study her cowboys, particularly Stewart, now, with
+      the contrasts afforded by her guests, she felt by turns she was amused and
+      mystified and perplexed and saddened, and then again subtly pleased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty, once he had overcome his shyness, became a source of delight to
+      Madeline, and, for that matter, to everybody. Monty had suddenly
+      discovered that he was a success among the ladies. Either he was exalted
+      to heroic heights by this knowledge or he made it appear so. Dorothy had
+      been his undoing, and in justice to her Madeline believed her innocent.
+      Dorothy thought Monty hideous to look at, and, accordingly, if he had been
+      a hero a hundred times and had saved a hundred poor little babies' lives,
+      he could not have interested her. Monty followed her around, reminding
+      her, she told Madeline, of a little adoring dog one moment and the next of
+      a huge, devouring gorilla.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels and Nick stalked at Helen's heels like grenadiers on duty, and if she
+      as much as dropped her glove they almost came to blows to see who should
+      pick it up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a way Castleton was the best feature of the camping party. He was such
+      an absurd-looking little man, and his abilities were at such tremendous
+      odds with what might have been expected of him from his looks. He could
+      ride, tramp, climb, shoot. He liked to help around the camp, and the
+      cowboys could not keep him from it. He had an insatiable desire to do
+      things that were new to him. The cowboys played innumerable tricks upon
+      him, not one of which he ever discovered. He was serious, slow in speech
+      and action, and absolutely imperturbable. If imperturbability could ever
+      be good humor, then he was always good-humored. Presently the cowboys
+      began to understand him, and then to like him. When they liked a man it
+      meant something. Madeline had been sorry more than once to see how little
+      the cowboys chose to speak to Boyd Harvey. With Castleton, however, they
+      actually became friends. They did not know it, and certainly such a thing
+      never occurred to him; all the same, it was a fact. And it grew solely out
+      of the truth that the Englishman was manly in the only way cowboys could
+      have interpreted manliness. When, after innumerable attempts, he succeeded
+      in throwing the diamond-hitch on a pack-horse the cowboys began to respect
+      him. Castleton needed only one more accomplishment to claim their hearts,
+      and he kept trying that&mdash;to ride a bucking bronco. One of the cowboys
+      had a bronco that they called Devil. Every day for a week Devil threw the
+      Englishman all over the park, ruined his clothes, bruised him, and finally
+      kicked him. Then the cowboys solicitously tried to make Castleton give up;
+      and this was remarkable enough, for the spectacle of an English lord on a
+      bucking bronco was one that any Westerner would have ridden a thousand
+      miles to see. Whenever Devil threw Castleton the cowboys went into spasms.
+      But Castleton did not know the meaning of the word fail, and there came a
+      day when Devil could not throw him. Then it was a singular sight to see
+      the men line up to shake hands with the cool Englishman. Even Stewart, who
+      had watched from the background, came forward with a warm and pleasant
+      smile on his dark face. When Castleton went to his tent there was much
+      characteristic cowboy talk, and this time vastly different from the former
+      persiflage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Gawd!&rdquo; ejaculated Monty Price, who seemed to be the most amazed and
+      elated of them all. &ldquo;Thet's the fust Englishman I ever seen! He's orful
+      deceivin' to look at, but I know now why England rules the wurrld. Jest
+      take a peek at thet bronco. His spirit is broke. Rid by a leetle English
+      dook no bigger 'n a grasshopper! Fellers, if it hain't dawned on you yit,
+      let Monty Price give you a hunch. There's no flies on Castleton. An' I'll
+      bet a million steers to a rawhide rope thet next he'll be throwin' a gun
+      as good as Nels.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a distinct pleasure for Madeline to realize that she liked
+      Castleton all the better for the traits brought out so forcibly by his
+      association with the cowboys. On the other hand, she liked the cowboys
+      better for something in them that contact with Easterners brought out.
+      This was especially true in Stewart's case. She had been wholly wrong when
+      she had imagined he would fall an easy victim to Dorothy's eyes and
+      Helen's lures. He was kind, helpful, courteous, and watchful. But he had
+      no sentiment. He did not see Dorothy's charms or feel Helen's fascination.
+      And their efforts to captivate him were now so obvious that Mrs. Beck
+      taunted them, and Edith smiled knowingly, and Bobby and Boyd made playful
+      remarks. All of which cut Helen's pride and hurt Dorothy's vanity. They
+      essayed open conquest of Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So it came about that Madeline unconsciously admitted the cowboy to a
+      place in her mind never occupied by any other. The instant it occurred to
+      her why he was proof against the wiles of the other women she drove that
+      amazing and strangely disturbing thought from her. Nevertheless, as she
+      was human, she could not help thinking and being pleased and enjoying a
+      little the discomfiture of the two coquettes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Moreover, from this thought of Stewart, and the watchfulness growing out
+      of it she discovered more about him. He was not happy; he often paced up
+      and down the grove at night; he absented himself from camp sometimes
+      during the afternoon when Nels and Nick and Monty were there; he was
+      always watching the trails, as if he expected to see some one come riding
+      up. He alone of the cowboys did not indulge in the fun and talk around the
+      camp-fire. He remained preoccupied and sad, and was always looking away
+      into distance. Madeline had a strange sense of his guardianship over her;
+      and, remembering Don Carlos, she imagined he worried a good deal over his
+      charge, and, indeed, over the safety of all the party.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But if he did worry about possible visits from wandering guerrillas, why
+      did he absent himself from camp? Suddenly into Madeline's inquisitive mind
+      flashed a remembrance of the dark-eyed Mexican girl, Bonita, who had never
+      been heard of since that night she rode Stewart's big horse out of El
+      Cajon. The remembrance of her brought an idea. Perhaps Stewart had a
+      rendezvous in the mountains, and these lonely trips of his were to meet
+      Bonita. With the idea hot blood flamed into Madeline's cheek. Then she was
+      amazed at her own feelings&mdash;amazed because her swiftest succeeding
+      thought was to deny the idea&mdash;amazed that its conception had fired
+      her cheek with shame. Then her old self, the one aloof from this
+      red-blooded new self, gained control over her emotions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Madeline found that new-born self a creature of strange power to
+      return and govern at any moment. She found it fighting loyally for what
+      intelligence and wisdom told her was only her romantic conception of a
+      cowboy. She reasoned: If Stewart were the kind of man her feminine
+      skepticism wanted to make him, he would not have been so blind to the
+      coquettish advances of Helen and Dorothy. He had once been&mdash;she did
+      not want to recall what he had once been. But he had been uplifted.
+      Madeline Hammond declared that. She was swayed by a strong, beating pride,
+      and her instinctive woman's faith told her that he could not stoop to such
+      dishonor. She reproached herself for having momentarily thought of it.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      One afternoon a huge storm-cloud swooped out of the sky and enveloped the
+      crags. It obscured the westering sun and laid a mantle of darkness over
+      the park. Madeline was uneasy because several of her party, including
+      Helen and Dorothy, had ridden off with the cowboys that afternoon and had
+      not returned. Florence assured her that even if they did not get back
+      before the storm broke there was no reason for apprehension. Nevertheless,
+      Madeline sent for Stewart and asked him to go or send some one in search
+      of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps half an hour later Madeline heard the welcome pattering of hoofs
+      on the trail. The big tent was brightly lighted by several lanterns. Edith
+      and Florence were with her. It was so black outside that Madeline could
+      not see a rod before her face. The wind was moaning in the trees, and big
+      drops of rain were pelting upon the canvas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently, just outside the door, the horses halted, and there was a sharp
+      bustle of sound, such as would naturally result from a hurried dismounting
+      and confusion in the dark. Mrs. Beck came running into the tent out of
+      breath and radiant because they had beaten the storm. Helen entered next,
+      and a little later came Dorothy, but long enough to make her entrance more
+      noticeable. The instant Madeline saw Dorothy's blazing eyes she knew
+      something unusual had happened. Whatever it was might have escaped comment
+      had not Helen caught sight of Dorothy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heavens, Dot, but you're handsome occasionally!&rdquo; remarked Helen. &ldquo;When
+      you get some life in your face and eyes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy turned her face away from the others, and perhaps it was only
+      accident that she looked into a mirror hanging on the tent wall. Swiftly
+      she put her hand up to feel a wide red welt on her cheek. Dorothy had been
+      assiduously careful of her soft, white skin, and here was an ugly mark
+      marring its beauty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at that!&rdquo; she cried, in distress. &ldquo;My complexion's ruined!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you get such a splotch?&rdquo; inquired Helen, going closer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've been kissed!&rdquo; exclaimed Dorothy, dramatically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; queried Helen, more curiously, while the others laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've been kissed&mdash;hugged and kissed by one of those shameless
+      cowboys! It was so pitch-dark outside I couldn't see a thing. And so noisy
+      I couldn't hear. But somebody was trying to help me off my horse. My foot
+      caught in the stirrup, and away I went&mdash;right into somebody's arms.
+      Then he did it, the wretch! He hugged and kissed me in a most awful
+      bearish manner. I couldn't budge a finger. I'm simply boiling with rage!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the outburst of mirth subsided Dorothy turned her big, dilated eyes
+      upon Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do these cowboys really take advantage of a girl when she's helpless and
+      in the dark?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course they do,&rdquo; replied Florence, with her frank smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dot, what in the world could you expect?&rdquo; asked Helen. &ldquo;Haven't you been
+      dying to be kissed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you acted like it, then. I never before saw you in a rage over
+      being kissed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I wouldn't care so much if the brute hadn't scoured the skin off
+      my face. He had whiskers as sharp and stiff as sandpaper. And when I
+      jerked away he rubbed my cheek with them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This revelation as to the cause of her outraged dignity almost prostrated
+      her friends with glee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dot, I agree with you; it's one thing to be kissed, and quite another to
+      have your beauty spoiled,&rdquo; replied Helen, presently. &ldquo;Who was this
+      particular savage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know!&rdquo; burst out Dorothy. &ldquo;If I did I'd&mdash;I'd&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eyes expressed the direful punishment she could not speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Honestly now, Dot, haven't you the least idea who did it?&rdquo; questioned
+      Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope&mdash;I think it was Stewart,&rdquo; replied Dorothy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Dot, your hope is father to the thought. My dear, I'm sorry to riddle
+      your little romance. Stewart did not&mdash;could not have been the
+      offender or hero.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know he couldn't?&rdquo; demanded Dorothy, flushing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because he was clean-shaven to-day at noon, before we rode out. I
+      remember perfectly how nice and smooth and brown his face looked.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, do you? Well, if your memory for faces is so good, maybe you can tell
+      me which one of these cowboys wasn't clean-shaven.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Merely a matter of elimination,&rdquo; replied Helen, merrily. &ldquo;It was not
+      Nick; it was not Nels; it was not Frankie. There was only one other cowboy
+      with us, and he had a short, stubby growth of black beard, much like that
+      cactus we passed on the trail.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I was afraid of it,&rdquo; moaned Dorothy. &ldquo;I knew he was going to do it.
+      That horrible little smiling demon, Monty Price!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      A favorite lounging-spot of Madeline's was a shaded niche under the lee of
+      crags facing the east. Here the outlook was entirely different from that
+      on the western side. It was not red and white and glaring, nor so
+      changeable that it taxed attention. This eastern view was one of the
+      mountains and valleys, where, to be sure, there were arid patches; but the
+      restful green of pine and fir was there, and the cool gray of crags. Bold
+      and rugged indeed were these mountain features, yet they were
+      companionably close, not immeasurably distant and unattainable like the
+      desert. Here in the shade of afternoon Madeline and Edith would often
+      lounge under a low-branched tree. Seldom they talked much, for it was
+      afternoon and dreamy with the strange spell of this mountain fastness.
+      There was smoky haze in the valleys, a fleecy cloud resting over the
+      peaks, a sailing eagle in the blue sky, silence that was the unbroken
+      silence of the wild heights, and a soft wind laden with incense of pine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One afternoon, however, Edith appeared prone to talk seriously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty, I must go home soon. I cannot stay out here forever. Are you
+      going back with me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, maybe,&rdquo; replied Madeline, thoughtfully. &ldquo;I have considered it. I
+      shall have to visit home some time. But this summer mother and father are
+      going to Europe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See here, Majesty Hammond, do you intend to spend the rest of your life
+      in this wilderness?&rdquo; asked Edith, bluntly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is glorious! Don't misunderstand me, dear,&rdquo; went on Edith,
+      earnestly, as she laid her hand on Madeline's. &ldquo;This trip has been a
+      revelation to me. I did not tell you, Majesty, that I was ill when I
+      arrived. Now I'm well. So well! Look at Helen, too. Why, she was a ghost
+      when we got here. Now she is brown and strong and beautiful. If it were
+      for nothing else than this wonderful gift of health I would love the West.
+      But I have come to love it for other things&mdash;even spiritual things.
+      Majesty, I have been studying you. I see and feel what this life has made
+      of you. When I came I wondered at your strength, your virility, your
+      serenity, your happiness. And I was stunned. I wondered at the causes of
+      your change. Now I know. You were sick of idleness, sick of uselessness,
+      if not of society&mdash;sick of the horrible noises and smells and
+      contacts one can no longer escape in the cities. I am sick of all that,
+      too, and I could tell you many women of our kind who suffer in a like
+      manner. You have done what many of us want to do, but have not the
+      courage. You have left it. I am not blind to the splendid difference you
+      have made in your life. I think I would have discovered, even if your
+      brother had not told me, what good you have done to the Mexicans and
+      cattlemen of your range. Then you have work to do. That is much the secret
+      of your happiness, is it not? Tell me. Tell me something of what it means
+      to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Work, of course, has much to do with any one's happiness,&rdquo; replied
+      Madeline. &ldquo;No one can be happy who has no work. As regards myself&mdash;for
+      the rest I can hardly tell you. I have never tried to put it in words.
+      Frankly, I believe, if I had not had money that I could not have found
+      such contentment here. That is not in any sense a judgment against the
+      West. But if I had been poor I could not have bought and maintained my
+      ranch. Stillwell tells me there are many larger ranches than mine, but
+      none just like it. Then I am almost paying my expenses out of my business.
+      Think of that! My income, instead of being wasted, is mostly saved. I
+      think&mdash;I hope I am useful. I have been of some little good to the
+      Mexicans&mdash;eased the hardships of a few cowboys. For the rest, I think
+      my life is a kind of dream. Of course my ranch and range are real, my
+      cowboys are typical. If I were to tell you how I feel about them it would
+      simply be a story of how Madeline Hammond sees the West. They are true to
+      the West. It is I who am strange, and what I feel for them may be strange,
+      too. Edith, hold to your own impressions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Majesty, my impressions have changed. At first I did not like the
+      wind, the dust, the sun, the endless open stretches. But now I do like
+      them. Where once I saw only terrible wastes of barren ground now I see
+      beauty and something noble. Then, at first, your cowboys struck me as
+      dirty, rough, loud, crude, savage&mdash;all that was primitive. I did not
+      want them near me. I imagined them callous, hard men, their only joy a
+      carouse with their kind. But I was wrong. I have changed. The dirt was
+      only dust, and this desert dust is clean. They are still rough, loud,
+      crude, and savage in my eyes, but with a difference. They are natural men.
+      They are little children. Monty Price is one of nature's noblemen. The
+      hard thing is to discover it. All his hideous person, all his actions and
+      speech, are masks of his real nature. Nels is a joy, a simple, sweet,
+      kindly, quiet man whom some woman should have loved. What would love have
+      meant to him! He told me that no woman ever loved him except his mother,
+      and he lost her when he was ten. Every man ought to be loved&mdash;especially
+      such a man as Nels. Somehow his gun record does not impress me. I never
+      could believe he killed a man. Then take your foreman, Stewart. He is a
+      cowboy, his work and life the same as the others. But he has education and
+      most of the graces we are in the habit of saying make a gentleman. Stewart
+      is a strange fellow, just like this strange country. He's a man, Majesty,
+      and I admire him. So, you see, my impressions are developing with my stay
+      out here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Edith, I am so glad you told me that,&rdquo; replied Madeline, warmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I like the country, and I like the men,&rdquo; went on Edith. &ldquo;One reason I
+      want to go home soon is because I am discontented enough at home now,
+      without falling in love with the West. For, of course, Majesty, I would. I
+      could not live out here. And that brings me to my point. Admitting all the
+      beauty and charm and wholesomeness and good of this wonderful country,
+      still it is no place for you, Madeline Hammond. You have your position,
+      your wealth, your name, your family. You must marry. You must have
+      children. You must not give up all that for a quixotic life in a
+      wilderness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am convinced, Edith, that I shall live here all the rest of my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Majesty! I hate to preach this way. But I promised your mother I
+      would talk to you. And the truth is I hate&mdash;I hate what I'm saying. I
+      envy you your courage and wisdom. I know you have refused to marry Boyd
+      Harvey. I could see that in his face. I believe you will refuse Castleton.
+      Whom will you marry? What chance is there for a woman of your position to
+      marry out here? What in the world will become of you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quien sabe?&rdquo; replied Madeline, with a smile that was almost sad.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      Not so many hours after this conversation with Edith, Madeline sat with
+      Boyd Harvey upon the grassy promontory overlooking the west, and she
+      listened once again to his suave courtship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly she turned to him and said, &ldquo;Boyd, if I married you would you be
+      willing&mdash;glad to spend the rest of your life here in the West?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty!&rdquo; he exclaimed. There was amaze in the voice usually so even and
+      well modulated&mdash;amaze in the handsome face usually so indifferent.
+      Her question had startled him. She saw him look down the iron-gray cliffs,
+      over the barren slopes and cedared ridges, beyond the cactus-covered
+      foothills to the grim and ghastly desert. Just then, with its red veils of
+      sunlit dust-clouds, its illimitable waste of ruined and upheaved earth, it
+      was a sinister spectacle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied, with a tinge of shame in his cheek. Madeline said no
+      more, nor did he speak. She was spared the pain of refusing him, and she
+      imagined he would never ask her again. There was both relief and regret in
+      the conviction. Humiliated lovers seldom made good friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was impossible not to like Boyd Harvey. The thought of that, and why
+      she could not marry him, concentrated her never-satisfied mind upon the
+      man. She looked at him, and she thought of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was handsome, young, rich, well born, pleasant, cultivated&mdash;he was
+      all that made a gentleman of his class. If he had any vices she had not
+      heard of them. She knew he had no thirst for drink or craze for gambling.
+      He was considered a very desirable and eligible young man. Madeline
+      admitted all this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she thought of things that were perhaps exclusively her own strange
+      ideas. Boyd Harvey's white skin did not tan even in this southwestern sun
+      and wind. His hands were whiter than her own, and as soft. They were
+      really beautiful, and she remembered what care he took of them. They were
+      a proof that he never worked. His frame was tall, graceful, elegant. It
+      did not bear evidence of ruggedness. He had never indulged in a sport more
+      strenuous than yachting. He hated effort and activity. He rode horseback
+      very little, disliked any but moderate motoring, spent much time in
+      Newport and Europe, never walked when he could help it, and had no
+      ambition unless it were to pass the days pleasantly. If he ever had any
+      sons they would be like him, only a generation more toward the inevitable
+      extinction of his race.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline returned to camp in just the mood to make a sharp, deciding
+      contrast. It happened&mdash;fatefully, perhaps&mdash;that the first man
+      she saw was Stewart. He had just ridden into camp, and as she came up he
+      explained that he had gone down to the ranch for the important mail about
+      which she had expressed anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Down and back in one day!&rdquo; she exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;It wasn't so bad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why did you not send one of the boys, and let him make the regular
+      two-day trip?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were worried about your mail,&rdquo; he answered, briefly, as he delivered
+      it. Then he bent to examine the fetlocks of his weary horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was midsummer now, Madeline reflected and exceedingly hot and dusty on
+      the lower trail. Stewart had ridden down the mountain and back again in
+      twelve hours. Probably no horse in the outfit, except his big black or
+      Majesty, could have stood that trip. And his horse showed the effects of a
+      grueling day. He was caked with dust and lame and weary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart looked as if he had spared the horse his weight on many a mile of
+      that rough ascent. His boots were evidence of it. His heavy flannel shirt,
+      wet through with perspiration, adhered closely to his shoulders and arms,
+      so that every ripple of muscle plainly showed. His face was black, except
+      round the temples and forehead, where it was bright red. Drops of sweat,
+      running off his blackened hands dripped to the ground. He got up from
+      examining the lame foot, and then threw off the saddle. The black horse
+      snorted and lunged for the watering-pool. Stewart let him drink a little,
+      then with iron arms dragged him away. In this action the man's lithe,
+      powerful form impressed Madeline with a wonderful sense of muscular force.
+      His brawny wrist was bare; his big, strong hand, first clutching the
+      horse's mane, then patting his neck, had a bruised knuckle, and one finger
+      was bound up. That hand expressed as much gentleness and thoughtfulness
+      for the horse as it had strength to drag him back from too much drinking
+      at a dangerous moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart was a combination of fire, strength, and action. These attributes
+      seemed to cling about him. There was something vital and compelling in his
+      presence. Worn and spent and drawn as he was from the long ride, he
+      thrilled Madeline with his potential youth and unused vitality and promise
+      of things to be, red-blooded deeds, both of flesh and spirit. In him she
+      saw the strength of his forefathers unimpaired. The life in him was
+      marvelously significant. The dust, the dirt, the sweat, the soiled
+      clothes, the bruised and bandaged hand, the brawn and bone&mdash;these had
+      not been despised by the knights of ancient days, nor by modern women
+      whose eyes shed soft light upon coarse and bloody toilers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline Hammond compared the man of the East with the man of the West;
+      and that comparison was the last parting regret for her old standards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVII. The Lost Mine of the Padres
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      In the cool, starry evenings the campers sat around a blazing fire and
+      told and listened to stories thrillingly fitted to the dark crags and the
+      wild solitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty Price had come to shine brilliantly as a storyteller. He was an
+      atrocious liar, but this fact would not have been evident to his
+      enthralled listeners if his cowboy comrades, in base jealousy, had not
+      betrayed him. The truth about his remarkable fabrications, however, had
+      not become known to Castleton, solely because of the Englishman's
+      obtuseness. And there was another thing much stranger than this and quite
+      as amusing. Dorothy Coombs knew Monty was a liar; but she was so
+      fascinated by the glittering, basilisk eyes he riveted upon her, so taken
+      in by his horrible tales of blood, that despite her knowledge she could
+      not help believing them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Manifestly Monty was very proud of his suddenly acquired gift. Formerly he
+      had hardly been known to open his lips in the presence of strangers. Monty
+      had developed more than one singular and hitherto unknown trait since his
+      supremacy at golf had revealed his possibilities. He was as sober and vain
+      and pompous about his capacity for lying as about anything else. Some of
+      the cowboys were jealous of him because he held the attention and,
+      apparently, the admiration of the ladies; and Nels was jealous, not
+      because Monty made himself out to be a wonderful gun-man, but because
+      Monty could tell a story. Nels really had been the hero of a hundred
+      fights; he had never been known to talk about them; but Dorothy's eyes and
+      Helen's smile had somehow upset his modesty. Whenever Monty would begin to
+      talk Nels would growl and knock his pipe on a log, and make it appear he
+      could not stay and listen, though he never really left the charmed circle
+      of the camp-fire. Wild horses could not have dragged him away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One evening at twilight, as Madeline was leaving her tent, she encountered
+      Monty. Evidently, he had way-laid her. With the most mysterious of signs
+      and whispers he led her a little aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, I'm makin' bold to ask a favor of you,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline smiled her willingness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-night, when they've all shot off their chins an' it's quiet-like, I
+      want you to ask me, jest this way, 'Monty, seein' as you've hed more
+      adventures than all them cow-punchers put together, tell us about the most
+      turrible time you ever hed.' Will you ask me, Miss Hammond, jest kinda
+      sincere like?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly I will, Monty,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His dark, seared face had no more warmth than a piece of cold, volcanic
+      rock, which it resembled. Madeline appreciated how monstrous Dorothy found
+      this burned and distorted visage, how deformed the little man looked to a
+      woman of refined sensibilities. It was difficult for Madeline to look into
+      his face. But she saw behind the blackened mask. And now she saw in
+      Monty's deep eyes a spirit of pure fun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So, true to her word, Madeline remembered at an opportune moment, when
+      conversation had hushed and only the long, dismal wail of coyotes broke
+      the silence, to turn toward the little cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monty,&rdquo; she said, and paused for effect&mdash;&ldquo;Monty, seeing that you
+      have had more adventures than all the cowboys together, tell us about the
+      most terrible time you ever had.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty appeared startled at the question that fastened all eyes upon him.
+      He waved a deprecatory hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aw, Miss Hammond, thankin' you all modest-like fer the compliment, I'll
+      hev to refuse,&rdquo; replied Monty, laboring in distress. &ldquo;It's too harrowin'
+      fer tender-hearted gurls to listen to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go on?&rdquo; cried everybody except the cowboys. Nels began to nod his head as
+      if he, as well as Monty, understood human nature. Dorothy hugged her knees
+      with a kind of shudder. Monty had fastened the hypnotic eyes upon her.
+      Castleton ceased smoking, adjusted his eyeglass, and prepared to listen in
+      great earnestness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty changed his seat to one where the light from the blazing logs fell
+      upon his face; and he appeared plunged into melancholy and profound
+      thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now I tax myself, I can't jest decide which was the orfulest time I ever
+      hed,&rdquo; he said, reflectively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Nels blew forth an immense cloud of smoke, as if he desired to hide
+      himself from sight. Monty pondered, and then when the smoke rolled away he
+      turned to Nels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See hyar, old pard, me an' you seen somethin' of each other in the
+      Panhandle, more 'n thirty years ago&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which we didn't,&rdquo; interrupted Nels, bluntly. &ldquo;Shore you can't make me out
+      an ole man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mebbe it wasn't so darn long. Anyhow, Nels, you recollect them three
+      hoss-thieves I hung all on one cottonwood-tree, an' likewise thet
+      boo-tiful blond gurl I rescooed from a band of cutthroats who murdered her
+      paw, ole Bill Warren, the buffalo-hunter? Now, which of them two scraps
+      was the turriblest, in your idee?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monty, my memory's shore bad,&rdquo; replied the unimpeachable Nels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell us about the beautiful blonde,&rdquo; cried at least three of the ladies.
+      Dorothy, who had suffered from nightmare because of a former story of
+      hanging men on trees, had voicelessly appealed to Monty to spare her more
+      of that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, we'll hev the blond gurl,&rdquo; said Monty, settling back, &ldquo;though
+      I ain't thinkin' her story is most turrible of the two, an' it'll rake
+      over tender affections long slumberin' in my breast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he paused there came a sharp, rapping sound. This appeared to be Nels
+      knocking the ashes out of his pipe on a stump&mdash;a true indication of
+      the passing of content from that jealous cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was down in the Panhandle, 'way over in the west end of thet Comanche
+      huntin'-ground, an' all the redskins an' outlaws in thet country were
+      hidin' in the river-bottoms, an' chasin' some of the last buffalo herds
+      thet hed wintered in there. I was a young buck them days, an' purty much
+      of a desperado, I'm thinkin'. Though of all the seventeen notches on my
+      gun&mdash;an' each notch meant a man killed face to face&mdash;there was
+      only one thet I was ashamed of. Thet one was fer an express messenger who
+      I hit on the head most unprofessional like, jest because he wouldn't hand
+      over a leetle package. I hed the kind of a reputashun thet made all the
+      fellers in saloons smile an' buy drinks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I dropped into a place named Taylor's Bend, an' was peaceful
+      standin' to the bar when three cow-punchers come in, an', me bein' with my
+      back turned, they didn't recognize me an' got playful. I didn't stop
+      drinkin', an' I didn't turn square round; but when I stopped shootin'
+      under my arm the saloon-keeper hed to go over to the sawmill an' fetch a
+      heap of sawdust to cover up what was left of them three cow-punchers,
+      after they was hauled out. You see, I was rough them days, an' would shoot
+      ears off an' noses off an' hands off; when in later days I'd jest kill a
+      man quick, same as Wild Bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;News drifts into town thet night thet a gang of cut-throats hed murdered
+      ole Bill Warren an' carried off his gurl. I gathers up a few good gun-men,
+      an' we rid out an' down the river-bottom, to an ole log cabin, where the
+      outlaws hed a rondevoo. We rid up boldlike, an' made a hell of a racket.
+      Then the gang began to throw lead from the cabin, an' we all hunted cover.
+      Fightin' went on all night. In the mornin' all my outfit was killed but
+      two, an' they was shot up bad. We fought all day without eatin' or
+      drinkin', except some whisky I hed, an' at night I was on the job by my
+      lonesome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bein' bunged up some myself, I laid off an' went down to the river to
+      wash the blood off, tie up my wounds, an' drink a leetle. While I was down
+      there along comes one of the cutthroats with a bucket. Instead of gettin'
+      water he got lead, an' as he was about to croak he tells me a whole bunch
+      of outlaws was headin' in there, doo to-morrer. An' if I wanted to rescoo
+      the gurl I hed to be hurryin'. There was five fellers left in the cabin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I went back to the thicket where I hed left my hoss, an' loaded up with
+      two more guns an' another belt, an' busted a fresh box of shells. If I
+      recollect proper, I got some cigarettes, too. Well, I mozied back to the
+      cabin. It was a boo-tiful moonshiny night, an' I wondered if ole Bill's
+      gun was as purty as I'd heerd. The grass growed long round the cabin, an'
+      I crawled up to the door without startin' anythin'. Then I figgered. There
+      was only one door in thet cabin, an' it was black dark inside. I jest
+      grabbed open the door an' slipped in quick. It worked all right. They
+      heerd me, but hedn't been quick enough to ketch me in the light of the
+      door. Of course there was some shots, but I ducked too quick, an' changed
+      my position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ladies an' gentlemen, thet there was some dool by night. An' I wasn't
+      often in the place where they shot. I was most wonderful patient, an' jest
+      waited until one of them darned ruffians would get so nervous he'd hev to
+      hunt me up. When mornin' come there they was all piled up on the floor,
+      all shot to pieces. I found the gurl. Purty! Say, she was boo-tiful. We
+      went down to the river, where she begun to bathe my wounds. I'd collected
+      a dozen more or so, an' the sight of tears in her lovely eyes, an' my
+      blood a-stainin' of her little hands, jest nat'rally wakened a trembly
+      spell in my heart. I seen she was took the same way, an' thet settled it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We was comin' up from the river, an' I hed jest straddled my hoss, with
+      the gurl behind, when we run right into thet cutthroat gang thet was doo
+      about then. Bein' some handicapped, I couldn't drop more 'n one gun-round
+      of them, an' then I hed to slope. The whole gang follered me, an' some
+      miles out chased me over a ridge right into a big herd of buffalo. Before
+      I knowed what was what thet herd broke into a stampede, with me in the
+      middle. Purty soon the buffalo closed in tight. I knowed I was in some
+      peril then. But the gurl trusted me somethin' pitiful. I seen again thet
+      she hed fell in love with me. I could tell from the way she hugged me an'
+      yelled. Before long I was some put to it to keep my hoss on his feet. Far
+      as I could see was dusty, black, bobbin', shaggy humps. A huge cloud of
+      dust went along over our heads. The roar of tramplin' hoofs was turrible.
+      My hoss weakened, went down, an' was carried along a leetle while I
+      slipped off with the gurl on to the backs of the buffalo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ladies, I ain't denyin' that then Monty Price was some scairt. Fust time
+      in my life! But the trustin' face of thet boo-tiful gurl, as she lay in my
+      arms an' hugged me an' yelled, made my spirit leap like a shootin' star. I
+      just began to jump from buffalo to buffalo. I must hev jumped a mile of
+      them bobbin' backs before I come to open places. An' here's where I
+      performed the greatest stunts of my life. I hed on my big spurs, an' I
+      jest sit down an' rid an' spurred till thet pertickler buffalo I was on
+      got near another, an' then I'd flop over. Thusly I got to the edge of the
+      herd, tumbled off'n the last one, an' rescooed the gurl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, as my memory takes me back, thet was a most affectin' walk home to
+      the little town where she lived. But she wasn't troo to me, an' married
+      another feller. I was too much a sport to kill him. But thet low-down
+      trick rankled in my breast. Gurls is strange. I've never stopped wonderin'
+      how any gurl who has been hugged an' kissed by one man could marry
+      another. But matoor experience teaches me thet sich is the case.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboys roared; Helen and Mrs. Beck and Edith laughed till they cried;
+      Madeline found repression absolutely impossible; Dorothy sat hugging her
+      knees, her horror at the story no greater than at Monty's unmistakable
+      reference to her and to the fickleness of women; and Castleton for the
+      first time appeared to be moved out of his imperturbability, though not in
+      any sense by humor. Indeed, when he came to notice it, he was dumfounded
+      by the mirth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Jove! you Americans are an extraordinary people,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I don't
+      see anything blooming funny in Mr. Price's story of his adventure. By
+      Jove! that was a bally warm occasion. Mr. Price, when you speak of being
+      frightened for the only time in your life, I appreciate what you mean. I
+      have experienced that. I was frightened once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dook, I wouldn't hev thought it of you,&rdquo; replied Monty. &ldquo;I'm sure
+      tolerable curious to hear about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline and her friends dared not break the spell, for fear that the
+      Englishman might hold to his usual modest reticence. He had explored in
+      Brazil, seen service in the Boer War, hunted in India and Africa&mdash;matters
+      of experience of which he never spoke. Upon this occasion, however,
+      evidently taking Monty's recital word for word as literal truth, and
+      excited by it into a Homeric mood, he might tell a story. The cowboys
+      almost fell upon their knees in their importunity. There was a suppressed
+      eagerness in their solicitations, a hint of something that meant more than
+      desire, great as it was, to hear a story told by an English lord. Madeline
+      divined instantly that the cowboys had suddenly fancied that Castleton was
+      not the dense and easily fooled person they had made such game of; that he
+      had played his part well; that he was having fun at their expense; that he
+      meant to tell a story, a lie which would simply dwarf Monty's. Nels's
+      keen, bright expectation suggested how he would welcome the joke turned
+      upon Monty. The slow closing of Monty's cavernous smile, the gradual
+      sinking of his proud bearing, the doubt with which he began to regard
+      Castleton&mdash;these were proofs of his fears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have faced charging tigers and elephants in India, and charging rhinos
+      and lions in Africa,&rdquo; began Castleton, his quick and fluent speech so
+      different from the drawl of his ordinary conversation; &ldquo;but I never was
+      frightened but once. It will not do to hunt those wild beasts if you are
+      easily balled up. This adventure I have in mind happened in British East
+      Africa, in Uganda. I was out with safari, and we were in a native district
+      much infested by man-eating lions. Perhaps I may as well state that
+      man-eaters are very different from ordinary lions. They are always matured
+      beasts, and sometimes&mdash;indeed, mostly&mdash;are old. They become
+      man-eaters most likely by accident or necessity. When old they find it
+      more difficult to make a kill, being slower, probably, and with poorer
+      teeth. Driven by hunger, they stalk and kill a native, and, once having
+      tasted human blood, they want no other. They become absolutely fearless
+      and terrible in their attacks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The natives of this village near where we camped were in a terrorized
+      state owing to depredations of two or more man-eaters. The night of our
+      arrival a lion leaped a stockade fence, seized a native from among others
+      sitting round a fire, and leaped out again, carrying the screaming fellow
+      away into the darkness. I determined to kill these lions, and made a
+      permanent camp in the village for that purpose. By day I sent beaters into
+      the brush and rocks of the river-valley, and by night I watched. Every
+      night the lions visited us, but I did not see one. I discovered that when
+      they roared around the camp they were not so liable to attack as when they
+      were silent. It was indeed remarkable how silently they could stalk a man.
+      They could creep through a thicket so dense you would not believe a rabbit
+      could get through, and do it without the slightest sound. Then, when ready
+      to charge, they did so with terrible onslaught and roar. They leaped right
+      into a circle of fires, tore down huts, even dragged natives from the low
+      trees. There was no way to tell at which point they would make an attack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After ten days or more of this I was worn out by loss of sleep. And one
+      night, when tired out with watching, I fell asleep. My gun-bearer was
+      alone in the tent with me. A terrible roar awakened me, then an unearthly
+      scream pierced right into my ears. I always slept with my rifle in my
+      hands, and, grasping it, I tried to rise. But I could not for the reason
+      that a lion was standing over me. Then I lay still. The screams of my
+      gun-bearer told me that the lion had him. I was fond of this fellow and
+      wanted to save him. I thought it best, however, not to move while the lion
+      stood over me. Suddenly he stepped, and I felt poor Luki's feet dragging
+      across me. He screamed, 'Save me, master!' And instinctively I grasped at
+      him and caught his foot. The lion walked out of the tent dragging me as I
+      held to Luki's foot. The night was bright moonlight. I could see the lion
+      distinctly. He was a huge, black-maned brute, and he held Luki by the
+      shoulder. The poor lad kept screaming frightfully. The man-eater must have
+      dragged me forty yards before he became aware of a double incumbrance to
+      his progress. Then he halted and turned. By Jove! he made a devilish
+      fierce object with his shaggy, massive head, his green-fire eyes, and his
+      huge jaws holding Luki. I let go of Luki's foot and bethought myself of
+      the gun. But as I lay there on my side, before attempting to rise, I made
+      a horrible discovery. I did not have my rifle at all. I had Luki's iron
+      spear, which he always had near him. My rifle had slipped out of the
+      hollow of my arm, and when the lion awakened me, in my confusion I picked
+      up Luki's spear instead. The bloody brute dropped Luki and uttered a roar
+      that shook the ground. It was then I felt frightened. For an instant I was
+      almost paralyzed. The lion meant to charge, and in one spring he could
+      reach me. Under circumstances like those a man can think many things in
+      little time. I knew to try to run would be fatal. I remembered how
+      strangely lions had been known to act upon occasion. One had been
+      frightened by an umbrella; one had been frightened by a blast from a
+      cow-horn; another had been frightened by a native who in running from one
+      lion ran right at the other which he had not seen. Accordingly, I wondered
+      if I could frighten the lion that meant to leap at me. Acting upon wild
+      impulse, I prodded him in the hind quarters with the spear. Ladies and
+      gentlemen, I am a blooming idiot if that lion did not cower like a whipped
+      dog, put his tail down, and begin to slink away. Quick to see my chance, I
+      jumped up yelling, and made after him, prodding him again. He let out a
+      bellow such as you could imagine would come from an outraged king of
+      beasts. I prodded again, and then he loped off. I found Luki not badly
+      hurt. In fact, he got well. But I've never forgotten that scare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Castleton finished his narrative there was a trenchant silence. All
+      eyes were upon Monty. He looked beaten, disgraced, a disgusted man. Yet
+      there shone from his face a wonderful admiration for Castleton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dook, you win!&rdquo; he said; and, dropping his head, he left the camp-fire
+      circle with the manner of a deposed emperor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the cowboys exploded. The quiet, serene, low-voiced Nels yelled like
+      a madman and he stood upon his head. All the other cowboys went through
+      marvelous contortions. Mere noise was insufficient to relieve their joy at
+      what they considered the fall and humiliation of the tyrant Monty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman stood there and watched them in amused consternation. They
+      baffled his understanding. Plain it was to Madeline and her friends that
+      Castleton had told the simple truth. But never on the earth, or anywhere
+      else, could Nels and his comrades have been persuaded that Castleton had
+      not lied deliberately to humble their great exponent of Ananias.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Everybody seemed reluctant to break the camp-fire spell. The logs had
+      burned out to a great heap of opal and gold and red coals, in the heart of
+      which quivered a glow alluring to the spirit of dreams. As the blaze
+      subsided the shadows of the pines encroached darker and darker upon the
+      circle of fading light. A cool wind fanned the embers, whipped up flakes
+      of white ashes, and moaned through the trees. The wild yelps of coyotes
+      were dying in the distance, and the sky was a wonderful dark-blue dome
+      spangled with white stars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a perfect night!&rdquo; said Madeline. &ldquo;This is a night to understand the
+      dream, the mystery, the wonder of the Southwest. Florence, for long you
+      have promised to tell us the story of the lost mine of the padres. It will
+      give us all pleasure, make us understand something of the thrall in which
+      this land held the Spaniards who discovered it so many years ago. It will
+      be especially interesting now, because this mountain hides somewhere under
+      its crags the treasures of the lost mine of the padres.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the sixteenth century,&rdquo; Florence began, in her soft, slow voice so
+      suited to the nature of the legend, &ldquo;a poor young padre of New Spain was
+      shepherding his goats upon a hill when the Virgin appeared before him. He
+      prostrated himself at her feet, and when he looked up she was gone. But
+      upon the maguey plant near where she had stood there were golden ashes of
+      a strange and wonderful substance. He took the incident as a good omen and
+      went again to the hilltop. Under the maguey had sprung up slender stalks
+      of white, bearing delicate gold flowers, and as these flowers waved in the
+      wind a fine golden dust, as fine as powdered ashes, blew away toward the
+      north. Padre Juan was mystified, but believed that great fortune attended
+      upon him and his poor people. So he went again and again to the hilltop in
+      hope that the Virgin would appear to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One morning, as the sun rose gloriously, he looked across the windy hill
+      toward the waving grass and golden flowers under the maguey, and he saw
+      the Virgin beckoning to him. Again he fell upon his knees; but she lifted
+      him and gave him of the golden flowers, and bade him leave his home and
+      people to follow where these blowing golden ashes led. There he would find
+      gold&mdash;pure gold&mdash;wonderful fortune to bring back to his poor
+      people to build a church for them, and a city.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre Juan took the flowers and left his home, promising to return, and
+      he traveled northward over the hot and dusty desert, through the mountain
+      passes, to a new country where fierce and warlike Indians menaced his
+      life. He was gentle and good, and of a persuasive speech. Moreover, he was
+      young and handsome of person. The Indians were Apaches, and among them he
+      became a missionary, while always he was searching for the flowers of
+      gold. He heard of gold lying in pebbles upon the mountain slopes, but he
+      never found any. A few of the Apaches he converted; the most of them,
+      however, were prone to be hostile to him and his religion. But Padre Juan
+      prayed and worked on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There came a time when the old Apache chief, imagining the padre had
+      designs upon his influence with the tribe, sought to put him to death by
+      fire. The chief's daughter, a beautiful, dark-eyed maiden, secretly loved
+      Juan and believed in his mission, and she interceded for his life and
+      saved him. Juan fell in love with her. One day she came to him wearing
+      golden flowers in her dark hair, and as the wind blew the flowers a golden
+      dust blew upon it. Juan asked her where to find such flowers, and she told
+      him that upon a certain day she would take him to the mountain to look for
+      them. And upon the day she led up to the mountain-top from which they
+      could see beautiful valleys and great trees and cool waters. There at the
+      top of a wonderful slope that looked down upon the world, she showed Juan
+      the flowers. And Juan found gold in such abundance that he thought he
+      would go out of his mind. Dust of gold! Grains of gold! Pebbles of gold!
+      Rocks of gold! He was rich beyond all dreams. He remembered the Virgin and
+      her words. He must return to his people and build their church, and the
+      great city that would bear his name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Juan tarried. Always he was going manana. He loved the dark-eyed
+      Apache girl so well that he could not leave her. He hated himself for his
+      infidelity to his Virgin, to his people. He was weak and false, a sinner.
+      But he could not go, and he gave himself up to love of the Indian maiden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The old Apache chief discovered the secret love of his daughter and the
+      padre. And, fierce in his anger, he took her up into the mountains and
+      burned her alive and cast her ashes upon the wind. He did not kill Padre
+      Juan. He was too wise, and perhaps too cruel, for he saw the strength of
+      Juan's love. Besides, many of his tribe had learned much from the
+      Spaniard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre Juan fell into despair. He had no desire to live. He faded and
+      wasted away. But before he died he went to the old Indians who had burned
+      the maiden, and he begged them, when he was dead, to burn his body and to
+      cast his ashes to the wind from that wonderful slope, where they would
+      blow away to mingle forever with those of his Indian sweetheart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Indians promised, and when Padre Juan died they burned his body and
+      took his ashes to the mountain heights and cast them to the wind, where
+      they drifted and fell to mix with the ashes of the Indian girl he had
+      loved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Years passed. More padres traveled across the desert to the home of the
+      Apaches, and they heard the story of Juan. Among their number was a padre
+      who in his youth had been one of Juan's people. He set forth to find
+      Juan's grave, where he believed he would also find the gold. And he came
+      back with pebbles of gold and flowers that shed a golden dust, and he told
+      a wonderful story. He had climbed and climbed into the mountains, and he
+      had come to a wonderful slope under the crags. That slope was yellow with
+      golden flowers. When he touched them golden ashes drifted from them and
+      blew down among the rocks. There the padre found dust of gold, grains of
+      gold, pebbles of gold, rocks of gold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then all the padres went into the mountains. But the discoverer of the
+      mine lost his way. They searched and searched until they were old and
+      gray, but never found the wonderful slope and flowers that marked the
+      grave and the mine of Padre Juan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the succeeding years the story was handed down from father to son. But
+      of the many who hunted for the lost mine of the padres there was never a
+      Mexican or an Apache. For the Apache the mountain slopes were haunted by
+      the spirit of an Indian maiden who had been false to her tribe and forever
+      accursed. For the Mexican the mountain slopes were haunted by the spirit
+      of the false padre who rolled stones upon the heads of those adventurers
+      who sought to find his grave and his accursed gold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVIII. Bonita
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Florence's story of the lost mine fired Madeline's guests with the fever
+      for gold-hunting. But after they had tried it a few times and the glamour
+      of the thing wore off they gave up and remained in camp. Having exhausted
+      all the resources of the mountain, such that had interest for them, they
+      settled quietly down for a rest, which Madeline knew would soon end in a
+      desire for civilized comforts. They were almost tired of roughing it.
+      Helen's discontent manifested itself in her remark, &ldquo;I guess nothing is
+      going to happen, after all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline awaited their pleasure in regard to the breaking of camp; and
+      meanwhile, as none of them cared for more exertion, she took her walks
+      without them, sometimes accompanied by one of the cowboys, always by the
+      stag-hounds. These walks furnished her exceeding pleasure. And, now that
+      the cowboys would talk to her without reserve, she grew fonder of
+      listening to their simple stories. The more she knew of them the more she
+      doubted the wisdom of shut-in lives. Companionship with Nels and most of
+      the cowboys was in its effect like that of the rugged pines and crags and
+      the untainted wind. Humor, their predominant trait when a person grew to
+      know them, saved Madeline from finding their hardness trying. They were
+      dreamers, as all men who lived lonely lives in the wilds were dreamers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboys all had secrets. Madeline learned some of them. She marveled
+      most at the strange way in which they hid emotions, except of violence of
+      mirth and temper so easily aroused. It was all the more remarkable in view
+      of the fact that they felt intensely over little things to which men of
+      the world were blind and dead. Madeline had to believe that a hard and
+      perilous life in a barren and wild country developed great principles in
+      men. Living close to earth, under the cold, bleak peaks, on the
+      dust-veiled desert, men grew like the nature that developed them&mdash;hard,
+      fierce, terrible, perhaps, but big&mdash;big with elemental force.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But one day, while out walking alone, before she realized it she had gone
+      a long way down a dim trail winding among the rocks. It was the middle of
+      a summer afternoon, and all about her were shadows of the crags crossing
+      the sunlit patches. The quiet was undisturbed. She went on and on, not
+      blind to the fact that she was perhaps going too far from camp, but
+      risking it because she was sure of her way back, and enjoying the wild,
+      craggy recesses that were new to her. Finally she came out upon a bank
+      that broke abruptly into a beautiful little glade. Here she sat down to
+      rest before undertaking the return trip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Russ, the keener of the stag-hounds, raised his head and growled.
+      Madeline feared he might have scented a mountain-lion or wildcat. She
+      quieted him and carefully looked around. To each side was an irregular
+      line of massive blocks of stone that had weathered from the crags. The
+      little glade was open and grassy, with here a pine-tree, there a boulder.
+      The outlet seemed to go down into a wilderness of canyons and ridges.
+      Looking in this direction, Madeline saw the slight, dark figure of a woman
+      coming stealthily along under the pines. Madeline was amazed, then a
+      little frightened, for that stealthy walk from tree to tree was suggestive
+      of secrecy, if nothing worse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the woman was joined by a tall man who carried a package, which
+      he gave to her. They came on up the glade and appeared to be talking
+      earnestly. In another moment Madeline recognized Stewart. She had no
+      greater feeling of surprise than had at first been hers. But for the next
+      moment she scarcely thought at all&mdash;merely watched the couple
+      approaching. In a flash came back her former curiosity as to Stewart's
+      strange absences from camp, and then with the return of her doubt of him
+      the recognition of the woman. The small, dark head, the brown face, the
+      big eyes&mdash;Madeline now saw distinctly&mdash;belonged to the Mexican
+      girl Bonita. Stewart had met her there. This was the secret of his lonely
+      trips, taken ever since he had come to work for Madeline. This secluded
+      glade was a rendezvous. He had her hidden there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Quietly Madeline arose, with a gesture to the dogs, and went back along
+      the trail toward camp. Succeeding her surprise was a feeling of sorrow
+      that Stewart's regeneration had not been complete. Sorrow gave place to
+      insufferable distrust that while she had been romancing about this cowboy,
+      dreaming of her good influence over him, he had been merely base. Somehow
+      it stung her. Stewart had been nothing to her, she thought, yet she had
+      been proud of him. She tried to revolve the thing, to be fair to him, when
+      every instinctive tendency was to expel him, and all pertaining to him,
+      from her thoughts. And her effort at sympathy, at extenuation, failed
+      utterly before her pride. Exerting her will-power, she dismissed Stewart
+      from her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline did not think of him again till late that afternoon, when, as she
+      was leaving her tent to join several of her guests, Stewart appeared
+      suddenly in her path.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, I saw your tracks down the trail,&rdquo; he began, eagerly, but
+      his tone was easy and natural. &ldquo;I'm thinking&mdash;well, maybe you sure
+      got the idea&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not wish for an explanation,&rdquo; interrupted Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart gave a slight start. His manner had a semblance of the old, cool
+      audacity. As he looked down at her it subtly changed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What effrontery, Madeline thought, to face her before her guests with an
+      explanation of his conduct! Suddenly she felt an inward flash of fire that
+      was pain, so strange, so incomprehensible, that her mind whirled. Then
+      anger possessed her, not at Stewart, but at herself, that anything could
+      rouse in her a raw emotion. She stood there, outwardly cold, serene, with
+      level, haughty eyes upon Stewart; but inwardly she was burning with rage
+      and shame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sure not going to have you think&mdash;&rdquo; He began passionately, but
+      he broke off, and a slow, dull crimson blotted over the healthy red-brown
+      of his neck and cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What you do or think, Stewart, is no concern of mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss&mdash;Miss Hammond! You don't believe&mdash;&rdquo; faltered Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The crimson receded from his face, leaving it pale. His eyes were
+      appealing. They had a kind of timid look that struck Madeline even in her
+      anger. There was something boyish about him then. He took a step forward
+      and reached out with his hand open-palmed in a gesture that was humble,
+      yet held a certain dignity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But listen. Never mind now what you&mdash;you think about me. There's a
+      good reason&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no wish to hear your reason.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you ought to,&rdquo; he persisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart underwent another swift change. He started violently. A dark tide
+      shaded his face and a glitter leaped to his eyes. He took two long strides&mdash;loomed
+      over her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not thinking about myself,&rdquo; he thundered. &ldquo;Will you listen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she replied; and there was freezing hauteur in her voice. With a
+      slight gesture of dismissal, unmistakable in its finality, she turned her
+      back upon him. Then she joined her guests.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart stood perfectly motionless. Then slowly he began to lift his right
+      hand in which he held his sombrero. He swept it up and up high over his
+      head. His tall form towered. With fierce suddenness he flung his sombrero
+      down. He leaped at his black horse and dragged him to where his saddle
+      lay. With one pitch he tossed the saddle upon the horse's back. His strong
+      hands flashed at girths and straps. Every action was swift, decisive,
+      fierce. Bounding for his bridle, which hung over a bush, he ran against a
+      cowboy who awkwardly tried to avoid the onslaught.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get out of my way!&rdquo; he yelled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then with the same savage haste he adjusted the bridle on his horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mebbe you better hold on a minnit, Gene, ole feller,&rdquo; said Monty Price.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monty, do you want me to brain you?&rdquo; said Stewart, with the short, hard
+      ring in his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, considerin' the high class of my brains, I oughter be real careful
+      to keep 'em,&rdquo; replied Monty. &ldquo;You can betcher life, Gene, I ain't goin' to
+      git in front of you. But I jest says&mdash;Listen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart raised his dark face. Everybody listened. And everybody heard the
+      rapid beat of a horse's hoofs. The sun had set, but the park was light.
+      Nels appeared down the trail, and his horse was running. In another moment
+      he was in the circle, pulling his bay back to a sliding halt. He leaped
+      off abreast of Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw and felt a difference in Nels's presence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's up, Gene?&rdquo; he queried, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm leaving camp,&rdquo; replied Stewart, thickly. His black horse began to
+      stamp as Stewart grasped bridle and mane and kicked the stirrup round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels's long arm shot out, and his hand fell upon Stewart, holding him
+      down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shore I'm sorry,&rdquo; said Nels, slowly. &ldquo;Then you was goin' to hit the
+      trail?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to. Let go, Nels.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shore you ain't goin', Gene?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let go, damn you!&rdquo; cried Stewart, as he wrestled free.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's wrong?&rdquo; asked Nels, lifting his hand again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Man! Don't touch me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels stepped back instantly. He seemed to become aware of Stewart's white,
+      wild passion. Again Stewart moved to mount.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, don't make me forget we've been friends,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shore I ain't fergettin',&rdquo; replied Nels. &ldquo;An' I resign my job right here
+      an' now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His strange speech checked the mounting cowboy. Stewart stepped down from
+      the stirrup. Then their hard faces were still and cold while their eyes
+      locked glances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was as much startled by Nels's speech as Stewart. Quick to note a
+      change in these men, she now sensed one that was unfathomable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Resign?&rdquo; questioned Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shore. What 'd you think I'd do under circumstances sich as has come up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But see here, Nels, I won't stand for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're not my boss no more, an' I ain't beholdin' to Miss Hammond,
+      neither. I'm my own boss, an' I'll do as I please. Sabe, senor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels's words were at variance with the meaning in his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene, you sent me on a little scout down in the mountains, didn't you?&rdquo;
+       he continued.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I did,&rdquo; replied Stewart, with a new sharpness in his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, shore you was so good an' right in your figgerin', as opposed to
+      mine, that I'm sick with admirin' of you. If you hedn't sent me&mdash;wal,
+      I'm reckonin' somethin' might hev happened. As it is we're shore up
+      against a hell of a proposition!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      How significant was the effect of his words upon all the cowboys! Stewart
+      made a fierce and violent motion, terrible where his other motions had
+      been but passionate. Monty leaped straight up into the air in a singular
+      action as suggestive of surprise as it was of wild acceptance of menace.
+      Like a stalking giant Nick Steele strode over to Nels and Stewart. The
+      other cowboys rose silently, without a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline and her guests, in a little group, watched and listened, unable
+      to divine what all this strange talk and action meant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold on, Nels, they don't need to hear it,&rdquo; said Stewart, hoarsely, as he
+      waved a hand toward Madeline's silent group.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I'm sorry, but I reckon they'd as well know fust as last. Mebbe thet
+      yearnin' wish of Miss Helen's fer somethin' to happen will come true.
+      Shore I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cut out the joshin',&rdquo; rang out Monty's strident voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It had as decided an effect as any preceding words or action. Perhaps it
+      was the last thing needed to transform these men, doing unaccustomed duty
+      as escorts of beautiful women, to their natural state as men of the wild.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell us what's what,&rdquo; said Stewart, cool and grim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don Carlos an' his guerrillas are campin' on the trails thet lead up
+      here. They've got them trails blocked. By to-morrer they'd hed us
+      corralled. Mebbe they meant to surprise us. He's got a lot of Greasers an'
+      outlaws. They're well armed. Now what do they mean? You-all can figger it
+      out to suit yourselves. Mebbe the Don wants to pay a sociable call on our
+      ladies. Mebbe his gang is some hungry, as usual. Mebbe they want to steal
+      a few hosses, or anythin' they can lay hands on. Mebbe they mean wuss,
+      too. Now my idee is this, an' mebbe it's wrong. I long since separated
+      from love with Greasers. Thet black-faced Don Carlos has got a deep game.
+      Thet two-bit of a revolution is hevin' hard times. The rebels want
+      American intervention. They'd stretch any point to make trouble. We're
+      only ten miles from the border. Suppose them guerrillas got our crowd
+      across thet border? The U. S. cavalry would foller. You-all know what
+      thet'd mean. Mebbe Don Carlos's mind works thet way. Mebbe it don't. I
+      reckon we'll know soon. An' now, Stewart, whatever the Don's game is,
+      shore you're the man to outfigger him. Mebbe it's just as well you're good
+      an' mad about somethin'. An' I resign my job because I want to feel
+      unbeholdin' to anybody. Shore it struck me long since thet the old days
+      hed come back fer a little spell, an' there I was trailin' a promise not
+      to hurt any Greaser.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIX. Don Carlos
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Stewart took Nels, Monty, and Nick Steele aside out of earshot, and they
+      evidently entered upon an earnest colloquy. Presently the other cowboys
+      were called. They all talked more or less, but the deep voice of Stewart
+      predominated over the others. Then the consultation broke up, and the
+      cowboys scattered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rustle, you Indians!&rdquo; ordered Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ensuing scene of action was not reassuring to Madeline and her
+      friends. They were quiet, awaiting some one to tell them what to do. At
+      the offset the cowboys appeared to have forgotten Madeline. Some of them
+      ran off into the woods, others into the open, grassy places, where they
+      rounded up the horses and burros. Several cowboys spread tarpaulins upon
+      the ground and began to select and roll small packs, evidently for hurried
+      travel. Nels mounted his horse to ride down the trail. Monty and Nick
+      Steele went off into the grove, leading their horses. Stewart climbed up a
+      steep jumble of stone between two sections of low, cracked cliff back of
+      the camp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Castleton offered to help the packers, and was curtly told he would be in
+      the way. Madeline's friends all importuned her: Was there real danger?
+      Were the guerrillas coming? Would a start be made at once for the ranch?
+      Why had the cowboys suddenly become so different? Madeline answered as
+      best she could; but her replies were only conjecture, and modified to
+      allay the fears of her guests. Helen was in a white glow of excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon cowboys appeared riding barebacked horses, driving in others and the
+      burros. Some of these horses were taken away and evidently hidden in deep
+      recesses between the crags. The string of burros were packed and sent off
+      down the trail in charge of a cowboy. Nick Steele and Monty returned. Then
+      Stewart appeared, clambering down the break between the cliffs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His next move was to order all the baggage belonging to Madeline and her
+      guests taken up the cliff. This was strenuous toil, requiring the need of
+      lassoes to haul up the effects.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get ready to climb,&rdquo; said Stewart, turning to Madelines party.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where?&rdquo; asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He waved his hand at the ascent to be made. Exclamations of dismay
+      followed his gesture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Stewart, is there danger?&rdquo; asked Dorothy; and her voice trembled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the question Madeline had upon her lips to ask Stewart, but she
+      could not speak it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, there's no danger,&rdquo; replied Stewart, &ldquo;but we're taking precautions we
+      all agreed on as best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy whispered that she believed Stewart lied. Castleton asked another
+      question, and then Harvey followed suit. Mrs. Beck made a timid query.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please keep quiet and do as you're told,&rdquo; said Stewart, bluntly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this juncture, when the last of the baggage was being hauled up the
+      cliff, Monty approached Madeline and removed his sombrero. His black face
+      seemed the same, yet this was a vastly changed Monty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, I'm givin' notice I resign my job,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monty! What do you mean? What does Nels mean now, when danger threatens?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We jest quit. Thet's all,&rdquo; replied Monty, tersely. He was stern and
+      somber; he could not stand still; his eyes roved everywhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Castleton jumped up from the log where he had been sitting, and his face
+      was very red.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Price, does all this blooming fuss mean we are to be robbed or
+      attacked or abducted by a lot of ragamuffin guerrillas?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've called the bet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy turned a very pale face toward Monty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Price, you wouldn't&mdash;you couldn't desert us now? You and Mr.
+      Nels&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Desert you?&rdquo; asked Monty, blankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, desert us. Leave us when we may need you so much, with something
+      dreadful coming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty uttered a short, hard laugh as he bent a strange look upon the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me an' Nels is purty much scared, an' we're goin' to slope. Miss Dorothy,
+      bein' as we've rustled round so much; it sorta hurts us to see nice young
+      girls dragged off by the hair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy uttered a little cry and then became hysterical. Castleton for
+      once was fully aroused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Gad! You and your partner are a couple of blooming cowards. Where now
+      is that courage you boasted of?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty's dark face expressed extreme sarcasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dook, in my time I've seen some bright fellers, but you take the cake.
+      It's most marvelous how bright you are. Figger'n' me an' Nels so correct.
+      Say, Dook, if you don't git rustled off to Mexico an' roped to a
+      cactus-bush you'll hev a swell story fer your English chums. Bah Jove!
+      You'll tell 'em how you seen two old-time gun-men run like scared
+      jack-rabbits from a lot of Greasers. Like hell you will! Unless you lie
+      like the time you told about proddin' the lion. That there story allus&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monty, shut up!&rdquo; yelled Stewart, as he came hurriedly up. Then Monty
+      slouched away, cursing to himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline and Helen, assisted by Castleton, worked over Dorothy, and with
+      some difficulty quieted her. Stewart passed several times without noticing
+      them, and Monty, who had been so ridiculously eager to pay every little
+      attention to Dorothy, did not see her at all. Rude it seemed; in Monty's
+      ease more than that. Madeline hardly knew what to make of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart directed cowboys to go to the head of the open place in the cliff
+      and let down lassoes. Then, with little waste of words, he urged the women
+      toward this rough ladder of stones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We want to hide you,&rdquo; he said, when they demurred. &ldquo;If the guerrillas
+      come we'll tell them you've all gone down to the ranch. If we have to
+      fight you'll be safe up there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen stepped boldly forward and let Stewart put the loop of a lasso round
+      her and tighten it. He waved his hand to the cowboys above.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just walk up, now,&rdquo; he directed Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It proved to the watchers to be an easy, safe, and rapid means of scaling
+      the steep passage. The men climbed up without assistance. Mrs. Beck, as
+      usual, had hysteria; she half walked and was half dragged up. Stewart
+      supported Dorothy with one arm, while with the other he held to the lasso.
+      Ambrose had to carry Christine. The Mexican women required no assistance.
+      Edith Wayne and Madeline climbed last; and, once up, Madeline saw a narrow
+      bench, thick with shrubs, and overshadowed by huge, leaning crags. There
+      were holes in the rock, and dark fissures leading back. It was a rough,
+      wild place. Tarpaulins and bedding were then hauled up, and food and
+      water. The cowboys spread comfortable beds in several of the caves, and
+      told Madeline and her friends to be as quiet as possible, not to make a
+      light, and to sleep dressed, ready for travel at a moment's notice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the cowboys had gone down it was not a cheerful group left there in
+      the darkening twilight. Castleton prevailed upon them to eat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is simply great,&rdquo; whispered Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it's awful!&rdquo; moaned Dorothy. &ldquo;It's your fault, Helen. You prayed for
+      something to happen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe it's a horrid trick those cowboys are playing,&rdquo; said Mrs. Beck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline assured her friends that no trick was being played upon them, and
+      that she deplored the discomfort and distress, but felt no real alarm. She
+      was more inclined to evasive kindness here than to sincerity, for she had
+      a decided uneasiness. The swift change in the manner and looks of her
+      cowboys had been a shock to her. The last glance she had of Stewart's
+      face, then stern, almost sad, and haggard with worry, remained to augment
+      her foreboding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Darkness appeared to drop swiftly down; the coyotes began their haunting,
+      mournful howls; the stars showed and grew brighter; the wind moaned
+      through the tips of the pines. Castleton was restless. He walked to and
+      fro before the overhanging shelf of rock, where his companions sat
+      lamenting, and presently he went out to the ledge of the bench. The
+      cowboys below had built a fire, and the light from it rose in a huge,
+      fan-shaped glow. Castleton's little figure stood out black against this
+      light. Curious and anxious also, Madeline joined him and peered down from
+      the cliff. The distance was short, and occasionally she could distinguish
+      a word spoken by the cowboys. They were unconcernedly cooking and eating.
+      She marked the absence of Stewart, and mentioned it to Castleton. Silently
+      Castleton pointed almost straight down, and there in the gloom stood
+      Stewart, with the two stag-hounds at his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Nick Steele silenced the camp-fire circle by raising a warning
+      hand. The cowboys bent their heads, listening. Madeline listened with all
+      her might. She heard one of the hounds whine, then the faint beat of
+      horse's hoofs. Nick spoke again and turned to his supper, and the other
+      men seemed to slacken in attention. The beat of hoofs grew louder, entered
+      the grove, then the circle of light. The rider was Nels. He dismounted,
+      and the sound of his low voice just reached Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene, it's Nels. Somethin' doin',&rdquo; Madeline heard one of the cowboys
+      call, softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Send him over,&rdquo; replied Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels stalked away from the fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See here, Nels, the boys are all right, but I don't want them to know
+      everything about this mix-up,&rdquo; said Stewart, as Nels came up. &ldquo;Did you
+      find the girl?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline guessed that Stewart referred to the Mexican girl Bonita.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. But I met&rdquo;&mdash;Madeline did not catch the name&mdash;&ldquo;an' he was
+      wild. He was with a forest-ranger. An' they said Pat Hawe had trailed her
+      an' was takin' her down under arrest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart muttered deep under his breath, evidently cursing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wonder why he didn't come on up here?&rdquo; he queried, presently. &ldquo;He can see
+      a trail.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, Gene, Pat knowed you was here all right, fer thet ranger said Pat
+      hed wind of the guerrillas, an' Pat said if Don Carlos didn't kill you&mdash;which
+      he hoped he'd do&mdash;then it 'd be time enough to put you in jail when
+      you come down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's dead set to arrest me, Nels.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' he'll do it, like the old lady who kept tavern out West. Gene, the
+      reason thet red-faced coyote didn't trail you up here is because he's
+      scared. He allus was scared of you. But I reckon he's shore scared to
+      death of me an' Monty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, we'll take Pat in his turn. The thing now is, when will that
+      Greaser stalk us, and what'll we do when he comes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My boy, there's only one way to handle a Greaser. I shore told you thet.
+      He means rough toward us. He'll come smilin' up, all soci'ble like,
+      insinuatin' an' sweeter 'n a woman. But he's treacherous; he's wuss than
+      an Indian. An', Gene, we know for a positive fact how his gang hev been
+      operatin' between these hills an' Agua Prieta. They're no nervy gang of
+      outlaws like we used to hev. But they're plumb bad. They've raided and
+      murdered through the San Luis Pass an' Guadalupe Canyon. They've murdered
+      women, an' wuss than thet, both north an' south of Agua Prieta. Mebbe the
+      U. S. cavalry don't know it, an' the good old States; but we, you an' me
+      an' Monty an' Nick, we know it. We know jest about what thet rebel war
+      down there amounts to. It's guerrilla war, an' shore some harvest-time fer
+      a lot of cheap thieves an' outcasts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you're right, Nels. I'm not disputing that,&rdquo; replied Stewart. &ldquo;If it
+      wasn't for Miss Hammond and the other women, I'd rather enjoy seeing you
+      and Monty open up on that bunch. I'm thinking I'd be glad to meet Don
+      Carlos. But Miss Hammond! Why, Nels, such a woman as she is would never
+      recover from the sight of real gun-play, let alone any stunts with a rope.
+      These Eastern women are different. I'm not belittling our Western women.
+      It's in the blood. Miss Hammond is&mdash;is&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shore she is,&rdquo; interrupted Nels; &ldquo;but she's got a damn sight more spunk
+      than you think she has, Gene Stewart. I'm no thick-skulled cow. I'd hate
+      somethin' powerful to hev Miss Hammond see any rough work, let alone me
+      an' Monty startin' somethin'. An' me an' Monty'll stick to you, Gene, as
+      long as seems reasonable. Mind, ole feller, beggin' your pardon, you're
+      shore stuck on Miss Hammond, an' over-tender not to hurt her feelin's or
+      make her sick by lettin' some blood. We're in bad here, an' mebbe we'll
+      hev to fight. Sabe, senor? Wal, we do you can jest gamble thet Miss
+      Hammond'll be game. An' I'll bet you a million pesos thet if you got goin'
+      onct, an' she seen you as I've seen you&mdash;wal, I know what she'd think
+      of you. This old world ain't changed much. Some women may be white-skinned
+      an' soft-eyed an' sweet-voiced an' high-souled, but they all like to see a
+      man! Gene, here's your game. Let Don Carlos come along. Be civil. If he
+      an' his gang are hungry, feed 'em. Take even a little overbearin' Greaser
+      talk. Be blind if he wants his gang to steal somethin'. Let him think the
+      women hev mosied down to the ranch. But if he says you're lyin'&mdash;if
+      he as much as looks round to see the women&mdash;jest jump him same as you
+      jumped Pat Hawe. Me an' Monty'll hang back fer thet, an' if your strong
+      bluff don't go through, if the Don's gang even thinks of flashin' guns,
+      then we'll open up. An' all I got to say is if them Greasers stand fer
+      real gun-play they'll be the fust I ever seen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, there are white men in that gang,&rdquo; said Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shore. But me an' Monty'll be thinkin' of thet. If they start anythin'
+      it'll hev to be shore quick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, Nels, old friend, and thanks,&rdquo; replied Stewart. Nels returned
+      to the camp-fire, and Stewart resumed his silent guard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline led Castleton away from the brink of the wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Jove! Cowboys are blooming strange folk!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;They are not
+      what they pretend to be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, you are right,&rdquo; replied Madeline. &ldquo;I cannot understand them.
+      Come, let us tell the others that Nels and Monty were only talking and do
+      not intend to leave us. Dorothy, at least, will be less frightened if she
+      knows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy was somewhat comforted. The others, however, complained of the
+      cowboys' singular behavior. More than once the idea was advanced that an
+      elaborate trick had been concocted. Upon general discussion this idea
+      gained ground. Madeline did not combat it, because she saw it tended to a
+      less perturbed condition of mind among her guests. Castleton for once
+      proved that he was not absolutely obtuse, and helped along the idea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They sat talking in low voices until a late hour. The incident now began
+      to take on the nature of Helen's long-yearned-for adventure. Some of the
+      party even grew merry in a subdued way. Then, gradually, one by one they
+      tired and went to bed. Helen vowed she could not sleep in a place where
+      there were bats and crawling things. Madeline fancied, however, that they
+      all went to sleep while she lay wide-eyed, staring up at the black bulge
+      of overhanging rock and beyond the starry sky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To keep from thinking of Stewart and the burning anger he had caused her
+      to feel for herself, Madeline tried to keep her mind on other things. But
+      thought of him recurred, and each time there was a hot commotion in her
+      breast hard to stifle. Intelligent reasoning seemed out of her power. In
+      the daylight it had been possible for her to be oblivious to Stewart's
+      deceit after the moment of its realization. At night, however, in the
+      strange silence and hovering shadows of gloom, with the speaking stars
+      seeming to call to her, with the moan of the wind in the pines, and the
+      melancholy mourn of coyotes in the distance, she was not able to govern
+      her thought and emotion. The day was practical, cold; the night was
+      strange and tense. In the darkness she had fancies wholly unknown to her
+      in the bright light of the sun. She battled with a haunting thought. She
+      had inadvertently heard Nels's conversation with Stewart; she had
+      listened, hoping to hear some good news or to hear the worst; she had
+      learned both, and, moreover, enlightenment on one point of Stewart's
+      complex motives. He wished to spare her any sight that might offend,
+      frighten, or disgust her. Yet this Stewart, who showed a fineness of
+      feeling that might have been wanting even in Boyd Harvey, maintained a
+      secret rendezvous with that pretty, abandoned Bonita. Here always the hot
+      shame, like a live, stinging, internal fire, abruptly ended Madeline's
+      thought. It was intolerable, and it was the more so because she could
+      neither control nor understand it. The hours wore on, and at length, as
+      the stars began to pale and there was no sound whatever, she fell asleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was called out of her slumber. Day had broken bright and cool. The sun
+      was still below the eastern crags. Ambrose, with several other cowboys,
+      had brought up buckets of spring-water, and hot coffee and cakes.
+      Madeline's party appeared to be none the worse for the night's experience.
+      Indeed, the meager breakfast might have been as merrily partaken of as it
+      was hungrily had not Ambrose enjoined silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They're expectin' company down below,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This information and the summary manner in which the cowboys soon led the
+      party higher up among the ruined shelves of rock caused a recurrence of
+      anxiety. Madeline insisted on not going beyond a projection of cliff from
+      which she could see directly down into the camp. As the vantage-point was
+      one affording concealment, Ambrose consented, but he placed the frightened
+      Christine near Madeline and remained there himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ambrose, do you really think the guerrillas will come?&rdquo; asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure. We know. Nels just rode in and said they were on their way up. Miss
+      Hammond, can I trust you? You won't let out a squeal if there's a fight
+      down there? Stewart told me to hide you out of sight or keep you from
+      lookin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise not to make any noise,&rdquo; replied Madeline. Madeline arranged her
+      coat so that she could lie upon it, and settled down to wait developments.
+      There came a slight rattling of stones in the rear. She turned to see
+      Helen sliding down a bank with a perplexed and troubled cowboy. Helen came
+      stooping low to where Madeline lay and said: &ldquo;I am going to see what
+      happens, if I die in the attempt! I can stand it if you can.&rdquo; She was pale
+      and big-eyed. Ambrose promptly swore at the cowboy who had let her get
+      away from him. &ldquo;Take a half-hitch on her yourself an' see where you end
+      up,&rdquo; replied the fellow, and disappeared in the jumble of rocks. Ambrose,
+      finding words useless, sternly and heroically prepared to carry Helen back
+      to the others. He laid hold of her. In a fury, with eyes blazing, Helen
+      whispered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let go of me! Majesty, what does this fool mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline laughed. She knew Helen, and had marked the whisper, when
+      ordinarily Helen would have spoken imperiously, and not low. Madeline
+      explained to her the exigency of the situation. &ldquo;I might run, but I'll
+      never scream,&rdquo; said Helen. With that Ambrose had to be content to let her
+      stay. However, he found her a place somewhat farther back from Madeline's
+      position, where he said there was less danger of her being seen. Then he
+      sternly bound her to silence, tarried a moment to comfort Christine, and
+      returned to where Madeline lay concealed. He had been there scarcely a
+      moment when he whispered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hear hosses. The guerrillas are comin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's hiding-place was well protected from possible discovery from
+      below. She could peep over a kind of parapet, through an opening in the
+      tips of the pines that reached up to the cliff, and obtain a commanding
+      view of the camp circle and its immediate surroundings. She could not,
+      however, see far either to right or left of the camp, owing to the
+      obstructing foliage. Presently the sound of horses' hoofs quickened the
+      beat of her pulse and caused her to turn keener gaze upon the cowboys
+      below.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Although she had some inkling of the course Stewart and his men were to
+      pursue, she was not by any means prepared for the indifference she saw.
+      Frank was asleep, or pretended to be. Three cowboys were lazily and
+      unconcernedly attending to camp-fire duties, such as baking biscuits,
+      watching the ovens, and washing tins and pots. The elaborate set of
+      aluminum plates, cups, etc., together with the other camp fixtures that
+      had done service for Madeline's party, had disappeared. Nick Steele sat
+      with his back to a log, smoking his pipe. Another cowboy had just brought
+      the horses closer into camp, where they stood waiting to be saddled. Nels
+      appeared to be fussing over a pack. Stewart was rolling a cigarette. Monty
+      had apparently nothing to do for the present except whistle, which he was
+      doing much more loudly than melodiously. The whole ensemble gave an
+      impression of careless indifference.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sound of horses' hoofs grew louder and slowed its beat. One of the
+      cowboys pointed down the trail, toward which several of his comrades
+      turned their heads for a moment, then went on with their occupations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently a shaggy, dusty horse bearing a lean, ragged, dark rider rode
+      into camp and halted. Another followed, and another. Horses with Mexican
+      riders came in single file and stopped behind the leader.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboys looked up, and the guerrillas looked down. &ldquo;Buenos dias,
+      senor,&rdquo; ceremoniously said the foremost guerrilla.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By straining her ears Madeline heard that voice, and she recognized it as
+      belonging to Don Carlos. His graceful bow to Stewart was also familiar.
+      Otherwise she would never have recognized the former elegant vaquero in
+      this uncouth, roughly dressed Mexican.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart answered the greeting in Spanish, and, waving his hand toward the
+      camp-fire, added in English, &ldquo;Get down and eat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The guerrillas were anything but slow in complying. They crowded to the
+      fire, then spread in a little circle and squatted upon the ground, laying
+      their weapons beside them. In appearance they tallied with the band of
+      guerrillas that had carried Madeline up into the foothills, only this band
+      was larger and better armed. The men, moreover, were just as hungry and as
+      wild and beggarly. The cowboys were not cordial in their reception of this
+      visit, but they were hospitable. The law of the desert had always been to
+      give food and drink to wayfaring men, whether lost or hunted or hunting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's twenty-three in that outfit,&rdquo; whispered Ambrose, &ldquo;includin' four
+      white men. Pretty rummy outfit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They appear to be friendly enough,&rdquo; whispered Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Things down there ain't what they seem,&rdquo; replied Ambrose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ambrose, tell me&mdash;explain to me. This is my opportunity. As long as
+      you will let me watch them, please let me know the&mdash;the real thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure. But recollect, Miss Hammond, that Gene'll give it to me good if he
+      ever knows I let you look and told you what's what. Well, decent-like Gene
+      is seen' them poor devils get a square meal. They're only a lot of
+      calf-thieves in this country. Across the border they're bandits, some of
+      them, the others just riffraff outlaws. That rebel bluff doesn't go down
+      with us. I'd have to see first before I'd believe them Greasers would
+      fight. They're a lot of hard-ridin' thieves, and they'd steal a fellow's
+      blanket or tobacco. Gene thinks they're after you ladies&mdash;to carry
+      you off. But Gene&mdash;Oh, Gene's some highfalutin in his ideas lately.
+      Most of us boys think the guerrillas are out to rob&mdash;that's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whatever might have been the secret motive of Don Carlos and his men, they
+      did not allow it to interfere with a hearty appreciation of a generous
+      amount of food. Plainly, each individual ate all that he was able to eat
+      at the time. They jabbered like a flock of parrots; some were even merry,
+      in a kind of wild way. Then, as each and every one began to roll and smoke
+      the inevitable cigarette of the Mexican, there was a subtle change in
+      manner. They smoked and looked about the camp, off into the woods, up at
+      the crags, and back at the leisurely cowboys. They had the air of men
+      waiting for something.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senor,&rdquo; began Don Carlos, addressing Stewart. As he spoke he swept his
+      sombrero to indicate the camp circle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline could not distinguish his words, but his gesture plainly
+      indicated a question in regard to the rest of the camping party. Stewart's
+      reply and the wave of his hand down the trail meant that his party had
+      gone home. Stewart turned to some task, and the guerrilla leader quietly
+      smoked. He looked cunning and thoughtful. His men gradually began to
+      manifest a restlessness, noticeable in the absence of former languor and
+      slow puffing of cigarette smoke. Presently a big-boned man with a bullet
+      head and a blistered red face of evil coarseness got up and threw away his
+      cigarette. He was an American.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hey, cull,&rdquo; he called in loud voice, &ldquo;ain't ye goin' to cough up a
+      drink?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My boys don't carry liquor on the trail,&rdquo; replied Stewart. He turned now
+      to face the guerrillas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haw, haw! I heerd over in Rodeo thet ye was gittin' to be shore some fer
+      temperance,&rdquo; said this fellow. &ldquo;I hate to drink water, but I guess I've
+      gotter do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went to the spring, sprawled down to drink, and all of a sudden he
+      thrust his arm down in the water to bring forth a basket. The cowboys in
+      the hurry of packing had neglected to remove this basket; and it contained
+      bottles of wine and liquors for Madeline's guests. They had been submerged
+      in the spring to keep them cold. The guerrilla fumbled with the lid,
+      opened it, and then got up, uttering a loud roar of delight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart made an almost imperceptible motion, as if to leap forward; but he
+      checked the impulse, and after a quick glance at Nels he said to the
+      guerrilla:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Guess my party forgot that. You're welcome to it.&rdquo; Like bees the
+      guerrillas swarmed around the lucky finder of the bottles. There was a
+      babel of voices. The drink did not last long, and it served only to
+      liberate the spirit of recklessness. The several white outlaws began to
+      prowl around the camp; some of the Mexicans did likewise; others waited,
+      showing by their ill-concealed expectancy the nature of their thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the demeanor of Stewart and his comrades that puzzled Madeline.
+      Apparently they felt no anxiety or even particular interest. Don Carlos,
+      who had been covertly watching them, now made his scrutiny open, even
+      aggressive. He looked from Stewart to Nels and Monty, and then to the
+      other cowboys. While some of his men prowled around the others watched
+      him, and the waiting attitude had taken on something sinister. The
+      guerrilla leader seemed undecided, but not in any sense puzzled. When he
+      turned his cunning face upon Nels and Monty he had the manner of a man in
+      whom decision was lacking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In her growing excitement Madeline had not clearly heard Ambrose's low
+      whispers and she made an effort to distract some of her attention from
+      those below to the cowboy crouching beside her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The quality, the note of Ambrose's whisper had changed. It had a slight
+      sibilant sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be mad if sudden-like I clap my hands over your eyes, Miss
+      Hammond,&rdquo; he was saying. &ldquo;Somethin's brewin' below. I never seen Gene so
+      cool. That's a dangerous sign in him. And look, see how the boys are
+      workin' together! Oh, it's slow and accident-like, but I know it's sure
+      not accident. That foxy Greaser knows, too. But maybe his men don't. If
+      they are wise they haven't sense enough to care. The Don, though&mdash;he's
+      worried. He's not payin' so much attention to Gene, either. It's Nels and
+      Monty he's watchin'. And well he need do it! There, Nick and Frank have
+      settled down on that log with Booly. They don't seem to be packin' guns.
+      But look how heavy their vests hang. A gun in each side! Those boys can
+      pull a gun and flop over that log quicker than you can think. Do you
+      notice how Nels and Monty and Gene are square between them guerrillas and
+      the trail up here? It doesn't seem on purpose, but it is. Look at Nels and
+      Monty. How quiet they are confabbin' together, payin' no attention to the
+      guerrillas. I see Monty look at Gene, then I see Nels look at Gene. Well,
+      it's up to Gene. And they're goin' to back him. I reckon, Miss Hammond,
+      there'd be dead Greasers round that camp long ago if Nels and Monty were
+      foot-loose. They're beholdin' to Gene. That's plain. And, Lord! how it
+      tickles me to watch them! Both packin' two forty-fives, butts swingin'
+      clear. There's twenty-four shots in them four guns. And there's
+      twenty-three guerrillas. If Nels and Monty ever throw guns at that close
+      range, why, before you'd know what was up there'd be a pile of Greasers.
+      There! Stewart said something to the Don. I wonder what. I'll gamble it
+      was something to get the Don's outfit all close together. Sure! Greasers
+      have no sense. But them white guerrillas, they're lookin' some dubious.
+      Whatever's comin' off will come soon, you can bet. I wish I was down
+      there. But maybe it won't come to a scrap. Stewart's set on avoidin' that.
+      He's a wonderful chap to get his way. Lord, though, I'd like to see him go
+      after that overbearin' Greaser! See! the Don can't stand prosperity. All
+      this strange behavior of cowboys is beyond his pulque-soaked brains. Then
+      he's a Greaser. If Gene doesn't knock him on the head presently he'll
+      begin to get over his scare, even of Nels and Monty. But Gene'll pick out
+      the right time. And I'm gettin' nervous. I want somethin' to start. Never
+      saw Nels in but one fight, then he just shot a Greaser's arm off for
+      tryin' to draw on him. But I've heard all about him. And Monty! Monty's
+      the real old-fashioned gun-man. Why, none of them stories, them lies he
+      told to entertain the Englishman, was a marker to what Monty has done.
+      What I don't understand is how Monty keeps so quiet and easy and
+      peaceful-like. That's not his way, with such an outfit lookin' for
+      trouble. O-ha! Now for the grand bluff. Looks like no fight at all!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The guerrilla leader had ceased his restless steps and glances, and turned
+      to Stewart with something of bold resolution in his aspect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gracias, senor,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Adios.&rdquo; He swept his sombrero in the direction
+      of the trail leading down the mountain to the ranch; and as he completed
+      the gesture a smile, crafty and jeering, crossed his swarthy face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ambrose whispered so low that Madeline scarcely heard him. &ldquo;If the Greaser
+      goes that way he'll find our horses and get wise to the trick. Oh, he's
+      wise now! But I'll gamble he never even starts on that trail.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Neither hurriedly nor guardedly Stewart rose out of his leaning posture
+      and took a couple of long strides toward Don Carlos.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go back the way you came,&rdquo; he fairly yelled; and his voice had the ring
+      of a bugle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ambrose nudged Madeline; his whisper was tense and rapid: &ldquo;Don't miss
+      nothin'. Gene's called him. Whatever's comin' off will be here quick as
+      lightnin'. See! I guess maybe that Greaser don't savvy good U. S. lingo.
+      Look at that dirty yaller face turn green. Put one eye on Nels and Monty!
+      That's great&mdash;just to see 'em. Just as quiet and easy. But oh, the
+      difference! Bent and stiff&mdash;that means every muscle is like a rawhide
+      riata. They're watchin' with eyes that can see the workin's of them
+      Greasers' minds. Now there ain't a hoss-hair between them Greasers and
+      hell!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Don Carlos gave Stewart one long malignant stare; then he threw back his
+      head, swept up the sombrero, and his evil smile showed gleaming teeth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senor&mdash;&rdquo; he began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With magnificent bound Stewart was upon him. The guerrilla's cry was
+      throttled in his throat. A fierce wrestling ensued, too swift to see
+      clearly; then heavy, sodden blows, and Don Carlos was beaten to the
+      ground. Stewart leaped back. Then, crouching with his hands on the butts
+      of guns at his hips, he yelled, he thundered at the guerrillas. He had
+      been quicker than a panther, and now his voice was so terrible that it
+      curdled Madeline's blood, and the menace of deadly violence in his
+      crouching position made her shut her eyes. But she had to open them. In
+      that single instant Nels and Monty had leaped to Stewart's side. Both were
+      bent down, with hands on the butts of guns at their hips. Nels's piercing
+      yell seemed to divide Monty's roar of rage. Then they ceased, and echoes
+      clapped from the crags. The silence of those three men crouching like
+      tigers about to leap was more menacing than the nerve-racking yells.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the guerrillas wavered and broke and ran for their horses. Don Carlos
+      rolled over, rose, and staggered away, to be helped upon his mount. He
+      looked back, his pale and bloody face that of a thwarted demon. The whole
+      band got into action and were gone in a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew it,&rdquo; declared Ambrose. &ldquo;Never seen a Greaser who could face
+      gun-play. That was some warm. And Monty Price never flashed a gun! He'll
+      never get over that. I reckon, Miss Harnmond, we're some lucky to avoid
+      trouble. Gene had his way, as you seen. We'll be makin' tracks for the
+      ranch in about two shakes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; whispered Madeline, breathlessly. She became conscious that she was
+      weak and shaken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because the guerrillas sure will get their nerve back, and come sneakin'
+      on our trail or try to head us off by ambushin',&rdquo; replied Ambrose. &ldquo;That's
+      their way. Otherwise three cowboys couldn't bluff a whole gang like that.
+      Gene knows the nature of Greasers. They're white-livered. But I reckon
+      we're in more danger now than before, unless we get a good start down the
+      mountain. There! Gene's callin'. Come! Hurry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had slipped down from her vantage-point, and therefore had not seen
+      the last act in that little camp-fire drama. It seemed, however, that her
+      desire for excitement was satisfied, for her face was pale and she
+      trembled when she asked if the guerrillas were gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't see the finish, but those horrible yells were enough for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ambrose hurried the three women over the rough rocks, down the cliff. The
+      cowboys below were saddling horses in haste. Evidently all the horses had
+      been brought out of hiding. Swiftly, with regard only for life and limb,
+      Madeline, Helen, and Christine were lowered by lassoes and half carried
+      down to the level. By the time they were safely down the other members of
+      the party appeared on the cliff above. They were in excellent spirits,
+      appearing to treat the matter as a huge joke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ambrose put Christine on a horse and rode away through the pines; Frankie
+      Slade did likewise with Helen. Stewart led Madeline's horse up to her,
+      helped her to mount, and spoke one stern word, &ldquo;Wait!&rdquo; Then as fast as one
+      of the women reached the level she was put upon a horse and taken away by
+      a cowboy escort. Few words were spoken. Haste seemed to be the great
+      essential. The horses were urged, and, once in the trail, spurred and led
+      into a swift trot. One cowboy drove up four pack-horses, and these were
+      hurriedly loaded with the party's baggage. Castleton and his companions
+      mounted, and galloped off to catch the others in the lead. This left
+      Madeline behind with Stewart and Nels and Monty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They're goin' to switch off at the holler thet heads near the trail a few
+      miles down,&rdquo; Nels was saying, as he tightened his saddle-girth. &ldquo;Thet
+      holler heads into a big canyon. Once in thet, it'll be every man fer
+      hisself. I reckon there won't be anythin' wuss than a rough ride.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels smiled reassuringly at Madeline, but he did not speak to her. Monty
+      took her canteen and filled it at the spring and hung it over the pommel
+      of her saddle. He put a couple of biscuits in the saddle-bag.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't fergit to take a drink an' a bite as you're ridin' along,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;An' don't worry, Miss Majesty. Stewart'll be with you, an' me an' Nels
+      hangin' on the back-trail.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His somber and sullen face did not change in its strange intensity, but
+      the look in his eyes Madeline felt she would never forget. Left alone with
+      these three men, now stripped of all pretense, she realized how fortune
+      had favored her and what peril still hung in the balance. Stewart swung
+      astride his big black, spurred him, and whistled. At the whistle Majesty
+      jumped, and with swift canter followed Stewart. Madeline looked back to
+      see Nels already up and Monty handing him a rifle. Then the pines hid her
+      view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once in the trail, Stewart's horse broke into a gallop. Majesty changed
+      his gait and kept at the black's heels. Stewart called back a warning. The
+      low, wide-spreading branches of trees might brush Madeline out of the
+      saddle. Fast riding through the forest along a crooked, obstructed trail
+      called forth all her alertness. Likewise the stirring of her blood, always
+      susceptible to the spirit and motion of a ride, let alone one of peril,
+      now began to throb and burn away the worry, the dread, the coldness that
+      had weighted her down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before long Stewart wheeled at right angles off the trail and entered a
+      hollow between two low bluffs. Madeline saw tracks in the open patches of
+      ground. Here Stewart's horse took to a brisk walk. The hollow deepened,
+      narrowed, became rocky, full of logs and brush. Madeline exerted all her
+      keenness, and needed it, to keep close to Stewart. She did not think of
+      him, nor her own safety, but of keeping Majesty close in the tracks of the
+      black, of eluding the sharp spikes in the dead brush, of avoiding the
+      treacherous loose stones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Madeline was brought to a dead halt by Stewart and his horse
+      blocking the trail. Looking up, she saw they were at the head of a canyon
+      that yawned beneath and widened its gray-walled, green-patched slopes down
+      to a black forest of fir. The drab monotony of the foothills made contrast
+      below the forest, and away in the distance, rosy and smoky, lay the
+      desert. Retracting her gaze, Madeline saw pack-horses cross an open space
+      a mile below, and she thought she saw the stag-hounds. Stewart's dark eyes
+      searched the slopes high up along the craggy escarpments. Then he put the
+      black to the descent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If there had been a trail left by the leading cowboys, Stewart did not
+      follow it. He led off to the right, zigzagging an intricate course through
+      the roughest ground Madeline had ever ridden over. He crashed through
+      cedars, threaded a tortuous way among boulders, made his horse slide down
+      slanting banks of soft earth, picked a slow and cautious progress across
+      weathered slopes of loose rock. Madeline followed, finding in this ride a
+      tax on strength and judgment. On an ordinary horse she never could have
+      kept in Stewart's trail. It was dust and heat, a parching throat, that
+      caused Madeline to think of time; and she was amazed to see the sun
+      sloping to the west. Stewart never stopped; he never looked back; he never
+      spoke. He must have heard the horse close behind him. Madeline remembered
+      Monty's advice about drinking and eating as she rode along. The worst of
+      that rough travel came at the bottom of the canyon. Dead cedars and brush
+      and logs were easy to pass compared with the miles, it seemed, of loose
+      boulders. The horses slipped and stumbled. Stewart proceeded here with
+      exceeding care. At last, when the canyon opened into a level forest of
+      firs, the sun was setting red in the west.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart quickened the gait of his horse. After a mile or so of easy travel
+      the ground again began to fall decidedly, sloping in numerous ridges, with
+      draws between. Soon night shadowed the deeper gullies. Madeline was
+      refreshed by the cooling of the air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart traveled slowly now. The barks of coyotes seemed to startle him.
+      Often he stopped to listen. And during one of those intervals the silence
+      was broken by sharp rifle-shots. Madeline could not tell whether they were
+      near or far, to right or left, behind or before. Evidently Stewart was
+      both alarmed and baffled. He dismounted. He went cautiously forward to
+      listen. Madeline fancied she heard a cry, low and far away. It was only
+      that of a coyote, she convinced herself, yet it was so wailing, so human,
+      that she shuddered. Stewart came back. He slipped the bridles of both
+      horses, and he led them. Every few paces he stopped to listen. He changed
+      his direction several times, and the last time he got among rough, rocky
+      ridges. The iron shoes of the horses cracked on the rocks. That sound must
+      have penetrated far into the forest. It perturbed Stewart, for he searched
+      for softer ground. Meanwhile the shadows merged into darkness. The stars
+      shone. The wind rose. Madeline believed hours passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart halted again. In the gloom Madeline discerned a log cabin, and
+      beyond it pear-pointed dark trees piercing the sky-line. She could just
+      make out Stewart's tall form as he leaned against his horse. Either he was
+      listening or debating what to do&mdash;perhaps both. Presently he went
+      inside the cabin. Madeline heard the scratching of a match; then she saw a
+      faint light. The cabin appeared to be deserted. Probably it was one of the
+      many habitations belonging to prospectors and foresters who lived in the
+      mountains. Stewart came out again. He walked around the horses, out into
+      the gloom, then back to Madeline. For a long moment he stood as still as a
+      statue and listened. Then she heard him mutter, &ldquo;If we have to start quick
+      I can ride bareback.&rdquo; With that he took the saddle and blanket off his
+      horse and carried them into the cabin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get off,&rdquo; he said, in a low voice, as he stepped out of the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He helped her down and led her inside, where again he struck a match.
+      Madeline caught a glimpse of a rude fireplace and rough-hewn logs.
+      Stewart's blanket and saddle lay on the hard-packed earthen floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rest a little,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I'm going into the woods a piece to listen.
+      Gone only a minute or so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had to feel round in the dark to locate the saddle and blanket.
+      When she lay down it was with a grateful sense of ease and relief. As her
+      body rested, however, her mind became the old thronging maze for sensation
+      and thought. All day she had attended to the alert business of helping her
+      horse. Now, what had already happened, the night, the silence, the
+      proximity of Stewart and his strange, stern caution, the possible
+      happenings to her friends&mdash;all claimed their due share of her
+      feeling. She went over them all with lightning swiftness of thought. She
+      believed, and she was sure Stewart believed, that her friends, owing to
+      their quicker start down the mountain, had not been headed off in their
+      travel by any of the things which had delayed Stewart. This conviction
+      lifted the suddenly returning dread from her breast; and as for herself,
+      somehow she had no fear. But she could not sleep; she did not try to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart's soft steps sounded outside. His dark form loomed in the door. As
+      he sat down Madeline heard the thump of a gun that he laid beside him on
+      the sill; then the thump of another as he put that down, too. The sounds
+      thrilled her. Stewart's wide shoulders filled the door; his finely shaped
+      head and strong, stern profile showed clearly in outline against the sky;
+      the wind waved his hair. He turned his ear to that wind and listened.
+      Motionless he sat for what to her seemed hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the stirring memory of the day's adventure, the feeling of the beauty
+      of the night, and a strange, deep-seated, sweetly vague consciousness of
+      happiness portending, were all burned out in hot, pressing pain at the
+      remembrance of Stewart's disgrace in her eyes. Something had changed
+      within her so that what had been anger at herself was sorrow for him. He
+      was such a splendid man. She could not feel the same; she knew her debt to
+      him, yet she could not thank him, could not speak to him. She fought an
+      unintelligible bitterness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she rested with closed eyes, and time seemed neither short nor long.
+      When Stewart called her she opened her eyes to see the gray of dawn. She
+      rose and stepped outside. The horses whinnied. In a moment she was in the
+      saddle, aware of cramped muscles and a weariness of limbs. Stewart led off
+      at a sharp trot into the fir forest. They came to a trail into which he
+      turned. The horses traveled steadily; the descent grew less steep; the
+      firs thinned out; the gray gloom brightened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Madeline rode out of the firs the sun had arisen and the foothills
+      rolled beneath her; and at their edge, where the gray of valley began, she
+      saw a dark patch that she knew was the ranch-house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XX. The Sheriff of El Cajon
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      About the middle of the forenoon of that day Madeline reached the ranch.
+      Her guests had all arrived there late the night before, and wanted only
+      her presence and the assurance of her well-being to consider the last of
+      the camping trip a rare adventure. Likewise, they voted it the cowboys'
+      masterpiece of a trick. Madeline's delay, they averred, had been only a
+      clever coup to give a final effect. She did not correct their impression,
+      nor think it needful to state that she had been escorted home by only one
+      cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her guests reported an arduous ride down the mountain, with only one
+      incident to lend excitement. On the descent they had fallen in with
+      Sheriff Hawe and several of his deputies, who were considerably under the
+      influence of drink and very greatly enraged by the escape of the Mexican
+      girl Bonita. Hawe had used insulting language to the ladies and, according
+      to Ambrose, would have inconvenienced the party on some pretext or other
+      if he had not been sharply silenced by the cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's guests were two days in recovering from the hard ride. On the
+      third day they leisurely began to prepare for departure. This period was
+      doubly trying for Madeline. She had her own physical need of rest, and,
+      moreover, had to face a mental conflict that could scarcely be postponed
+      further. Her sister and friends were kindly and earnestly persistent in
+      their entreaties that she go back East with them. She desired to go. It
+      was not going that mattered; it was how and when and under what
+      circumstances she was to return that roused in her disturbing emotion.
+      Before she went East she wanted to have fixed in mind her future relation
+      to the ranch and the West. When the crucial hour arrived she found that
+      the West had not claimed her yet. These old friends had warmed cold ties.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It turned out, however, that there need be no hurry about making the
+      decision. Madeline would have welcomed any excuse to procrastinate; but,
+      as it happened, a letter from Alfred made her departure out of the
+      question for the present. He wrote that his trip to California had been
+      very profitable, that he had a proposition for Madeline from a large
+      cattle company, and, particularly, that he wanted to marry Florence soon
+      after his arrival home and would bring a minister from Douglas for that
+      purpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline went so far, however, as to promise Helen and her friends that
+      she would go East soon, at the very latest by Thanksgiving. With that
+      promise they were reluctantly content to say good-by to the ranch and to
+      her. At the last moment there seemed a great likelihood of a hitch in
+      plans for the first stage of that homeward journey. All of Madeline's
+      guests held up their hands, Western fashion, when Link Stevens appeared
+      with the big white car. Link protested innocently, solemnly, that he would
+      drive slowly and safely; but it was necessary for Madeline to guarantee
+      Link's word and to accompany them before they would enter the car. At the
+      station good-bys were spoken and repeated, and Madeline's promise was
+      exacted for the hundredth time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dorothy Coombs's last words were: &ldquo;Give my love to Monty Price. Tell him
+      I'm&mdash;I'm glad he kissed me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen's eyes had a sweet, grave, yet mocking light as she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Majesty, bring Stewart with you when you come. He'll be the rage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline treated the remark with the same merry lightness with which it
+      was received by the others; but after the train had pulled out and she was
+      on her way home she remembered Helen's words and looks with something
+      almost amounting to a shock. Any mention of Stewart, any thought of him,
+      displeased her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did Helen mean?&rdquo; mused Madeline. And she pondered. That mocking
+      light in Helen's eyes had been simply an ironical glint, a cynical gleam
+      from that worldly experience so suspicious and tolerant in its wisdom. The
+      sweet gravity of Helen's look had been a deeper and more subtle thing.
+      Madeline wanted to understand it, to divine in it a new relation between
+      Helen and herself, something fine and sisterly that might lead to love.
+      The thought, however, revolving around a strange suggestion of Stewart,
+      was poisoned at its inception, and she dismissed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the drive in to the ranch, as she was passing the lower lake, she saw
+      Stewart walking listlessly along the shore. When he became aware of the
+      approach of the car he suddenly awakened from his aimless sauntering and
+      disappeared quickly in the shade of the shrubbery. This was not by any
+      means the first time Madeline had seen him avoid a possible meeting with
+      her. Somehow the act had pained her, though affording her a relief. She
+      did not want to meet him face to face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was annoying for her to guess that Stillwell had something to say in
+      Stewart's defense. The old cattleman was evidently distressed. Several
+      times he had tried to open a conversation with Madeline relating to
+      Stewart; she had evaded him until the last time, when his persistence had
+      brought a cold and final refusal to hear another word about the foreman.
+      Stillwell had been crushed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As days passed Stewart remained at the ranch without his old faithfulness
+      to his work. Madeline was not moved to a kinder frame of mind to see him
+      wandering dejectedly around. It hurt her, and because it hurt her she grew
+      all the harder. Then she could not help hearing snatches of conversation
+      which strengthened her suspicions that Stewart was losing his grip on
+      himself, that he would soon take the downward course again. Verification
+      of her own suspicion made it a belief, and belief brought about a sharp
+      conflict between her generosity and some feeling that she could not name.
+      It was not a question of justice or mercy or sympathy. If a single word
+      could have saved Stewart from sinking his splendid manhood into the brute
+      she had recoiled from at Chiricahua, she would not have spoken it. She
+      could not restore him to his former place in her regard; she really did
+      not want him at the ranch at all. Once, considering in wonder her
+      knowledge of men, she interrogated herself to see just why she could not
+      overlook Stewart's transgression. She never wanted to speak to him again,
+      or see him, or think of him. In some way, through her interest in Stewart,
+      she had come to feel for herself an inexplicable thing close to scorn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A telegram from Douglas, heralding the coming of Alfred and a minister,
+      put an end to Madeline's brooding, and she shared something of Florence
+      Kingsley's excitement. The cowboys were as eager and gossipy as girls. It
+      was arranged to have the wedding ceremony performed in Madeline's great
+      hall-chamber, and the dinner in the cool, flower-scented patio.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alfred and his minister arrived at the ranch in the big white car. They
+      appeared considerably wind-blown. In fact, the minister was breathless,
+      almost sightless, and certainly hatless. Alfred, used as he was to wind
+      and speed, remarked that he did not wonder at Nels's aversion to riding a
+      fleeting cannon-ball. The imperturbable Link took off his cap and goggles
+      and, consulting his watch, made his usual apologetic report to Madeline,
+      deploring the fact that a teamster and a few stray cattle on the road had
+      held him down to the manana time of only a mile a minute.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arrangements for the wedding brought Alfred's delighted approval. When he
+      had learned all Florence and Madeline would tell him he expressed a desire
+      to have the cowboys attend; and then he went on to talk about California,
+      where he was going take Florence on a short trip. He was curiously
+      interested to find out all about Madeline's guests and what had happened
+      to them. His keen glance at Madeline grew softer as she talked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I breathe again,&rdquo; he said, and laughed. &ldquo;I was afraid. Well, I must have
+      missed some sport. I can just fancy what Monty and Nels did to that
+      Englishman. So you went up to the crags. That's a wild place. I'm not
+      surprised at guerrillas falling in with you up there. The crags were a
+      famous rendezvous for Apaches&mdash;it's near the border&mdash;almost
+      inaccessible&mdash;good water and grass. I wonder what the U. S. cavalry
+      would think if they knew these guerrillas crossed the border right under
+      their noses. Well, it's practically impossible to patrol some of that
+      border-line. It's desert, mountain, and canyon, exceedingly wild and
+      broken. I'm sorry to say that there seems to be more trouble in sight with
+      these guerrillas than at any time heretofore. Orozco, the rebel leader,
+      has failed to withstand Madero's army. The Federals are occupying
+      Chihuahua now, and are driving the rebels north. Orozco has broken up his
+      army into guerrilla bands. They are moving north and west, intending to
+      carry on guerrilla warfare in Sonora. I can't say just how this will
+      affect us here. But we're too close to the border for comfort. These
+      guerrillas are night-riding hawks; they can cross the border, raid us
+      here, and get back the same night. Fighting, I imagine, will not be
+      restricted to northern Mexico. With the revolution a failure the
+      guerrillas will be more numerous, bolder, and hungrier. Unfortunately, we
+      happen to be favorably situated for them down here in this wilderness
+      corner of the state.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On the following day Alfred and Florence were married. Florence's sister
+      and several friends from El Cajon were present, besides Madeline,
+      Stillwell, and his men. It was Alfred's express wish that Stewart attend
+      the ceremony. Madeline was amused when she noticed the painfully
+      suppressed excitement of the cowboys. For them a wedding must have been an
+      unusual and impressive event. She began to have a better understanding of
+      the nature of it when they cast off restraint and pressed forward to kiss
+      the bride. In all her life Madeline had never seen a bride kissed so much
+      and so heartily, nor one so flushed and disheveled and happy. This indeed
+      was a joyful occasion. There was nothing of the &ldquo;effete East&rdquo; about Alfred
+      Hammond; he might have been a Westerner all his days. When Madeline
+      managed to get through the press of cowboys to offer her congratulations
+      Alfred gave her a bear hug and a kiss. This appeared to fascinate the
+      cowboys. With shining eyes and faces aglow, with smiling, boyish boldness,
+      they made a rush at Madeline. For one instant her heart leaped to her
+      throat. They looked as if they could most shamelessly kiss and maul her.
+      That little, ugly-faced, soft-eyed, rude, tender-hearted ruffian, Monty
+      Price, was in the lead. He resembled a dragon actuated by sentiment. All
+      at once Madeline's instinctive antagonism to being touched by strange
+      hands or lips battled with a real, warm, and fun-loving desire to let the
+      cowboys work their will with her. But she saw Stewart hanging at the back
+      of the crowd, and something&mdash;some fierce, dark expression of pain&mdash;amazed
+      her, while it froze her desire to be kind. Then she did not know what
+      change must have come to her face and bearing; but she saw Monty fall back
+      sheepishly and the other cowboys draw aside to let her lead the way into
+      the patio.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The dinner began quietly enough with the cowboys divided between
+      embarrassment and voracious appetites that they evidently feared to
+      indulge. Wine, however, loosened their tongues, and when Stillwell got up
+      to make the speech everybody seemed to expect of him they greeted him with
+      a roar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell was now one huge, mountainous smile. He was so happy that he
+      appeared on the verge of tears. He rambled on ecstatically till he came to
+      raise his glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' now, girls an' boys, let's all drink to the bride an' groom; to their
+      sincere an' lastin' love; to their happiness an' prosperity; to their good
+      health an' long life. Let's drink to the unitin' of the East with the
+      West. No man full of red blood an' the real breath of life could resist a
+      Western girl an' a good hoss an' God's free hand&mdash;that open country
+      out there. So we claim Al Hammond, an' may we be true to him. An',
+      friends, I think it fittin' that we drink to his sister an' to our hopes.
+      Heah's to the lady we hope to make our Majesty! Heah's to the man who'll
+      come ridin' out of the West, a fine, big-hearted man with a fast hoss an'
+      a strong rope, an' may he win an' hold her! Come, friends, drink.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A heavy pound of horses' hoofs and a yell outside arrested Stillwell's
+      voice and halted his hand in midair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The patio became as silent as an unoccupied room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through the open doors and windows of Madeline's chamber burst the sounds
+      of horses stamping to a halt, then harsh speech of men, and a low cry of a
+      woman in pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rapid steps crossed the porch, entered Madeline's room. Nels appeared in
+      the doorway. Madeline was surprised to see that he had not been at the
+      dinner-table. She was disturbed at sight of his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart, you're wanted outdoors,&rdquo; called Nels, bluntly. &ldquo;Monty, you slope
+      out here with me. You, Nick, an' Stillwell&mdash;I reckon the rest of you
+      hed better shut the doors an' stay inside.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels disappeared. Quick as a cat Monty glided out. Madeline heard his
+      soft, swift steps pass from her room into her office. He had left his guns
+      there. Madeline trembled. She saw Stewart get up quietly and without any
+      change of expression on his dark, sad face leave the patio. Nick Steele
+      followed him. Stillwell dropped his wine-glass. As it broke, shivering the
+      silence, his huge smile vanished. His face set into the old cragginess and
+      the red slowly thickened into black. Stillwell went out and closed the
+      door behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then there was a blank silence. The enjoyment of the moment had been
+      rudely disrupted. Madeline glanced down the lines of brown faces to see
+      the pleasure fade into the old familiar hardness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's wrong?&rdquo; asked Alfred, rather stupidly. The change of mood had been
+      too rapid for him. Suddenly he awakened, thoroughly aroused at the
+      interruption. &ldquo;I'm going to see who's butted in here to spoil our dinner,&rdquo;
+       he said, and strode out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He returned before any one at the table had spoken or moved, and now the
+      dull red of anger mottled his forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's the sheriff of El Cajon!&rdquo; he exclaimed, contemptuously. &ldquo;Pat Hawe
+      with some of his tough deputies come to arrest Gene Stewart. They've got
+      that poor little Mexican girl out there tied on a horse. Confound that
+      sheriff!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline calmly rose from the table, eluding Florence's entreating hand,
+      and started for the door. The cowboys jumped up. Alfred barred her
+      progress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alfred, I am going out,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I guess not,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;That's no place for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going.&rdquo; She looked straight at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madeline! Why, what is it? You look&mdash;Dear, there's pretty sure to be
+      trouble outside. Maybe there'll be a fight. You can do nothing. You must
+      not go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps I can prevent trouble,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she left the patio she was aware that Alfred, with Florence at his side
+      and the cowboys behind, were starting to follow her. When she got out of
+      her room upon the porch she heard several men in loud, angry discussion.
+      Then, at sight of Bonita helplessly and cruelly bound upon a horse, pale
+      and disheveled and suffering, Madeline experienced the thrill that sight
+      or mention of this girl always gave her. It yielded to a hot pang in her
+      breast&mdash;that live pain which so shamed her. But almost instantly, as
+      a second glance showed an agony in Bonita's face, her bruised arms where
+      the rope bit deep into the flesh, her little brown hands stained with
+      blood, Madeline was overcome by pity for the unfortunate girl and a
+      woman's righteous passion at such barbarous treatment of one of her own
+      sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man holding the bridle of the horse on which Bonita had been bound was
+      at once recognized by Madeline as the big-bodied, bullet-headed guerrilla
+      who had found the basket of wine in the spring at camp. Redder of face,
+      blacker of beard, coarser of aspect, evidently under the influence of
+      liquor, he was as fierce-looking as a gorilla and as repulsive. Besides
+      him there were three other men present, all mounted on weary horses. The
+      one in the foreground, gaunt, sharp-featured, red-eyed, with a pointed
+      beard, she recognized as the sheriff of El Cajon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline hesitated, then stopped in the middle of the porch. Alfred,
+      Florence, and several others followed her out; the rest of the cowboys and
+      guests crowded the windows and doors. Stillwell saw Madeline, and,
+      throwing up his hands, roared to be heard. This quieted the gesticulating,
+      quarreling men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal now, Pat Hawe, what's drivin' you like a locoed steer on the
+      rampage?&rdquo; demanded Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keep in the traces, Bill,&rdquo; replied Hawe. &ldquo;You savvy what I come fer. I've
+      been bidin' my time. But I'm ready now. I'm hyar to arrest a criminal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The huge frame of the old cattleman jerked as if he had been stabbed. His
+      face turned purple.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What criminal?&rdquo; he shouted, hoarsely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sheriff flicked his quirt against his dirty boot, and he twisted his
+      thin lips into a leer. The situation was agreeable to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Bill, I knowed you hed a no-good outfit ridin' this range; but I
+      wasn't wise thet you hed more 'n one criminal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cut that talk! Which cowboy are you wantin' to arrest?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hawe's manner altered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene Stewart,&rdquo; he replied, curtly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On what charge?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fer killin' a Greaser one night last fall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you're still harpin' on that? Pat, you're on the wrong trail. You
+      can't lay that killin' onto Stewart. The thing's ancient by now. But if
+      you insist on bringin' him to court, let the arrest go to-day&mdash;we're
+      hevin' some fiesta hyar&mdash;an' I'll fetch Gene in to El Cajon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nope. I reckon I'll take him when I got the chance, before he slopes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm givin' you my word,&rdquo; thundered Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon I don't hev to take your word, Bill, or anybody else's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell's great bulk quivered with his rage, yet he made a successful
+      effort to control it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See hyar, Pat Hawe, I know what's reasonable. Law is law. But in this
+      country there always has been an' is now a safe an' sane way to proceed
+      with the law. Mebbe you've forgot that. The law as invested in one man in
+      a wild country is liable, owin' to that man's weaknesses an' onlimited
+      authority, to be disputed even by a decent ole cattleman like myself. I'm
+      a-goin' to give you a hunch. Pat, you're not overliked in these parts.
+      You've rid too much with a high hand. Some of your deals hev been shady,
+      an' don't you overlook what I'm sayin'. But you're the sheriff, an' I'm
+      respectin' your office. I'm respectin' it this much. If the milk of human
+      decency is so soured in your breast that you can't hev a kind feelin',
+      then try to avoid the onpleasantness that'll result from any contrary move
+      on your part to-day. Do you get that hunch?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stillwell, you're threatenin' an officer,&rdquo; replied Hawe, angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you hit the trail quick out of hyar?&rdquo; queried Stillwell, in strained
+      voice. &ldquo;I guarantee Stewart's appearance in El Cajon any day you say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I come to arrest him, an' I'm goin' to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that's your game!&rdquo; shouted Stillwell. &ldquo;We-all are glad to get you
+      straight, Pat. Now listen, you cheap, red-eyed coyote of a sheriff! You
+      don't care how many enemies you make. You know you'll never get office
+      again in this county. What do you care now? It's amazin' strange how
+      earnest you are to hunt down the man who killed that particular Greaser. I
+      reckon there's been some dozen or more killin's of Greasers in the last
+      year. Why don't you take to trailin' some of them killin's? I'll tell you
+      why. You're afraid to go near the border. An' your hate of Gene Stewart
+      makes you want to hound him an' put him where he's never been yet&mdash;in
+      jail. You want to spite his friends. Wal, listen, you lean-jawed,
+      skunk-bitten coyote! Go ahead an' try to arrest him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell took one mighty stride off the porch. His last words had been
+      cold. His rage appeared to have been transferred to Hawe. The sheriff had
+      begun to stutter and shake a lanky red hand at the cattleman when Stewart
+      stepped out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, you fellows, give me a chance to say a word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As Stewart appeared the Mexican girl suddenly seemed vitalized out of her
+      stupor. She strained at her bonds, as if to lift her hands beseechingly. A
+      flush animated her haggard face, and her big dark eyes lighted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senor Gene!&rdquo; she moaned. &ldquo;Help me! I so seek. They beat me, rope me,
+      'mos' keel me. Oh, help me, Senor Gene!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shut up, er I'll gag you,&rdquo; said the man who held Bonita's horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Muzzle her, Sneed, if she blabs again,&rdquo; called Hawe. Madeline felt
+      something tense and strained working in the short silence. Was it only a
+      phase of her thrilling excitement? Her swift glance showed the faces of
+      Nels and Monty and Nick to be brooding, cold, watchful. She wondered why
+      Stewart did not look toward Bonita. He, too, was now dark-faced, cool,
+      quiet, with something ominous about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hawe, I'll submit to arrest without any fuss,&rdquo; he said, slowly, &ldquo;if
+      you'll take the ropes off that girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nope,&rdquo; replied the sheriff. &ldquo;She got away from me onct. She's hawg-tied
+      now, an' she'll stay hawg-tied.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline thought she saw Stewart give a slight start. But an unaccountable
+      dimness came over her eyes, at brief intervals obscuring her keen sight.
+      Vaguely she was conscious of a clogged and beating tumult in her breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, let's hurry out of here,&rdquo; said Stewart. &ldquo;You've made annoyance
+      enough. Ride down to the corral with me. I'll get my horse and go with
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold on!&rdquo; yelled Hawe, as Stewart turned away. &ldquo;Not so fast. Who's doin'
+      this? You don't come no El Capitan stunts on me. You'll ride one of my
+      pack-horses, an' you'll go in irons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You want to handcuff me?&rdquo; queried Stewart, with sudden swift start of
+      passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Want to? Haw, haw! Nope, Stewart, thet's jest my way with hoss-thieves,
+      raiders, Greasers, murderers, an' sich. See hyar, you Sneed, git off an'
+      put the irons on this man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The guerrilla called Sneed slid off his horse and began to fumble in his
+      saddle-bags.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, Bill,&rdquo; went on Hawe, &ldquo;I swore in a new depooty fer this
+      particular job. Sneed is some handy. He rounded up thet little Mexican cat
+      fer me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell did not hear the sheriff; he was gazing at Stewart in a kind of
+      imploring amaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene, you ain't goin' to stand fer them handcuffs?&rdquo; he pleaded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied the cowboy. &ldquo;Bill, old friend, I'm an outsider here.
+      There's no call for Miss Hammond and&mdash;and her brother and Florence to
+      be worried further about me. Their happy day has already been spoiled on
+      my account. I want to get out quick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, you might be too damn considerate of Miss Hammond's sensitive
+      feelin's.&rdquo; There was now no trace of the courteous, kindly old rancher. He
+      looked harder than stone. &ldquo;How about my feelin's? I want to know if you're
+      goin' to let this sneakin' coyote, this last gasp of the old rum-guzzlin'
+      frontier sheriffs, put you in irons an' hawg-tie you an' drive you off to
+      jail?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Stewart, steadily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, by Gawd! You, Gene Stewart! What's come over you? Why, man, go in
+      the house, an' I'll 'tend to this feller. Then to-morrow you can ride in
+      an' give yourself up like a gentleman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I'll go. Thanks, Bill, for the way you and the boys would stick to
+      me. Hurry, Hawe, before my mind changes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice broke at the last, betraying the wonderful control he had kept
+      over his passions. As he ceased speaking he seemed suddenly to become
+      spiritless. He dropped his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw in him then a semblance to the hopeless, shamed Stewart of
+      earlier days. The vague riot in her breast leaped into conscious fury&mdash;a
+      woman's passionate repudiation of Stewart's broken spirit. It was not that
+      she would have him be a lawbreaker; it was that she could not bear to see
+      him deny his manhood. Once she had entreated him to become her kind of a
+      cowboy&mdash;a man in whom reason tempered passion. She had let him see
+      how painful and shocking any violence was to her. And the idea had
+      obsessed him, softened him, had grown like a stultifying lichen upon his
+      will, had shorn him of a wild, bold spirit she now strangely longed to see
+      him feel. When the man Sneed came forward, jingling the iron fetters,
+      Madeline's blood turned to fire. She would have forgiven Stewart then for
+      lapsing into the kind of cowboy it had been her blind and sickly sentiment
+      to abhor. This was a man's West&mdash;a man's game. What right had a woman
+      reared in a softer mold to use her beauty and her influence to change a
+      man who was bold and free and strong? At that moment, with her blood hot
+      and racing, she would have gloried in the violence which she had so
+      deplored: she would have welcomed the action that had characterized
+      Stewart's treatment of Don Carlos; she had in her the sudden dawning
+      temper of a woman who had been assimilating the life and nature around her
+      and who would not have turned her eyes away from a harsh and bloody deed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Stewart held forth his hands to be manacled. Then Madeline heard her
+      own voice burst out in a ringing, imperious &ldquo;Wait!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the time it took her to make the few steps to the edge of the porch,
+      facing the men, she not only felt her anger and justice and pride
+      summoning forces to her command, but there was something else calling&mdash;a
+      deep, passionate, mysterious thing not born of the moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sneed dropped the manacles. Stewart's face took on a chalky whiteness.
+      Hawe, in a slow, stupid embarrassment beyond his control, removed his
+      sombrero in a respect that seemed wrenched from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Hawe, I can prove to you that Stewart was not concerned in any way
+      whatever with the crime for which you want to arrest him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sheriff's stare underwent a blinking change. He coughed, stammered,
+      and tried to speak. Manifestly, he had been thrown completely off his
+      balance. Astonishment slowly merged into discomfiture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was absolutely impossible for Stewart to have been connected with that
+      assault,&rdquo; went on Madeline, swiftly, &ldquo;for he was with me in the
+      waiting-room of the station at the moment the assault was made outside. I
+      assure you I have a distinct and vivid recollection. The door was open. I
+      heard the voices of quarreling men. They grew louder. The language was
+      Spanish. Evidently these men had left the dance-hall opposite and were
+      approaching the station. I heard a woman's voice mingling with the others.
+      It, too, was Spanish, and I could not understand. But the tone was
+      beseeching. Then I heard footsteps on the gravel. I knew Stewart heard
+      them. I could see from his face that something dreadful was about to
+      happen. Just outside the door then there were hoarse, furious voices, a
+      scuffle, a muffled shot, a woman's cry, the thud of a falling body, and
+      rapid footsteps of a man running away. Next, the girl Bonita staggered
+      into the door. She was white, trembling, terror-stricken. She recognized
+      Stewart, appealed to him. Stewart supported her and endeavored to calm
+      her. He was excited. He asked her if Danny Mains had been shot, or if he
+      had done the shooting. The girl said no. She told Stewart that she had
+      danced a little, flirted a little with vaqueros, and they had quarreled
+      over her. Then Stewart took her outside and put her upon his horse. I saw
+      the girl ride that horse down the street to disappear in the darkness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While Madeline spoke another change appeared to be working in the man
+      Hawe. He was not long disconcerted, but his discomfiture wore to a sullen
+      fury, and his sharp features fixed in an expression of craft.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thet's mighty interestin', Miss Hammond, 'most as interestin' as a
+      story-book,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Now, since you're so obligin' a witness, I'd sure
+      like to put a question or two. What time did you arrive at El Cajon thet
+      night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was after eleven o'clock,&rdquo; replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody there to meet you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The station agent an' operator both gone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, how soon did this feller Stewart show up?&rdquo; Hawe continued, with a
+      wry smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very soon after my arrival. I think&mdash;perhaps fifteen minutes,
+      possibly a little more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some dark an' lonesome around thet station, wasn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' what time was the Greaser shot?&rdquo; queried Hawe, with his little eyes
+      gleaming like coals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably close to half past one. It was two o'clock when I looked at my
+      watch at Florence Kingsley's house. Directly after Stewart sent Bonita
+      away he took me to Miss Kingsley's. So, allowing for the walk and a few
+      minutes' conversation with her, I can pretty definitely say the shooting
+      took place at about half past one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell heaved his big frame a step closer to the sheriff. &ldquo;What 're you
+      drivin' at?&rdquo; he roared, his face black again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Evidence,&rdquo; snapped Hawe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline marveled at this interruption; and as Stewart irresistibly drew
+      her glance she saw him gray-faced as ashes, shaking, utterly unnerved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thank you, Miss Hammond,&rdquo; he said, huskily. &ldquo;But you needn't answer any
+      more of Hawe's questions. He's&mdash;he's&mdash;It's not necessary. I'll
+      go with him now, under arrest. Bonita will corroborate your testimony in
+      court, and that will save me from this&mdash;this man's spite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, looking at Stewart, seeing a humility she at first took for
+      cowardice, suddenly divined that it was not fear for himself which made
+      him dread further disclosures of that night, but fear for her&mdash;fear
+      of shame she might suffer through him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Pat Hawe cocked his head to one side, like a vulture about to strike with
+      his beak, and cunningly eyed Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Considered as testimony, what you've said is sure important an'
+      conclusive. But I'm calculatin' thet the court will want to hev explained
+      why you stayed from eleven-thirty till one-thirty in thet waitin'-room
+      alone with Stewart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His deliberate speech met with what Madeline imagined a remarkable
+      reception from Stewart, who gave a tigerish start; from Stillwell, whose
+      big hands tore at the neck of his shirt, as if he was choking; from
+      Alfred, who now strode hotly forward, to be stopped by the cold and silent
+      Nels; from Monty Price, who uttered a violent &ldquo;Aw!&rdquo; which was both a hiss
+      and a roar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the rush of her thought Madeline could not interpret the meaning of
+      these things which seemed so strange at that moment. But they were
+      portentous. Even as she was forming a reply to Hawe's speech she felt a
+      chill creep over her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart detained me in the waiting-room,&rdquo; she said, clear-voiced as a
+      bell. &ldquo;But we were not alone&mdash;all the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment the only sound following her words was a gasp from Stewart.
+      Hawe's face became transformed with a hideous amaze and joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Detained?&rdquo; he whispered, craning his lean and corded neck. &ldquo;How's thet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart was drunk. He&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With sudden passionate gesture of despair Stewart appealed to her:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Hammond, don't! don't! DON'T!...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he seemed to sink down, head lowered upon his breast, in utter shame.
+      Stillwell's great hand swept to the bowed shoulder, and he turned to
+      Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, I reckon you'd be wise to tell all,&rdquo; said the old
+      cattleman, gravely. &ldquo;There ain't one of us who could misunderstand any
+      motive or act of yours. Mebbe a stroke of lightnin' might clear this murky
+      air. Whatever Gene Stewart did that onlucky night&mdash;you tell it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's dignity and self-possession had been disturbed by Stewart's
+      importunity. She broke into swift, disconnected speech:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He came into the station&mdash;a few minutes after I got there. I
+      asked-to be shown to a hotel. He said there wasn't any that would
+      accommodate married women. He grasped my hand&mdash;looked for a
+      wedding-ring. Then I saw he was&mdash;he was intoxicated. He told me he
+      would go for a hotel porter. But he came back with a padre&mdash;Padre
+      Marcos. The poor priest was&mdash;terribly frightened. So was I. Stewart
+      had turned into a devil. He fired his gun at the padre's feet. He pushed
+      me into a bench. Again he shot&mdash;right before my face. I&mdash;I
+      nearly fainted. But I heard him cursing the padre&mdash;heard the padre
+      praying or chanting&mdash;I didn't know what. Stewart tried to make me say
+      things in Spanish. All at once he asked my name. I told him. He jerked at
+      my veil. I took it off. Then he threw his gun down&mdash;pushed the padre
+      out of the door. That was just before the vaqueros approached with Bonita.
+      Padre Marcos must have seen them&mdash;must have heard them. After that
+      Stewart grew quickly sober. He was mortified&mdash;distressed&mdash;stricken
+      with shame. He told me he had been drinking at a wedding&mdash;I remember,
+      it was Ed Linton's wedding. Then he explained&mdash;the boys were always
+      gambling&mdash;he wagered he would marry the first girl who arrived at El
+      Cajon. I happened to be the first one. He tried to force me to marry him.
+      The rest&mdash;relating to the assault on the vaquero&mdash;I have already
+      told you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline ended, out of breath and panting, with her hands pressed upon her
+      heaving bosom. Revelation of that secret liberated emotion; those hurried
+      outspoken words had made her throb and tremble and burn. Strangely then
+      she thought of Alfred and his wrath. But he stood motionless, as if dazed.
+      Stillwell was trying to holster up the crushed Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hawe rolled his red eyes and threw back his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho, ho! Say, Sneed, you didn't miss any of it, did ye?
+      Haw, haw! Best I ever heerd in all my born days. Ho, ho!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he ceased laughing, and with glinting gaze upon Madeline, insolent
+      and vicious and savage, he began to drawl:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal now, my lady, I reckon your story, if it tallies with Bonita's an'
+      Padre Marcos's, will clear Gene Stewart in the eyes of the court.&rdquo; Here he
+      grew slower, more biting, sharper and harder of face. &ldquo;But you needn't
+      expect Pat Hawe or the court to swaller thet part of your story&mdash;about
+      bein' detained unwillin'!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline had not time to grasp the sense of his last words. Stewart had
+      convulsively sprung upward, white as chalk. As he leaped at Hawe Stillwell
+      interposed his huge bulk and wrapped his arms around Stewart. There was a
+      brief, whirling, wrestling struggle. Stewart appeared to be besting the
+      old cattleman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Help, boys, help!&rdquo; yelled Stillwell. &ldquo;I can't hold him. Hurry, or there's
+      goin' to be blood spilled!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nick Steele and several cowboys leaped to Stillwell's assistance. Stewart,
+      getting free, tossed one aside and then another. They closed in on him.
+      For an instant a furious straining wrestle of powerful bodies made rasp
+      and shock and blow. Once Stewart heaved them from him. But they plunged
+      back upon him&mdash;conquered him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene! Why, Gene!&rdquo; panted the old cattleman. &ldquo;Sure you're locoed&mdash;to
+      act this way. Cool down! Cool down! Why, boy, it's all right. Jest stand
+      still&mdash;give us a chance to talk to you. It's only ole Bill, you know&mdash;your
+      ole pal who's tried to be a daddy to you. He's only wantin' you to hev
+      sense&mdash;to be cool&mdash;to wait.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me go! Let me go!&rdquo; cried Stewart; and the poignancy of that cry
+      pierced Madeline's heart. &ldquo;Let me go, Bill, if you're my friend. I saved
+      your life once&mdash;over in the desert. You swore you'd never forget.
+      Boys, make him let me go! Oh, I don't care what Hawe's said or done to me!
+      It was that about her! Are you all a lot of Greasers? How can you stand
+      it? Damn you for a lot of cowards! There's a limit, I tell you.&rdquo; Then his
+      voice broke, fell to a whisper. &ldquo;Bill, dear old Bill, let me go. I'll kill
+      him! You know I'll kill him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gene, I know you'd kill him if you hed an even break,&rdquo; replied Stillwell,
+      soothingly. &ldquo;But, Gene, why, you ain't even packin' a gun! An' there's Pat
+      lookin' nasty, with his hand nervous-like. He seen you hed no gun. He'd
+      jump at the chance to plug you now, an' then holler about opposition to
+      the law. Cool down, son; it'll all come right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Madeline was transfixed by a terrible sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her startled glance shifted from the anxious group round Stewart to see
+      that Monty Price had leaped off the porch. He crouched down with his bands
+      below his hips, where the big guns swung. From his distorted lips issued
+      that which was combined roar and bellow and Indian war-whoop, and, more
+      than all, a horrible warning cry. He resembled a hunchback about to make
+      the leap of a demon. He was quivering, vibrating. His eyes, black and hot,
+      were fastened with most piercing intentness upon Hawe and Sneed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Git back, Bill, git back!&rdquo; he roared. &ldquo;Git 'em back!&rdquo; With one lunge
+      Stillwell shoved Stewart and Nick and the other cowboys up on the porch.
+      Then he crowded Madeline and Alfred and Florence to the wall, tried to
+      force them farther. His motions were rapid and stern. But failing to get
+      them through door and windows, he planted his wide person between the
+      women and danger. Madeline grasped his arm, held on, and peered fearfully
+      from behind his broad shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You, Hawe! You, Sneed!&rdquo; called Monty, in that same wild voice. &ldquo;Don't you
+      move a finger or an eyelash!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's faculties nerved to keen, thrilling divination. She grasped the
+      relation between Monty's terrible cry and the strange hunched posture he
+      had assumed. Stillwell's haste and silence, too, were pregnant of
+      catastrophe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, git in this!&rdquo; yelled Monty; and all the time he never shifted his
+      intent gaze as much as a hair's-breadth from Hawe and his deputy. &ldquo;Nels,
+      chase away them two fellers hangin' back there. Chase 'em, quick!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These men, the two deputies who had remained in the background with the
+      pack-horses, did not wait for Nels. They spurred their mounts, wheeled,
+      and galloped away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Nels, cut the gurl loose,&rdquo; ordered Monty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels ran forward, jerked the halter out of Sneed's hand, and pulled
+      Bonita's horse in close to the porch. As he slit the rope which bound her
+      she fell into his arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hawe, git down!&rdquo; went on Monty. &ldquo;Face front an' stiff!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sheriff swung his leg, and, never moving his hands, with his face now
+      a deathly, sickening white, he slid to the ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Line up there beside your guerrilla pard. There! You two make a damn fine
+      pictoor, a damn fine team of pizened coyote an' a cross between a wild
+      mule an' a Greaser. Now listen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monty made a long pause, in which his breathing was plainly audible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's eyes were riveted upon Monty. Her mind, swift as lightning, had
+      gathered the subtleties in action and word succeeding his domination of
+      the men. Violence, terrible violence, the thing she had felt, the thing
+      she had feared, the thing she had sought to eliminate from among her
+      cowboys, was, after many months, about to be enacted before her eyes. It
+      had come at last. She had softened Stillwell, she had influenced Nels, she
+      had changed Stewart; but this little black-faced, terrible Monty Price now
+      rose, as it were, out of his past wild years, and no power on earth or in
+      heaven could stay his hand. It was the hard life of wild men in a wild
+      country that was about to strike this blow at her. She did not shudder;
+      she did not wish to blot out from sight this little man, terrible in his
+      mood of wild justice. She suffered a flash of horror that Monty, blind and
+      dead to her authority, cold as steel toward her presence, understood the
+      deeps of a woman's soul. For in this moment of strife, of insult to her,
+      of torture to the man she had uplifted and then broken, the passion of her
+      reached deep toward primitive hate. With eyes slowly hazing red, she
+      watched Monty Price; she listened with thrumming ears; she waited, slowly
+      sagging against Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hawe, if you an' your dirty pard hev loved the sound of human voice, then
+      listen an' listen hard,&rdquo; said Monty. &ldquo;Fer I've been goin' contrary to my
+      ole style jest to hev a talk with you. You all but got away on your nerve,
+      didn't you? 'Cause why? You roll in here like a mad steer an' flash yer
+      badge an' talk mean, then almost bluff away with it. You heerd all about
+      Miss Hammond's cowboy outfit stoppin' drinkin' an' cussin' an' packin'
+      guns. They've took on religion an' decent livin', an' sure they'll be easy
+      to hobble an' drive to jail. Hawe, listen. There was a good an' noble an
+      be-ootiful woman come out of the East somewheres, an' she brought a lot of
+      sunshine an' happiness an' new idees into the tough lives of cowboys. I
+      reckon it's beyond you to know what she come to mean to them. Wal, I'll
+      tell you. They-all went clean out of their heads. They-all got soft an'
+      easy an' sweet-tempered. They got so they couldn't kill a coyote, a
+      crippled calf in a mud-hole. They took to books, an' writin' home to
+      mother an' sister, an' to savin' money, an' to gittin' married. Onct they
+      was only a lot of poor cowboys, an' then sudden-like they was human
+      bein's, livin' in a big world thet hed somethin' sweet even fer them. Even
+      fer me&mdash;an ole, worn-out, hobble-legged, burned-up cowman like me! Do
+      you git thet? An' you, Mister Hawe, you come along, not satisfied with
+      ropin' an' beatin', an' Gaw knows what else, of thet friendless little
+      Bonita; you come along an' face the lady we fellers honor an' love an'
+      reverence, an' you&mdash;you&mdash;Hell's fire!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With whistling breath, foaming at the mouth, Monty Price crouched lower,
+      hands at his hips, and he edged inch by inch farther out from the porch,
+      closer to Hawe and Sneed. Madeline saw them only in the blurred fringe of
+      her sight. They resembled specters. She heard the shrill whistle of a
+      horse and recognized Majesty calling her from the corral.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thet's all!&rdquo; roared Monty, in a voice now strangling. Lower and lower he
+      bent, a terrible figure of ferocity. &ldquo;Now, both you armed ocifers of the
+      law, come on! Flash your guns! Throw 'em, an' be quick! Monty Price is
+      done! There'll be daylight through you both before you fan a hammer! But
+      I'm givin' you a chanst to sting me. You holler law, an' my way is the ole
+      law.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His breath came quicker, his voice grew hoarser, and he crouched lower.
+      All his body except his rigid arms quivered with a wonderful muscular
+      convulsion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dogs! Skunks! Buzzards! Flash them guns, er I'll flash mine! Aha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To Madeline it seemed the three stiff, crouching men leaped into instant
+      and united action. She saw streaks of fire&mdash;streaks of smoke. Then a
+      crashing volley deafened her. It ceased as quickly. Smoke veiled the
+      scene. Slowly it drifted away to disclose three fallen men, one of whom,
+      Monty, leaned on his left hand, a smoking gun in his right. He watched for
+      a movement from the other two. It did not come. Then, with a terrible
+      smile, he slid back and stretched out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXI. Unbridled
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      In waking and sleeping hours Madeline Hammond could not release herself
+      from the thralling memory of that tragedy. She was haunted by Monty
+      Price's terrible smile. Only in action of some kind could she escape; and
+      to that end she worked, she walked and rode. She even overcame a strong
+      feeling, which she feared was unreasonable disgust, for the Mexican girl
+      Bonita, who lay ill at the ranch, bruised and feverish, in need of skilful
+      nursing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline felt there was something inscrutable changing her soul. That
+      strife&mdash;the struggle to decide her destiny for East or West&mdash;held
+      still further aloof. She was never spiritually alone. There was a step on
+      her trail. Indoors she was oppressed. She required the open&mdash;the
+      light and wind, the sight of endless slope, the sounds of corral and pond
+      and field, physical things, natural things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One afternoon she rode down to the alfalfa-fields, round them, and back up
+      to the spillway of the lower lake, where a group of mesquite-trees, owing
+      to the water that seeped through the sand to their roots, had taken on
+      bloom and beauty of renewed life. Under these trees there was shade enough
+      to make a pleasant place to linger. Madeline dismounted, desiring to rest
+      a little. She liked this quiet, lonely spot. It was really the only
+      secluded nook near the house. If she rode down into the valley or out to
+      the mesa or up on the foothills she could not go alone. Probably now
+      Stillwell or Nels knew her whereabouts. But as she was comparatively
+      hidden here, she imagined a solitude that was not actually hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her horse, Majesty, tossed his head and flung his mane and switched his
+      tail at the flies. He would rather have been cutting the wind down the
+      valley slope. Madeline sat with her back against a tree, and took off her
+      sombrero. The soft breeze, fanning her hot face, blowing strands of her
+      hair, was refreshingly cool. She heard the slow tramp of cattle going in
+      to drink. That sound ceased, and the grove of mesquites appeared to be
+      lifeless, except for her and her horse. It was, however, only after
+      moments of attention that she found the place was far from being dead.
+      Keen eyes and ears brought reward. Desert quail, as gray as the bare
+      earth, were dusting themselves in a shady spot. A bee, swift as light,
+      hummed by. She saw a horned toad, the color of stone, squatting low,
+      hiding fearfully in the sand within reach of her whip. She extended the
+      point of the whip, and the toad quivered and swelled and hissed. It was
+      instinct with fight. The wind faintly stirred the thin foliage of the
+      mesquites, making a mournful sigh. From far up in the foothills, barely
+      distinguishable, came the scream of an eagle. The bray of a burro brought
+      a brief, discordant break. Then a brown bird darted down from an unseen
+      perch and made a swift, irregular flight after a fluttering winged insect.
+      Madeline heard the sharp snapping of a merciless beak. Indeed, there was
+      more than life in the shade of the mesquites.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Majesty picked up his long ears and snorted. Then Madeline heard
+      a slow pad of hoofs. A horse was approaching from the direction of the
+      lake. Madeline had learned to be wary, and, mounting Majesty, she turned
+      him toward the open. A moment later she felt glad of her caution, for,
+      looking back between the trees, she saw Stewart leading a horse into the
+      grove. She would as lief have met a guerrilla as this cowboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Majesty had broken into a trot when a shrill whistle rent the air. The
+      horse leaped and, wheeling so swiftly that he nearly unseated Madeline, he
+      charged back straight for the mesquites. Madeline spoke to him, cried
+      angrily at him, pulled with all her strength upon the bridle, but was
+      helplessly unable to stop him. He whistled a piercing blast. Madeline
+      realized then that Stewart, his old master, had called him and that
+      nothing could turn him. She gave up trying, and attended to the urgent
+      need of intercepting mesquite boughs that Majesty thrashed into motion.
+      The horse thumped into an aisle between the trees and, stopping before
+      Stewart, whinnied eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, not knowing what to expect, had not time for any feeling but
+      amaze. A quick glance showed her Stewart in rough garb, dressed for the
+      trail, and leading a wiry horse, saddled and packed. When Stewart, without
+      looking at her, put his arm around Majesty's neck and laid his face
+      against the flowing mane Madeline's heart suddenly began to beat with
+      unwonted quickness. Stewart seemed oblivious to her presence. His eyes
+      were closed. His dark face softened, lost its hardness and fierceness and
+      sadness, and for an instant became beautiful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline instantly divined what his action meant. He was leaving the
+      ranch; this was his good-by to his horse. How strange, sad, fine was this
+      love between man and beast! A dimness confused Madeline's eyes; she
+      hurriedly brushed it away, and it came back wet and blurring. She averted
+      her face, ashamed of the tears Stewart might see. She was sorry for him.
+      He was going away, and this time, judging from the nature of his farewell
+      to his horse, it was to be forever. Like a stab from a cold blade a pain
+      shot through Madeline's heart. The wonder of it, the incomprehensibility
+      of it, the utter newness and strangeness of this sharp pain that now left
+      behind a dull pang, made her forget Stewart, her surroundings, everything
+      except to search her heart. Maybe here was the secret that had eluded her.
+      She trembled on the brink of something unknown. In some strange way the
+      emotion brought back her girlhood. Her mind revolved swift queries and
+      replies; she was living, feeling, learning; happiness mocked at her from
+      behind a barred door, and the bar of that door seemed to be an
+      inexplicable pain. Then like lightning strokes shot the questions: Why
+      should pain hide her happiness? What was her happiness? What relation had
+      it to this man? Why should she feel strangely about his departure? And the
+      voices within her were silenced, stunned, unanswered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to talk to you,&rdquo; said Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline started, turned to him, and now she saw the earlier Stewart, the
+      man who reminded her of their first meeting at El Cajon, of that memorable
+      meeting at Chiricahua.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to ask you something,&rdquo; he went on. &ldquo;I've been wanting to know
+      something. That's why I've hung on here. You never spoke to me, never
+      noticed me, never gave me a chance to ask you. But now I'm going over&mdash;over
+      the border. And I want to know. Why did you refuse to listen to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At his last words that hot shame, tenfold more stifling than when it had
+      before humiliated Madeline, rushed over her, sending the scarlet in a wave
+      to her temples. It seemed that his words made her realize she was actually
+      face to face with him, that somehow a shame she would rather have died
+      than revealed was being liberated. Biting her lips to hold back speech,
+      she jerked on Majesty's bridle, struck him with her whip, spurred him.
+      Stewart's iron arm held the horse. Then Madeline, in a flash of passion,
+      struck at Stewart's face, missed it, struck again, and hit. With one pull,
+      almost drawing her from the saddle, he tore the whip from her hands. It
+      was not that action on his part, or the sudden strong masterfulness of his
+      look, so much as the livid mark on his face where the whip had lashed that
+      quieted, if it did not check, her fury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's nothing,&rdquo; he said, with something of his old audacity. &ldquo;That's
+      nothing to how you've hurt me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline battled with herself for control. This man would not be denied.
+      Never before had the hardness of his face, the flinty hardness of these
+      desert-bred men, so struck her with its revelation of the unbridled
+      spirit. He looked stern, haggard, bitter. The dark shade was changing to
+      gray&mdash;the gray to ash-color of passion. About him now there was only
+      the ghost of that finer, gentler man she had helped to bring into being.
+      The piercing dark eyes he bent upon her burned her, went through her as if
+      he were looking into her soul. Then Madeline's quick sight caught a
+      fleeting doubt, a wistfulness, a surprised and saddened certainty in his
+      eyes, saw it shade and pass away. Her woman's intuition, as keen as her
+      sight, told her Stewart in that moment had sustained a shock of bitter,
+      final truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the third time he repeated his question to her. Madeline did not
+      answer; she could not speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't know I love you, do you?&rdquo; he continued, passionately. &ldquo;That
+      ever since you stood before me in that hole at Chiricahua I've loved you?
+      You can't see I've been another man, loving you, working for you, living
+      for you? You won't believe I've turned my back on the old wild life, that
+      I've been decent and honorable and happy and useful&mdash;your kind of a
+      cowboy? You couldn't tell, though I loved you, that I never wanted you to
+      know it, that I never dared to think of you except as my angel, my holy
+      Virgin? What do you know of a man's heart and soul? How could you tell of
+      the love, the salvation of a man who's lived his life in the silence and
+      loneliness? Who could teach you the actual truth&mdash;that a wild cowboy,
+      faithless to mother and sister, except in memory, riding a hard, drunken
+      trail straight to hell; had looked into the face, the eyes of a beautiful
+      woman infinitely beyond him, above him, and had so loved her that he was
+      saved&mdash;that he became faithful again&mdash;that he saw her face in
+      every flower and her eyes in the blue heaven? Who could tell you, when at
+      night I stood alone under these Western stars, how deep in my soul I was
+      glad just to be alive, to be able to do something for you, to be near you,
+      to stand between you and worry, trouble, danger, to feel somehow that I
+      was a part, just a little part of the West you had come to love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline was mute. She heard her heart thundering in her ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart leaped at her. His powerful hand closed on her arm. She trembled.
+      His action presaged the old instinctive violence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but you think I kept Bonita up in the mountains, that I went secretly
+      to meet her, that all the while I served you I was&mdash;Oh, I know what
+      you think! I know now. I never knew till I made you look at me. Now, say
+      it! Speak!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      White-hot, blinded, utterly in the fiery grasp of passion, powerless to
+      stem the rush of a word both shameful and revealing and fatal, Madeline
+      cried:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;YES!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had wrenched that word from her, but he was not subtle enough, not
+      versed in the mystery of woman's motive enough, to divine the deep
+      significance of her reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For him the word had only literal meaning confirming the dishonor in which
+      she held him. Dropping her arm, he shrank back, a strange action for the
+      savage and crude man she judged him to be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that day at Chiricahua you spoke of faith,&rdquo; he burst out. &ldquo;You said
+      the greatest thing in the world was faith in human nature. You said the
+      finest men had been those who had fallen low and had risen. You said you
+      had faith in me! You made me have faith in myself!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His reproach, without bitterness or scorn, was a lash to her old egoistic
+      belief in her fairness. She had preached a beautiful principle that she
+      had failed to live up to. She understood his rebuke, she wondered and
+      wavered, but the affront to her pride had been too great, the tumult
+      within her breast had been too startlingly fierce; she could not speak,
+      the moment passed, and with it his brief, rugged splendor of simplicity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think I am vile,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You think that about Bonita! And all the
+      time I've been... I could make you ashamed&mdash;I could tell you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His passionate utterance ceased with a snap of his teeth. His lips set in
+      a thin, bitter line. The agitation of his face preceded a convulsive
+      wrestling of his shoulders. All this swift action denoted an inner combat,
+      and it nearly overwhelmed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; he panted. Was it his answer to some mighty temptation? Then,
+      like a bent sapling released, he sprang erect. &ldquo;But I'll be the man&mdash;the
+      dog&mdash;you think me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He laid hold of her arm with rude, powerful clutch. One pull drew her
+      sliding half out of the saddle into his arms. She fell with her breast
+      against his, not wholly free of stirrups or horse, and there she hung,
+      utterly powerless. Maddened, writhing, she tore to release herself. All
+      she could accomplish was to twist herself, raise herself high enough to
+      see his face. That almost paralyzed her. Did he mean to kill her? Then he
+      wrapped his arms around her and crushed her tighter, closer to him. She
+      felt the pound of his heart; her own seemed to have frozen. Then he
+      pressed his burning lips to hers. It was a long, terrible kiss. She felt
+      him shake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Stewart! I&mdash;implore&mdash;you&mdash;let&mdash;me&mdash;go!&rdquo; she
+      whispered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His white face loomed over hers. She closed her eyes. He rained kisses
+      upon her face, but no more upon her mouth. On her closed eyes, her hair,
+      her cheeks, her neck he pressed swift lips&mdash;lips that lost their fire
+      and grew cold. Then he released her, and, lifting and righting her in the
+      saddle, he still held her arm to keep her from falling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment Madeline sat on her horse with shut eyes. She dreaded the
+      light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now you can't say you've never been kissed,&rdquo; Stewart said. His voice
+      seemed a long way off. &ldquo;But that was coming to you, so be game. Here!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt something hard and cold and metallic thrust into her hand. He
+      made her fingers close over it, hold it. The feel of the thing revived
+      her. She opened her eyes. Stewart had given her his gun. He stood with his
+      broad breast against her knee, and she looked up to see that old mocking
+      smile on his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go ahead! Throw my gun on me! Be a thoroughbred!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline did not yet grasp his meaning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can put me down in that quiet place on the hill&mdash;beside Monty
+      Price.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline dropped the gun with a shuddering cry of horror. The sense of his
+      words, the memory of Monty, the certainty that she would kill Stewart if
+      she held the gun an instant longer, tortured the self-accusing cry from
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart stooped to pick up the weapon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might have saved me a hell of a lot of trouble,&rdquo; he said, with
+      another flash of the mocking smile. &ldquo;You're beautiful and sweet and proud,
+      but you're no thoroughbred! Majesty Hammond, adios!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart leaped for the saddle of his horse, and with the flying mount
+      crashed through the mesquites to disappear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXII. The Secret Told
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      In the shaded seclusion of her room, buried face down deep among the soft
+      cushions on her couch, Madeline Hammond lay prostrate and quivering under
+      the outrage she had suffered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The afternoon wore away; twilight fell; night came; and then Madeline rose
+      to sit by the window to let the cool wind blow upon her hot face. She
+      passed through hours of unintelligible shame and impotent rage and futile
+      striving to reason away her defilement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The train of brightening stars seemed to mock her with their unattainable
+      passionless serenity. She had loved them, and now she imagined she hated
+      them and everything connected with this wild, fateful, and abrupt West.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She would go home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Edith Wayne had been right; the West was no place for Madeline Hammond.
+      The decision to go home came easily, naturally, she thought, as the result
+      of events. It caused her no mental strife. Indeed, she fancied she felt
+      relief. The great stars, blinking white and cold over the dark crags,
+      looked down upon her, and, as always, after she had watched them for a
+      while they enthralled her. &ldquo;Under Western stars,&rdquo; she mused, thinking a
+      little scornfully of the romantic destiny they had blazed for her idle
+      sentiment. But they were beautiful; they were speaking; they were mocking;
+      they drew her. &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; she sighed. &ldquo;It will not be so very easy to leave
+      them, after all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline closed and darkened the window. She struck a light. It was
+      necessary to tell the anxious servants who knocked that she was well and
+      required nothing. A soft step on the walk outside arrested her. Who was
+      there&mdash;Nels or Nick Steele or Stillwell? Who shared the guardianship
+      over her, now that Monty Price was dead and that other&mdash;that savage&mdash;?
+      It was monstrous and unfathomable that she regretted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The light annoyed her. Complete darkness fitted her strange mood. She
+      retired and tried to compose herself to sleep. Sleep for her was not a
+      matter of will. Her cheeks burned so hotly that she rose to bathe them.
+      Cold water would not alleviate this burn, and then, despairing of
+      forgetfulness, she lay down again with a shameful gratitude for the cloak
+      of night. Stewart's kisses were there, scorching her lips, her closed
+      eyes, her swelling neck. They penetrated deeper and deeper into her blood,
+      into her heart, into her soul&mdash;the terrible farewell kisses of a
+      passionate, hardened man. Despite his baseness, he had loved her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Late in the night Madeline fell asleep. In the morning she was pale and
+      languid, but in a mental condition that promised composure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was considerably after her regular hour that Madeline repaired to her
+      office. The door was open, and just outside, tipped back in a chair, sat
+      Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mawnin', Miss Majesty,&rdquo; he said, as he rose to greet her with his usual
+      courtesy. There were signs of trouble in his lined face. Madeline shrank
+      inwardly, fearing his old lamentations about Stewart. Then she saw a
+      dusty, ragged pony in the yard and a little burro drooping under a heavy
+      pack. Both animals bore evidence of long, arduous travel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To whom do they belong?&rdquo; asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Them critters? Why, Danny Mains,&rdquo; replied Stillwell, with a cough that
+      betrayed embarrassment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Danny Mains?&rdquo; echoed Madeline, wonderingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, I said so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell was indeed not himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Danny Mains here?&rdquo; she asked, in sudden curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old cattleman nodded gloomily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yep, he's hyar, all right. Sloped in from the hills, an' he hollered to
+      see Bonita. He's locoed, too, about that little black-eyed hussy. Why, he
+      hardly said, 'Howdy, Bill,' before he begun to ask wild an' eager
+      questions. I took him in to see Bonita. He's been there more 'n a
+      half-hour now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Evidently Stillwell's sensitive feelings had been ruffled. Madeline's
+      curiosity changed to blank astonishment, which left her with a thrilling
+      premonition. She caught her breath. A thousand thoughts seemed thronging
+      for clear conception in her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rapid footsteps with an accompaniment of clinking spurs sounded in the
+      hallway. Then a young man ran out upon the porch. He resembled a cowboy in
+      his lithe build, his garb and action, in the way he wore his gun, but his
+      face, instead of being red, was clear brown tan. His eyes were blue; his
+      hair was light and curly. He was a handsome, frank-faced boy. At sight of
+      Madeline he slammed down his sombrero and, leaping at her, he possessed
+      himself of her hands. His swift violence not only alarmed her, but
+      painfully reminded her of something she wished to forget.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This cowboy bent his head and kissed her hands and wrung them, and when he
+      straightened up he was crying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, she's safe an' almost well, an' what I feared most ain't
+      so, thank God,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Sure I'll never be able to pay you for all
+      you've done for her. She's told me how she was dragged down here, how Gene
+      tried to save her, how you spoke up for Gene an' her, too, how Monty at
+      the last throwed his guns. Poor Monty! We were good friends, Monty an' I.
+      But it wasn't friendship for me that made Monty stand in there. He would
+      have saved her, anyway. Monty Price was the whitest man I ever knew.
+      There's Nels an' Nick an' Gene, he's been some friend to me; but Monty
+      Price was&mdash;he was grand. He never knew, any more than you or Bill,
+      here, or the boys, what Bonita was to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell's kind and heavy hand fell upon the cowboy's shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Danny, what's all this queer gab?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;An' you're takin' some
+      liberty with Miss Hammond, who never seen you before. Sure I'm makin'
+      allowance fer amazin' strange talk. I see you're not drinkin'. Mebbe
+      you're plumb locoed. Come, ease up now an' talk sense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cowboy's fine, frank face broke into a smile. He dashed the tears from
+      his eyes. Then he laughed. His laugh had a pleasant, boyish ring&mdash;a
+      happy ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, old pal, stand bridle down a minute, will you?&rdquo; Then he bowed to
+      Madeline. &ldquo;I beg your pardon, Miss Hammond, for seemin' rudeness. I'm
+      Danny Mains. An' Bonita is my wife. I'm so crazy glad she's safe an'
+      unharmed&mdash;so grateful to you that&mdash;why, sure it's a wonder I
+      didn't kiss you outright.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bonita's your wife!&rdquo; ejaculated Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure. We've been married for months,&rdquo; replied Danny, happily. &ldquo;Gene
+      Stewart did it. Good old Gene, he's hell on marryin'. I guess maybe I
+      haven't come to pay him up for all he's done for me! You see, I've been in
+      love with Bonita for two years. An' Gene&mdash;you know, Bill, what a way
+      Gene has with girls&mdash;he was&mdash;well, he was tryin' to get Bonita
+      to have me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's quick, varying emotions were swallowed up in a boundless
+      gladness. Something dark, deep, heavy, and somber was flooded from her
+      heart. She had a sudden rich sense of gratitude toward this smiling,
+      clean-faced cowboy whose blue eyes flashed through tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Danny Mains!&rdquo; she said, tremulously and smilingly. &ldquo;If you are as glad as
+      your news has made me&mdash;if you really think I merit such a reward&mdash;you
+      may kiss me outright.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With a bashful wonder, but with right hearty will, Danny Mains availed
+      himself of this gracious privilege. Stillwell snorted. The signs of his
+      phenomenal smile were manifest, otherwise Madeline would have thought that
+      snort an indication of furious disapproval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, straddle a chair,&rdquo; said Danny. &ldquo;You've gone back a heap these last
+      few months, frettin' over your bad boys, Danny an' Gene. You'll need
+      support under you while I'm throwin' my yarn. Story of my life, Bill.&rdquo; He
+      placed a chair for Madeline. &ldquo;Miss Hammond, beggin' your pardon again, I
+      want you to listen, also. You've the face an' eyes of a woman who loves to
+      hear of other people's happiness. Besides, somehow, it's easy for me to
+      talk lookin' at you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His manner subtly changed then. Possibly it took on a little swagger;
+      certainly he lost the dignity that he had shown under stress of feeling;
+      he was now more like a cowboy about to boast or affect some stunning
+      maneuver. Walking off the porch, he stood before the weary horse and
+      burro.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Played out!&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then with the swift violence so characteristic of men of his class he
+      slipped the pack from the burro and threw saddle and bridle from the
+      horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There! See 'em! Take a look at the last dog-gone weight you ever packed!
+      You've been some faithful to Danny Mains. An' Danny Mains pays! Never a
+      saddle again or a strap or a halter or a hobble so long as you live! So
+      long as you live nothin' but grass an' clover, an' cool water in shady
+      places, an' dusty swales to roll in an' rest an' sleep!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he untied the pack and, taking a small, heavy sack from it, he came
+      back upon the porch. Deliberately he dumped the contents of the sack at
+      Stillwell's feet. Piece after piece of rock thumped upon the floor. The
+      pieces were sharp, ragged, evidently broken from a ledge; the body of them
+      was white in color, with yellow veins and bars and streaks. Stillwell
+      grasped up one rock after another, stared and stuttered, put the rocks to
+      his lips, dug into them with his shaking fingers; then he lay back in his
+      chair, head against the wall, and as he gaped at Danny the old smile began
+      to transform his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord, Danny if you hevn't been an' gone an' struck it rich!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Danny regarded Stillwell with lofty condescension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some rich,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Now, Bill, what've we got here, say, offhand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Lord, Danny! I'm afraid to say. Look, Miss Majesty, jest look at the
+      gold. I've lived among prospectors an' gold-mines fer thirty years, an' I
+      never seen the beat of this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Lost Mine of the Padres!&rdquo; cried Danny, in stentorian voice. &ldquo;An' it
+      belongs to me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stillwell made some incoherent sound as he sat up fascinated, quite beside
+      himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, it was some long time ago since you saw me,&rdquo; said Danny. &ldquo;Fact is,
+      I know how you felt, because Gene kept me posted. I happened to run across
+      Bonita, an' I wasn't goin' to let her ride away alone, when she told me
+      she was in trouble. We hit the trail for the Peloncillos. Bonita had
+      Gene's horse, an' she was to meet him up on the trail. We got to the
+      mountains all right, an' nearly starved for a few days till Gene found us.
+      He had got in trouble himself an' couldn't fetch much with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We made for the crags an' built a cabin. I come down that day Gene sent
+      his horse Majesty to you. Never saw Gene so broken-hearted. Well, after he
+      sloped for the border Bonita an' I were hard put to it to keep alive. But
+      we got along, an' I think it was then she began to care a little for me.
+      Because I was decent. I killed cougars an' went down to Rodeo to get
+      bounties for the skins, an' bought grub an' supplies I needed. Once I went
+      to El Cajon an' run plumb into Gene. He was back from the revolution an'
+      cuttin' up some. But I got away from him after doin' all I could to drag
+      him out of town. A long time after that Gene trailed up to the crags an'
+      found us. Gene had stopped drinkin', he'd changed wonderful, was fine an'
+      dandy. It was then he began to pester the life out of me to make me marry
+      Bonita. I was happy, so was she, an' I was some scared of spoilin' it.
+      Bonita had been a little flirt, an' I was afraid she'd get shy of a
+      halter, so I bucked against Gene. But I was all locoed, as it turned out.
+      Gene would come up occasionally, packin' supplies for us, an' always he'd
+      get after me to do the right thing by Bonita. Gene's so dog-gone hard to
+      buck against! I had to give in, an' I asked Bonita to marry me. Well, she
+      wouldn't at first&mdash;said she wasn't good enough for me. But I saw the
+      marriage idea was workin' deep, an' I just kept on bein' as decent as I
+      knew how. So it was my wantin' to marry Bonita&mdash;my bein' glad to
+      marry her&mdash;that made her grow soft an' sweet an' pretty as&mdash;as a
+      mountain quail. Gene fetched up Padre Marcos, an' he married us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Danny paused in his narrative, breathing hard, as if the memory of the
+      incident described had stirred strong and thrilling feeling in him.
+      Stillwell's smile was rapturous. Madeline leaned toward Danny with her
+      eyes shining.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Hammond, an' you, Bill Stillwell, now listen, for this is strange
+      I've got to tell you. The afternoon Bonita an' I were married, when Gene
+      an' the padre had gone, I was happy one minute an' low-hearted the next. I
+      was miserable because I had a bad name. I couldn't buy even a decent dress
+      for my pretty wife. Bonita heard me, an' she was some mysterious. She told
+      me the story of the lost mine of the padres, an' she kissed me an made
+      joyful over me in the strangest way. I knew marriage went to women's
+      heads, an' I thought even Bonita had a spell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, she left me for a little, an' when she came back she wore some
+      pretty yellow flowers in her hair. Her eyes were big an' black an'
+      beautiful. She said some queer things about spirits rollin' rocks down the
+      canyon. Then she said she wanted to show me where she always sat an'
+      waited an' watched for me when I was away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She led me around under the crags to a long slope. It was some pretty
+      there&mdash;clear an' open, with a long sweep, an' the desert yawnin' deep
+      an' red. There were yellow flowers on that slope, the same kind she had in
+      her hair&mdash;the same kind that Apache girl wore hundreds of years ago
+      when she led the padre to the gold-mine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I thought of that, an' saw Bonita's eyes, an' then heard the strange
+      crack of rollin' rocks&mdash;heard them rattle down an' roll an' grow
+      faint&mdash;I was some out of my head. But not for long. Them rocks were
+      rollin' all right, only it was the weatherin' of the cliffs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' there under the crags was a gold pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I was worse than locoed. I went gold-crazy. I worked like seventeen
+      burros. Bill, I dug a lot of goldbearin' quartz. Bonita watched the trails
+      for me, brought me water. That was how she come to get caught by Pat Hawe
+      an' his guerrillas. Sure! Pat Hawe was so set on doin' Gene dirt that he
+      mixed up with Don Carlos. Bonita will tell you some staggerin' news about
+      that outfit. Just now my story is all gold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Danny Mains got up and kicked back his chair. Blue lightning gleamed from
+      his eyes as he thrust a hand toward Stillwell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, old pal, put her there&mdash;give me your hand,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You were
+      always my friend. You had faith in me. Well, Danny Mains owes you, an' he
+      owes Gene Stewart a good deal, an' Danny Mains pays. I want two pardners
+      to help me work my gold-mine. You an' Gene. If there's any ranch
+      hereabouts that takes your fancy I'll buy it. If Miss Hammond ever gets
+      tired of her range an stock an' home I'll buy them for Gene. If there's
+      any railroad or town round here that she likes I'll buy it. If I see
+      anythin' myself that I like I'll buy it. Go out; find Gene for me. I'm
+      achin' to see him, to tell him. Go fetch him; an' right here in this
+      house, with my wife an' Miss Hammond as witnesses, we'll draw up a
+      pardnership. Go find him, Bill. I want to show him this gold, show him how
+      Danny Mains pays! An' the only bitter drop in my cup to-day is that I
+      can't ever pay Monty Price.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      Madeline's lips tremblingly formed to tell Danny Mains and Stillwell that
+      the cowboy they wanted so much had left the ranch; but the flame of fine
+      loyalty that burned in Danny's eyes, the happiness that made the old
+      cattleman's face at once amazing and beautiful, stiffened her lips. She
+      watched the huge Stillwell and the little cowboy, both talking wildly, as
+      they walked off arm in arm to find Stewart. She imagined something of what
+      Danny's disappointment would be, of the elder man's consternation and
+      grief, when he learned Stewart had left for the border. At this juncture
+      she looked up to see a strange, yet familiar figure approaching. Padre
+      Marcos! Certain it was that Madeline felt herself trembling. What did his
+      presence mean on this day? He had always avoided meeting her whenever
+      possible. He had been exceedingly grateful for all she had done for his
+      people, his church, and himself; but he had never thanked her in person.
+      Perhaps he had come for that purpose now. But Madeline did not believe so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mention of Padre Marcos, sight of him, had always occasioned Madeline a
+      little indefinable shock; and now, as he stepped to the porch, a shrunken,
+      stooped, and sad-faced man, she was startled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The padre bowed low to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senora, will you grant me audience?&rdquo; he asked, in perfect English, and
+      his voice was low-toned and grave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, Padre Marcos,&rdquo; replied Madeline; and she led him into her
+      office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I beg to close the doors?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;It is a matter of great moment,
+      which you might not care to have any one hear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Wonderingly Madeline inclined her head. The padre gently closed one door
+      and then the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senora, I have come to disclose a secret&mdash;my own sinfulness in
+      keeping it&mdash;and to implore your pardon. Do you remember that night
+      Senor Stewart dragged me before you in the waiting-room at El Cajon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senora, since that night you have been Senor Stewart's wife!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline became as motionless as stone. She seemed to feel nothing, only
+      to hear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are Senor Stewart's wife. I have kept the secret under fear of death.
+      But I could keep it no longer. Senor Stewart may kill me now. Ah, Senora,
+      it is very strange to you. You were so frightened that night, you knew not
+      what happened. Senor Stewart threatened me. He forced you. He made me
+      speak the service. He made you speak the Spanish yes. And I, Senora,
+      knowing the deeds of these sinful cowboys, fearing worse than disgrace to
+      one so beautiful and so good as you, I could not do less than marry you
+      truly. At least you should be his wife. So I married you, truly, in the
+      service of my church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My God!&rdquo; cried Madeline, rising.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hear me! I implore you, Senora, hear me out! Do not leave me! Do not look
+      so&mdash;so&mdash;Ah, Senora, let me speak a word for Senor Stewart. He
+      was drunk that night. He did not know what he was about. In the morning he
+      came to me, made me swear by my cross that I would not reveal the disgrace
+      he had put upon you. If I did he would kill me. Life is nothing to the
+      American vaquero, Senora. I promised to respect his command. But I did not
+      tell him you were his wife. He did not dream I had truly married you. He
+      went to fight for the freedom of my country&mdash;Senora, he is one
+      splendid soldier&mdash;and I brooded over the sin of my secret. If he were
+      killed I need never tell you. But if he lived I knew that I must some day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Strange indeed that Senor Stewart and Padre Marcos should both come to
+      this ranch together. The great change your goodness wrought in my beloved
+      people was no greater than the change in Senor Stewart. Senora, I feared
+      you would go away one day, go back to your Eastern home, ignorant of the
+      truth. The time came when I confessed to Stewart&mdash;said I must tell
+      you. Senor, the man went mad with joy. I have never seen so supreme a joy.
+      He threatened no more to kill me. That strong, cruel vaquero begged me not
+      to tell the secret&mdash;never to reveal it. He confessed his love for you&mdash;a
+      love something like the desert storm. He swore by all that was once sacred
+      to him, and by my cross and my church, that he would be a good man, that
+      he would be worthy to have you secretly his wife for the little time life
+      left him to worship at your shrine. You needed never to know. So I held my
+      tongue, half pitying him, half fearing him, and praying for some God-sent
+      light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senora, it was a fool's paradise that Stewart lived in. I saw him, often.
+      When he took me up into the mountains to have me marry that wayward Bonita
+      and her lover I came to have respect for a man whose ideas about nature
+      and life and God were at a variance with mine. But the man is a worshiper
+      of God in all material things. He is a part of the wind and sun and desert
+      and mountain that have made him. I have never heard more beautiful words
+      than those in which he persuaded Bonita to accept Senor Mains, to forget
+      her old lovers, and henceforth to be happy. He is their friend. I wish I
+      could tell you what that means. It sounds so simple. It is really simple.
+      All great things are so. For Senor Stewart it was natural to be loyal to
+      his friend, to have a fine sense of the honor due to a woman who had loved
+      and given, to bring about their marriage, to succor them in their need and
+      loneliness. It was natural for him never to speak of them. It would have
+      been natural for him to give his life in their defense if peril menaced
+      them. Senora, I want you to understand that to me the man has the same
+      stability, the same strength, the same elements which I am in the habit of
+      attributing to the physical life around me in this wild and rugged
+      desert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline listened as one under a spell. It was not only that this
+      soft-voiced, eloquent priest knew how to move the heart, stir the soul;
+      but his defense, his praise of Stewart, if they had been couched in the
+      crude speech of cowboys, would have been a glory to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senora, I pray you, do not misunderstand my mission. Beyond my confession
+      to you I have only a duty to tell you of the man whose wife you are. But I
+      am a priest and I can read the soul. The ways of God are inscrutable. I am
+      only a humble instrument. You are a noble woman, and Senor Stewart is a
+      man of desert iron forged anew in the crucible of love. Quien sabe? Senor
+      Stewart swore he would kill me if I betrayed him. But he will not lift his
+      hand against me. For the man bears you a very great and pure love, and it
+      has changed him. I no longer fear his threat, but I do fear his anger,
+      should he ever know I spoke of his love, of his fool's paradise. I have
+      watched his dark face turned to the sun setting over the desert. I have
+      watched him lift it to the light of the stars. Think, my gracious and
+      noble lady, think what is his paradise? To love you above the spirit of
+      the flesh; to know you are his wife, his, never to be another's except by
+      his sacrifice; to watch you with a secret glory of joy and pride; to
+      stand, while he might, between you and evil; to find his happiness in
+      service; to wait, with never a dream of telling you, for the hour to come
+      when to leave you free he must go out and get himself shot! Senora, that
+      is beautiful, it is sublime, it is terrible. It has brought me to you with
+      my confession. I repeat, Senora, the ways of God are inscrutable. What is
+      the meaning of your influence upon Senor Stewart? Once he was merely an
+      animal, brutal, unquickened; now he is a man&mdash;I have not seen his
+      like! So I beseech you in my humble office as priest, as a lover of
+      mankind, before you send Stewart to his death, to be sure there is here no
+      mysterious dispensation of God. Love, that mighty and blessed and unknown
+      thing, might be at work. Senora, I have heard that somewhere in the rich
+      Eastern cities you are a very great lady. I know you are good and noble.
+      That is all I want to know. To me you are only a woman, the same as Senor
+      Stewart is only a man. So I pray you, Senora, before you let Stewart give
+      you freedom at such cost be sure you do not want his love, lest you cast
+      away something sweet and ennobling which you yourself have created.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXIII. The Light of Western Stars
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Blinded, like a wild creature, Madeline Hammond ran to her room. She felt
+      as if a stroke of lightning had shattered the shadowy substance of the
+      dream she had made of real life. The wonder of Danny Mains's story, the
+      strange regret with which she had realized her injustice to Stewart, the
+      astounding secret as revealed by Padre Marcos&mdash;these were forgotten
+      in the sudden consciousness of her own love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline fled as if pursued. With trembling hands she locked the doors,
+      drew the blinds of the windows that opened on the porch, pushed chairs
+      aside so that she could pace the length of her room. She was now alone,
+      and she walked with soft, hurried, uneven steps. She could be herself
+      here; she needed no mask; the long habit of serenely hiding the truth from
+      the world and from herself could be broken. The seclusion of her darkened
+      chamber made possible that betrayal of herself to which she was impelled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She paused in her swift pacing to and fro. She liberated the thought that
+      knocked at the gates of her mind. With quivering lips she whispered it.
+      Then she spoke aloud:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will say it&mdash;hear it. I&mdash;I love him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I love him!&rdquo; she repeated the astounding truth, but she doubted her
+      identity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I still Madeline Hammond? What has happened? Who am I?&rdquo; She stood
+      where the light from one unclosed window fell upon her image in the
+      mirror. &ldquo;Who is this woman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She expected to see a familiar, dignified person, a quiet, unruffled
+      figure, a tranquil face with dark, proud eyes and calm, proud lips. No,
+      she did not see Madeline Hammond. She did not see any one she knew. Were
+      her eyes, like her heart, playing her false? The figure before her was
+      instinct with pulsating life. The hands she saw, clasped together, pressed
+      deep into a swelling bosom that heaved with each panting breath. The face
+      she saw&mdash;white, rapt, strangely glowing, with parted, quivering lips,
+      with great, staring, tragic eyes&mdash;this could not be Madeline
+      Hammond's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet as she looked she knew no fancy could really deceive her, that she was
+      only Madeline Hammond come at last to the end of brooding dreams. She
+      swiftly realized the change in her, divined its cause and meaning,
+      accepted it as inevitable, and straightway fell back again into the mood
+      of bewildering amaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Calmness was unattainable. The surprise absorbed her. She could not go
+      back to count the innumerable, imperceptible steps of her undoing. Her old
+      power of reflecting, analyzing, even thinking at all, seemed to have
+      vanished in a pulse-stirring sense of one new emotion. She only felt all
+      her instinctive outward action that was a physical relief, all her
+      involuntary inner strife that was maddening, yet unutterably sweet; and
+      they seemed to be just one bewildering effect of surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a nature like hers, where strength of feeling had long been inhibited
+      as a matter of training, such a transforming surprise as sudden
+      consciousness of passionate love required time for its awakening, time for
+      its sway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By and by that last enlightening moment came, and Madeline Hammond faced
+      not only the love in her heart, but the thought of the man she loved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly, as she raged, something in her&mdash;this dauntless new
+      personality&mdash;took arms against indictment of Gene Stewart. Her mind
+      whirled about him and his life. She saw him drunk, brutal; she saw him
+      abandoned, lost. Then out of the picture she had of him thus slowly grew
+      one of a different man&mdash;weak, sick, changed by shock, growing strong,
+      strangely, spiritually altered, silent, lonely like an eagle, secretive,
+      tireless, faithful, soft as a woman, hard as iron to endure, and at the
+      last noble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She softened. In a flash her complex mood changed to one wherein she
+      thought of the truth, the beauty, the wonder of Stewart's uplifting.
+      Humbly she trusted that she had helped him to climb. That influence had
+      been the best she had ever exerted. It had wrought magic in her own
+      character. By it she had reached some higher, nobler plane of trust in
+      man. She had received infinitely more than she had given.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her swiftly flying memory seemed to assort a vast mine of treasures of the
+      past. Of that letter Stewart had written to her brother she saw vivid
+      words. But ah! she had known, and if it had not made any difference then,
+      now it made all in the world. She recalled how her loosened hair had blown
+      across his lips that night he had ridden down from the mountains carrying
+      her in his arms. She recalled the strange joy of pride in Stewart's eyes
+      when he had suddenly come upon her dressed to receive her Eastern guests
+      in the white gown with the red roses at her breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Swiftly as they had come these dreamful memories departed. There was to be
+      no rest for her mind. All she had thought and felt seemed only to presage
+      a tumult.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Heedless, desperate, she cast off the last remnant of self-control, turned
+      from the old proud, pale, cold, self-contained ghost of herself to face
+      this strange, strong, passionate woman. Then, with hands pressed to her
+      beating heart, with eyes shut, she listened to the ringing trip-hammer
+      voice of circumstance, of truth, of fatality. The whole story was
+      revealed, simple enough in the sum of its complicated details, strange and
+      beautiful in part, remorseless in its proof of great love on Stewart's
+      side, in dreaming blindness on her own, and, from the first fatal moment
+      to the last, prophetic of tragedy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, like a prisoner in a cell, began again to pace to and fro.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is all terrible!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I am his wife. His wife! That
+      meeting with him&mdash;the marriage&mdash;then his fall, his love, his
+      rise, his silence, his pride! And I can never be anything to him. Could I
+      be anything to him? I, Madeline Hammond? But I am his wife, and I love
+      him! His wife! I am the wife of a cowboy! That might be undone. Can my
+      love be undone? Ah, do I want anything undone? He is gone. Gone! Could he
+      have meant&mdash;I will not, dare not think of that. He will come back.
+      No, he never will come back. Oh, what shall I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      For Madeline Hammond the days following that storm of feeling were
+      leaden-footed, endless, hopeless&mdash;a long succession of weary hours,
+      sleepless hours, passionate hours, all haunted by a fear slowly growing
+      into torture, a fear that Stewart had crossed the border to invite the
+      bullet which would give her freedom. The day came when she knew this to be
+      true. The spiritual tidings reached her, not subtly as so many divinations
+      had come, but in a clear, vital flash of certainty. Then she suffered. She
+      burned inwardly, and the nature of that deep fire showed through her eyes.
+      She kept to herself, waiting, waiting for her fears to be confirmed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At times she broke out in wrath at the circumstances she had failed to
+      control, at herself, at Stewart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He might have learned from Ambrose!&rdquo; she exclaimed, sick with a
+      bitterness she knew was not consistent with her pride. She recalled
+      Christine's trenchant exposition of Ambrose's wooing: &ldquo;He tell me he love
+      me; he kees me; he hug me; he put me on his horse; he ride away with me;
+      he marry me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then in the next breath Madeline denied this insistent clamoring of a love
+      that was gradually breaking her spirit. Like a somber shadow remorse
+      followed her, shading blacker. She had been blind to a man's honesty,
+      manliness, uprightness, faith, and striving. She had been dead to love, to
+      nobility that she had herself created. Padre Marcos's grave, wise words
+      returned to haunt her. She fought her bitterness, scorned her
+      intelligence, hated her pride, and, weakening, gave up more and more to a
+      yearning, hopeless hope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had shunned the light of the stars as she had violently dismissed
+      every hinting suggestive memory of Stewart's kisses. But one night she
+      went deliberately to her window. There they shone. Her stars! Beautiful,
+      passionless as always, but strangely closer, warmer, speaking a kinder
+      language, helpful as they had never been, teaching her now that regret was
+      futile, revealing to her in their one grand, blazing task the supreme duty
+      of life&mdash;to be true.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Those shining stars made her yield. She whispered to them that they had
+      claimed her&mdash;the West claimed her&mdash;Stewart claimed her forever,
+      whether he lived or died. She gave up to her love. And it was as if he was
+      there in person, dark-faced, fire-eyed, violent in his action, crushing
+      her to his breast in that farewell moment, kissing her with one burning
+      kiss of passion, then with cold, terrible lips of renunciation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am your wife!&rdquo; she whispered to him. In that moment, throbbing,
+      exalted, quivering in her first sweet, tumultuous surrender to love, she
+      would have given her all, her life, to be in his arms again, to meet his
+      lips, to put forever out of his power any thought of wild sacrifice.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      And on the morning of the next day, when Madeline went out upon the porch,
+      Stillwell, haggard and stern, with a husky, incoherent word, handed her a
+      message from El Cajon. She read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      El Capitan Stewart captured by rebel soldiers in fight at Agua Prieta
+      yesterday. He was a sharpshooter in the Federal ranks. Sentenced to death
+      Thursday at sunset.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXIV. The Ride
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;Stillwell!&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      Madeline's cry was more than the utterance of a breaking heart. It was
+      full of agony. But also it uttered the shattering of a structure built of
+      false pride, of old beliefs, of bloodless standards, of ignorance of self.
+      It betrayed the final conquest of her doubts, and out of their darkness
+      blazed the unquenchable spirit of a woman who had found herself, her love,
+      her salvation, her duty to a man, and who would not be cheated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old cattleman stood mute before her, staring at her white face, at her
+      eyes of flame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stillwell! I am Stewart's wife!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My Gawd, Miss Majesty!&rdquo; he burst out. &ldquo;I knowed somethin' turrible was
+      wrong. Aw, sure it's a pity&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think I'll let him be shot when I know him now, when I'm no longer
+      blind, when I love him?&rdquo; she asked, with passionate swiftness. &ldquo;I will
+      save him. This is Wednesday morning. I have thirty-six hours to save his
+      life. Stillwell, send for Link and the car!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went into her office. Her mind worked with extraordinary rapidity and
+      clearness. Her plan, born in one lightning-like flash of thought,
+      necessitated the careful wording of telegrams to Washington, to New York,
+      to San Antonio. These were to Senators, Representatives, men high in
+      public and private life, men who would remember her and who would serve
+      her to their utmost. Never before had her position meant anything to her
+      comparable with what it meant now. Never in all her life had money seemed
+      the power that it was then. If she had been poor! A shuddering chill froze
+      the thought at its inception. She dispelled heartbreaking thoughts. She
+      had power. She had wealth. She would set into operation all the unlimited
+      means these gave her&mdash;the wires and pulleys and strings underneath
+      the surface of political and international life, the open, free,
+      purchasing value of money or the deep, underground, mysterious,
+      incalculably powerful influence moved by gold. She could save Stewart. She
+      must await results&mdash;deadlocked in feeling, strained perhaps almost
+      beyond endurance, because the suspense would be great; but she would allow
+      no possibility of failure to enter her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she went outside the car was there with Link, helmet in hand, a cool,
+      bright gleam in his eyes, and with Stillwell, losing his haggard misery,
+      beginning to respond to Madeline's spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Link, drive Stillwell to El Cajon in time for him to catch the El Paso
+      train,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Wait there for his return, and if any message comes
+      from him, telephone it at once to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she gave Stillwell the telegrams to send from El Cajon and drafts to
+      cash in El Paso. She instructed him to go before the rebel junta, then
+      stationed at Juarez, to explain the situation, to bid them expect
+      communications from Washington officials requesting and advising Stewart's
+      exchange as a prisoner of war, to offer to buy his release from the rebel
+      authorities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Stillwell had heard her through his huge, bowed form straightened, a
+      ghost of his old smile just moved his lips. He was no longer young, and
+      hope could not at once drive away stern and grim realities. As he bent
+      over her hand his manner appeared courtly and reverent. But either he was
+      speechless or felt the moment not one for him to break silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He climbed to a seat beside Link, who pocketed the watch he had been
+      studying and leaned over the wheel. There was a crack, a muffled sound
+      bursting into a roar, and the big car jerked forward to bound over the
+      edge of the slope, to leap down the long incline, to shoot out upon the
+      level valley floor and disappear in moving dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time in days Madeline visited the gardens, the corrals, the
+      lakes, the quarters of the cowboys. Though imagining she was calm, she
+      feared she looked strange to Nels, to Nick, to Frankie Slade, to those
+      boys best known to her. The situation for them must have been one of
+      tormenting pain and bewilderment. They acted as if they wanted to say
+      something to her, but found themselves spellbound. She wondered&mdash;did
+      they know she was Stewart's wife? Stillwell had not had time to tell them;
+      besides, he would not have mentioned the fact. These cowboys only knew
+      that Stewart was sentenced to be shot; they knew if Madeline had not been
+      angry with him he would not have gone in desperate fighting mood across
+      the border. She spoke of the weather, of the horses and cattle, asked Nels
+      when he was to go on duty, and turned away from the wide, sunlit,
+      adobe-arched porch where the cowboys stood silent and bareheaded. Then one
+      of her subtle impulses checked her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, you and Nick need not go on duty to-day,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I may want
+      you. I&mdash;I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hesitated, paused, and stood lingering there. Her glance had fallen
+      upon Stewart's big black horse prancing in a near-by corral.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have sent Stillwell to El Paso,&rdquo; she went on, in a low voice she failed
+      to hold steady. &ldquo;He will save Stewart. I have to tell you&mdash;I am
+      Stewart's wife!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt the stricken amaze that made these men silent and immovable. With
+      level gaze averted she left them. Returning to the house and her room, she
+      prepared for something&mdash;for what? To wait!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then a great invisible shadow seemed to hover behind her. She essayed many
+      tasks, to fail of attention, to find that her mind held only Stewart and
+      his fortunes. Why had he become a Federal? She reflected that he had won
+      his title, El Capitan, fighting for Madero, the rebel. But Madero was now
+      a Federal, and Stewart was true to him. In crossing the border had Stewart
+      any other motive than the one he had implied to Madeline in his mocking
+      smile and scornful words, &ldquo;You might have saved me a hell of a lot of
+      trouble!&rdquo; What trouble? She felt again the cold shock of contact with the
+      gun she had dropped in horror. He meant the trouble of getting himself
+      shot in the only way a man could seek death without cowardice. But had he
+      any other motive? She recalled Don Carlos and his guerrillas. Then the
+      thought leaped up in her mind with gripping power that Stewart meant to
+      hunt Don Carlos, to meet him, to kill him. It would be the deed of a
+      silent, vengeful, implacable man driven by wild justice such as had been
+      the deadly leaven in Monty Price. It was a deed to expect of Nels or Nick
+      Steel&mdash;and, aye, of Gene Stewart. Madeline felt regret that Stewart,
+      as he had climbed so high, had not risen above deliberate seeking to kill
+      his enemy, however evil that enemy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The local newspapers, which came regularly a day late from El Paso and
+      Douglas, had never won any particular interest from Madeline; now,
+      however, she took up any copies she could find and read all the
+      information pertaining to the revolution. Every word seemed vital to her,
+      of moving significant force.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      AMERICANS ROBBED BY MEXICAN REBELS
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MADERA, STATE OF CHIHUAHUA, MEXICO, July 17.&mdash;Having looted the
+      Madera Lumber Company's storehouses of $25,000 worth of goods and robbed
+      scores of foreigners of horses and saddles, the rebel command of Gen.
+      Antonio Rojas, comprising a thousand men, started westward to-day through
+      the state of Sonora for Agnaymas and Pacific coast points.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The troops are headed for Dolores, where a mountain pass leads into the
+      state of Sonora. Their entrance will be opposed by 1,000 Maderista
+      volunteers, who are reported to be waiting the rebel invasion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The railroad south of Madera is being destroyed and many Americans who
+      were traveling to Chihuahua from Juarez are marooned here.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      General Rojas executed five men while here for alleged offenses of a
+      trivial character. Gen. Rosalio y Hernandez, Lieut. Cipriano Amador, and
+      three soldiers were the unfortunates.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      WASHINGTON, July 17.&mdash;Somewhere in Mexico Patrick Dunne, an American
+      citizen, is in prison under sentence of death. This much and no more the
+      State Department learned through Representative Kinkaid of Nebraska.
+      Consular officers in various sections of Mexico have been directed to make
+      every effort to locate Dunne and save his life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      JUAREZ, MEXICO, July 31.&mdash;General Orozco, chief of the rebels,
+      declared to-day:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If the United States will throw down the barriers and let us have all the
+      ammunition we can buy, I promise in sixty days to have peace restored in
+      Mexico and a stable government in charge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      CASAS GRANDES, CHIHUAHUA, July 31.&mdash;Rebel soldiers looted many homes
+      of Mormons near here yesterday. All the Mormon families have fled to El
+      Paso. Although General Salazar had two of his soldiers executed yesterday
+      for robbing Mormons, he has not made any attempt to stop his men looting
+      the unprotected homes of Americans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Last night's and to-day's trains carried many Americans from Pearson,
+      Madera, and other localities outside the Mormon settlements. Refugees from
+      Mexico continued to pour into El Paso. About one hundred came last night,
+      the majority of whom were men. Heretofore few men came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline read on in feverish absorption. It was not a real war, but a
+      starving, robbing, burning, hopeless revolution. Five men executed for
+      alleged offenses of a trivial nature! What chance had, then, a Federal
+      prisoner, an enemy to be feared, an American cowboy in the clutches of
+      those crazed rebels?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline endured patiently, endured for long interminable hours while
+      holding to her hope with indomitable will.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No message came. At sunset she went outdoors, suffering a torment of
+      accumulating suspense. She faced the desert, hoping, praying for strength.
+      The desert did not influence her as did the passionless, unchangeable
+      stars that had soothed her spirit. It was red, mutable, shrouded in
+      shadows, terrible like her mood. A dust-veiled sunset colored the vast,
+      brooding, naked waste of rock and sand. The grim Chiricahua frowned black
+      and sinister. The dim blue domes of the Guadalupes seemed to whisper, to
+      beckon to her. Beyond them somewhere was Stewart, awaiting the end of a
+      few brief hours&mdash;hours that to her were boundless, endless,
+      insupportable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Night fell. But now the white, pitiless stars failed her. Then she sought
+      the seclusion and darkness of her room, there to lie with wide eyes,
+      waiting, waiting. She had always been susceptible to the somber, mystic
+      unrealities of the night, and now her mind slowly revolved round a vague
+      and monstrous gloom. Nevertheless, she was acutely sensitive to outside
+      impressions. She heard the measured tread of a guard, the rustle of wind
+      stirring the window-curtain, the remote, mournful wail of a coyote. By and
+      by the dead silence of the night insulated her with leaden oppression.
+      There was silent darkness for so long that when the window casements
+      showed gray she believed it was only fancy and that dawn would never come.
+      She prayed for the sun not to rise, not to begin its short twelve-hour
+      journey toward what might be a fatal setting for Stewart. But the dawn did
+      lighten, swiftly she thought, remorselessly. Daylight had broken, and this
+      was Thursday!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sharp ringing of the telephone bell startled her, roused her into action.
+      She ran to answer the call.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello&mdash;hello&mdash;Miss Majesty!&rdquo; came the hurried reply. &ldquo;This is
+      Link talkin'. Messages for you. Favorable, the operator said. I'm to ride
+      out with them. I'll come a-hummin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was all. Madeline heard the bang of the receiver as Stevens threw it
+      down. She passionately wanted to know more, but was immeasurably grateful
+      for so much! Favorable! Then Stillwell had been successful. Her heart
+      leaped. Suddenly she became weak and her hands failed of their accustomed
+      morning deftness. It took her what seemed a thousand years to dress.
+      Breakfast meant nothing to her except that it helped her to pass dragging
+      minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Finally a low hum, mounting swiftly to a roar and ending with a sharp
+      report, announced the arrival of the car. If her feet had kept pace with
+      her heart she would have raced out to meet Link. She saw him, helmet
+      thrown back, watch in hand, and he looked up at her with his cool, bright
+      smile, with his familiar apologetic manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fifty-three minutes, Miss Majesty,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but I hed to ride round a
+      herd of steers an' bump a couple off the trail.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave her a packet of telegrams. Madeline tore them open with shaking
+      fingers, began to read with swift, dim eyes. Some were from Washington,
+      assuring her of every possible service; some were from New York; others
+      written in Spanish were from El Paso, and these she could not wholly
+      translate in a brief glance. Would she never find Stillwell's message? It
+      was the last. It was lengthy. It read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bought Stewart's release. Also arranged for his transfer as prisoner of
+      war. Both matters official. He's safe if we can get notice to his captors.
+      Not sure I've reached them by wire. Afraid to trust it. You go with Link
+      to Agua Prieta. Take the messages sent you in Spanish. They will protect
+      you and secure Stewart's freedom. Take Nels with you. Stop for nothing.
+      Tell Link all&mdash;trust him&mdash;let him drive that car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      STILLWELL.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      The first few lines of Stillwell's message lifted Madeline to the heights
+      of thanksgiving and happiness. Then, reading on, she experienced a check,
+      a numb, icy, sickening pang. At the last line she flung off doubt and
+      dread, and in white, cold passion faced the issue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Read,&rdquo; she said, briefly, handing the telegram to Link. He scanned it and
+      then looked blankly up at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Link, do you know the roads, the trails&mdash;the desert between here and
+      Agua Prieta?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thet's sure my old stampin'-ground. An' I know Sonora, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must reach Agua Prieta before sunset&mdash;long before, so if Stewart
+      is in some near-by camp we can get to it in&mdash;in time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, it ain't possible!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Stillwell's crazy to say
+      thet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Link, can an automobile be driven from here into northern Mexico?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure. But it 'd take time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must do it in little time,&rdquo; she went on, in swift eagerness.
+      &ldquo;Otherwise Stewart may be&mdash;probably will be&mdash;be shot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Link Stevens appeared suddenly to grow lax, shriveled, to lose all his
+      peculiar pert brightness, to weaken and age.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm only a&mdash;a cowboy, Miss Majesty.&rdquo; He almost faltered. It was a
+      singular change in him. &ldquo;Thet's an awful ride&mdash;down over the border.
+      If by some luck I didn't smash the car I'd turn your hair gray. You'd
+      never be no good after thet ride!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am Stewart's wife,&rdquo; she answered him and she looked at him, not
+      conscious of any motive to persuade or allure, but just to let him know
+      the greatness of her dependence upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He started violently&mdash;the old action of Stewart, the memorable action
+      of Monty Price. This man was of the same wild breed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Madeline's words flowed in a torrent. &ldquo;I am Stewart's wife. I love
+      him; I have been unjust to him; I must save him. Link, I have faith in
+      you. I beseech you to do your best for Stewart's sake&mdash;for my sake.
+      I'll risk the ride gladly&mdash;bravely. I'll not care where or how you
+      drive. I'd far rather plunge into a canyon&mdash;go to my death on the
+      rocks&mdash;than not try to save Stewart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      How beautiful the response of this rude cowboy&mdash;to realize his
+      absolute unconsciousness of self, to see the haggard shade burn out of his
+      face, the old, cool, devil-may-care spirit return to his eyes, and to feel
+      something wonderful about him then! It was more than will or daring or
+      sacrifice. A blood-tie might have existed between him and Madeline. She
+      sensed again that indefinable brother-like quality, so fine, so almost
+      invisible, which seemed to be an inalienable trait in these wild cowboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, thet ride figgers impossible, but I'll do it!&rdquo; he replied.
+      His cool, bright glance thrilled her. &ldquo;I'll need mebbe half an hour to go
+      over the car an' to pack on what I'll want.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She could not thank him, and her reply was merely a request that he tell
+      Nels and other cowboys off duty to come up to the house. When Link had
+      gone Madeline gave a moment's thought to preparations for the ride. She
+      placed what money she had and the telegrams in a satchel. The gown she had
+      on was thin and white, not suitable for travel, but she would not risk the
+      losing of one moment in changing it. She put on a long coat and wound
+      veils round her head and neck, arranging them in a hood so she could cover
+      her face when necessary. She remembered to take an extra pair of goggles
+      for Nels's use, and then, drawing on her gloves, she went out ready for
+      the ride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A number of cowboys were waiting. She explained the situation and left
+      them in charge of her home. With that she asked Nels to accompany her down
+      into the desert. He turned white to his lips, and this occasioned Madeline
+      to remember his mortal dread of the car and Link's driving.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nels, I'm sorry to ask you,&rdquo; she added. &ldquo;I know you hate the car. But I
+      need you&mdash;may need you, oh! so much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Miss Majesty, thet's shore all a mistaken idee of yours about me
+      hatin' the car,&rdquo; he said, in his slow, soft drawl. &ldquo;I was only jealous of
+      Link; an' the boys, they made thet joke up on me about bein' scared of
+      ridin' fast. Shore I'm powerful proud to go. An' I reckon if you hedn't
+      asked me my feelin's might hev been some hurt. Because if you're goin'
+      down among the Greasers you want me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His cool, easy speech, his familiar swagger, the smile with which he
+      regarded her did not in the least deceive Madeline. The gray was still in
+      his face. Incomprehensible as it seemed, Nels had a dread, an uncanny
+      fear, and it was of that huge white automobile. But he lied about it. Here
+      again was that strange quality of faithfulness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline heard the buzz of the car. Link appeared driving up the slope. He
+      made a short, sliding turn and stopped before the porch. Link had tied two
+      long, heavy planks upon the car, one on each side, and in every available
+      space he had strapped extra tires. A huge cask occupied one back seat, and
+      another seat was full of tools and ropes. There was just room in this rear
+      part of the car for Nels to squeeze in. Link put Madeline in front beside
+      him, then bent over the wheel. Madeline waved her hand at the silent
+      cowboys on the porch. Not an audible good-by was spoken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The car glided out of the yard, leaped from level to slope, and started
+      swiftly down the road, out into the open valley. Each stronger rush of dry
+      wind in Madeline's face marked the increase of speed. She took one glance
+      at the winding cattle-road, smooth, unobstructed, disappearing in the gray
+      of distance. She took another at the leather-garbed, leather-helmeted
+      driver beside her, and then she drew the hood of veils over her face and
+      fastened it round her neck so there was no possibility of its blowing
+      loose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Harder and stronger pressed the wind till it was like sheeted lead forcing
+      her back in her seat. There was a ceaseless, intense, inconceivably rapid
+      vibration under her; occasionally she felt a long swing, as if she were to
+      be propelled aloft; but no jars disturbed the easy celerity of the car.
+      The buzz, the roar of wheels, of heavy body in flight, increased to a
+      continuous droning hum. The wind became an insupportable body moving
+      toward her, crushing her breast, making the task of breathing most
+      difficult. To Madeline the time seemed to fly with the speed of miles. A
+      moment came when she detected a faint difference in hum and rush and
+      vibration, in the ceaseless sweeping of the invisible weight against her.
+      This difference became marked. Link was reducing speed. Then came swift
+      change of all sensation, and she realized the car had slowed to normal
+      travel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline removed her hood and goggles. It was a relief to breathe freely,
+      to be able to use her eyes. To her right, not far distant, lay the little
+      town of Chiricahua. Sight of it made her remember Stewart in a way strange
+      to her constant thought of him. To the left inclined the gray valley. The
+      red desert was hidden from view, but the Guadalupe Mountains loomed close
+      in the southwest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Opposite Chiricahua, where the road forked, Link Stevens headed the car
+      straight south and gradually increased speed. Madeline faced another
+      endless gray incline. It was the San Bernardino Valley. The singing of the
+      car, the stinging of the wind warned her to draw the hood securely down
+      over her face again, and then it was as if she was riding at night. The
+      car lurched ahead, settled into that driving speed which wedged Madeline
+      back as in a vise. Again the moments went by fleet as the miles.
+      Seemingly, there was an acceleration of the car till it reached a certain
+      swiftness&mdash;a period of time in which it held that pace, and then a
+      diminishing of all motion and sound which contributed to Madeline's acute
+      sensation. Uncovering her face, she saw Link was passing another village.
+      Could it be Bernardino? She asked Link&mdash;repeated the question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Eighty miles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Link did not this time apologize for the work of his machine. Madeline
+      marked the omission with her first thrill of the ride. Leaning over, she
+      glanced at Link's watch, which he had fastened upon the wheel in front of
+      his eyes. A quarter to ten! Link had indeed made short work of the valley
+      miles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beyond Bernardino Link sheered off the road and put the car to a long,
+      low-rising slope. Here the valley appeared to run south under the dark
+      brows of the Guadalupes. Link was heading southwest. Madeline observed
+      that the grass began to fail as they climbed the ridge; bare, white, dusty
+      spots appeared; there were patches of mesquite and cactus and scattering
+      areas of broken rock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She might have been prepared for what she saw from the ridge-top. Beneath
+      them the desert blazed. Seen from afar, it was striking enough, but riding
+      down into its red jaws gave Madeline the first affront to her imperious
+      confidence. All about her ranch had been desert, the valleys were desert;
+      but this was different. Here began the red desert, extending far into
+      Mexico, far across Arizona and California to the Pacific. She saw a bare,
+      hummocky ridge, down which the car was gliding, bounding, swinging, and
+      this long slant seemed to merge into a corrugated world of rock and sand,
+      patched by flats and basins, streaked with canyons and ranges of ragged,
+      saw-toothed stone. The distant Sierra Madres were clearer, bluer, less
+      smoky and suggestive of mirage than she had ever seen them. Madeline's
+      sustaining faith upheld her in the face of this appalling obstacle. Then
+      the desert that had rolled its immensity beneath her gradually began to
+      rise, to lose its distant margins, to condense its varying lights and
+      shades, at last to hide its yawning depths and looming heights behind red
+      ridges, which were only little steps, little outposts, little landmarks at
+      its gates.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bouncing of the huge car, throwing Madeline up, directed her attention
+      and fastened it upon the way Link Stevens was driving and upon the
+      immediate foreground. Then she discovered that he was following an old
+      wagon-road. At the foot of that long slope they struck into rougher
+      ground, and here Link took to a cautious zigzag course. The wagon-road
+      disappeared and then presently reappeared. But Link did not always hold to
+      it. He made cuts, detours, crosses, and all the time seemed to be getting
+      deeper into a maze of low, red dunes, of flat canyon-beds lined by banks
+      of gravel, of ridges mounting higher. Yet Link Stevens kept on and never
+      turned back. He never headed into a place that he could not pass. Up to
+      this point of travel he had not been compelled to back the car, and
+      Madeline began to realize that it was the cowboy's wonderful judgment of
+      ground that made advance possible. He knew the country; he was never at a
+      loss; after making a choice of direction, he never hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then at the bottom of a wide canyon he entered a wash where the wheels
+      just barely turned in dragging sand. The sun beat down white-hot, the dust
+      arose, there was not a breath of wind; and no sound save the slide of a
+      rock now and then down the weathered slopes and the labored chugging of
+      the machine. The snail pace, like the sand at the wheels, began to drag at
+      Madeline's faith. Link gave over the wheel to Madeline, and, leaping out,
+      he called Nels. When they untied the long planks and laid them straight in
+      front for the wheels to pass over Madeline saw how wise had been Link's
+      forethought. With the aid of those planks they worked the car through sand
+      and gravel otherwise impossible to pass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This canyon widened and opened into space affording an unobstructed view
+      for miles. The desert sloped up in steps, and in the morning light, with
+      the sun bright on the mesas and escarpments, it was gray, drab, stone,
+      slate, yellow, pink, and, dominating all, a dull rust-red. There was level
+      ground ahead, a wind-swept floor as hard as rock. Link rushed the car over
+      this free distance. Madeline's ears filled with a droning hum like the
+      sound of a monstrous, hungry bee and with a strange, incessant crinkle
+      which she at length guessed to be the spreading of sheets of gravel from
+      under the wheels. The giant car attained such a speed that Madeline could
+      only distinguish the colored landmarks to the fore, and these faded as the
+      wind stung her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Link began the ascent of the first step, a long, sweeping, barren
+      waste with dunes of wonderful violet and heliotrope hues. Here were
+      well-defined marks of an old wagon-road lately traversed by cattle. The
+      car climbed steadily, surmounted the height, faced another long bench that
+      had been cleaned smooth by desert winds. The sky was an intense, light,
+      steely blue, hard on the eyes. Madeline veiled her face, and did not
+      uncover it until Link had reduced the racing speed. From the summit of the
+      next ridge she saw more red ruin of desert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A deep wash crossing the road caused Link Stevens to turn due south. There
+      was a narrow space along the wash just wide enough for the car. Link
+      seemed oblivious to the fact that the outside wheels were perilously close
+      to the edge. Madeline heard the rattle of loosened gravel and earth
+      sliding into the gully. The wash widened and opened out into a sandy flat.
+      Link crossed this and turned up on the opposite side. Rocks impeded the
+      progress of the car, and these had to be rolled out of the way. The
+      shelves of silt, apparently ready to slide with the slightest weight, the
+      little tributary washes, the boulder-strewn stretches of slope, the narrow
+      spaces allowing no more than a foot for the outside wheels, the
+      spear-pointed cactus that had to be avoided&mdash;all these obstacles were
+      as nothing to the cowboy driver. He kept on, and when he came to the road
+      again he made up for the lost time by speed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another height was reached, and here Madeline fancied that Link had driven
+      the car to the summit of a high pass between two mountain ranges. The
+      western slope of that pass appeared to be exceedingly rough and broken.
+      Below it spread out another gray valley, at the extreme end of which
+      glistened a white spot that Link grimly called Douglas. Part of that white
+      spot was Agua Prieta, the sister town across the line. Madeline looked
+      with eyes that would fain have pierced the intervening distance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The descent of the pass began under difficulties. Sharp stones and cactus
+      spikes penetrated the front tires, bursting them with ripping reports. It
+      took time to replace them. The planks were called into requisition to
+      cross soft places. A jagged point of projecting rock had to be broken with
+      a sledge. At length a huge stone appeared to hinder any further advance.
+      Madeline caught her breath. There was no room to turn the car. But Link
+      Stevens had no intention of such a thing. He backed the car to a
+      considerable distance, then walked forward. He appeared to be busy around
+      the boulder for a moment and returned down the road on the run. A heavy
+      explosion, a cloud of dust, and a rattle of falling fragments told
+      Madeline that her indomitable driver had cleared a passage with dynamite.
+      He seemed to be prepared for every emergency. Madeline looked to see what
+      effect the discovery of Link carrying dynamite would have upon the silent
+      Nels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shore, now, Miss Majesty, there ain't nothin' goin' to stop Link,&rdquo; said
+      Nels, with a reassuring smile. The significance of the incident had not
+      dawned upon Nels, or else he was heedless of it. After all, he was afraid
+      only of the car and Link, and that fear was an idiosyncrasy. Madeline
+      began to see her cowboy driver with clearer eyes and his spirit awoke
+      something in her that made danger of no moment. Nels likewise subtly
+      responded, and, though he was gray-faced, tight-lipped, his eyes took on
+      the cool, bright gleam of Link's.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cactus barred the way, rocks barred the way, gullies barred the way, and
+      these Nels addressed in the grim humor with which he was wont to view
+      tragic things. A mistake on Link's part, a slip of a wheel, a bursting of
+      a tire at a critical moment, an instant of the bad luck which might happen
+      a hundred times on a less perilous ride&mdash;any one of these might spell
+      disaster for the car, perhaps death to the occupants. Again and again Link
+      used the planks to cross washes in sand. Sometimes the wheels ran all the
+      length of the planks, sometimes slipped off. Presently Link came to a
+      ditch where water had worn deep into the road. Without hesitation he
+      placed them, measuring distance carefully, and then started across. The
+      danger was in ditching the machine. One of the planks split, sagged a
+      little, but Link made the crossing without a slip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The road led round under an overhanging cliff and was narrow, rocky, and
+      slightly downhill. Bidding Madeline and Nels walk round this hazardous
+      corner, Link drove the car. Madeline expected to hear it crash down into
+      the canyon, but presently she saw Link waiting to take them aboard again.
+      Then came steeper parts of the road, places that Link could run down if he
+      had space below to control the car, and on the other hand places where the
+      little inclines ended in abrupt ledges upon one side or a declivity upon
+      the other. Here the cowboy, with ropes on the wheels and half-hitches upon
+      the spurs of rock, let the car slide down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once at a particularly bad spot Madeline exclaimed involuntarily, &ldquo;Oh,
+      time is flying!&rdquo; Link Stevens looked up at her as if he had been reproved
+      for his care. His eyes shone like the glint of steel on ice. Perhaps that
+      utterance of Madeline's was needed to liberate his recklessness to its
+      utmost. Certainly he put the car to seemingly impossible feats. He rimmed
+      gullies, he hurdled rising ground, he leaped little breaks in the even
+      road. He made his machine cling like a goat to steep inclines; he rounded
+      corners with the inside wheels higher than the outside; he passed over
+      banks of soft earth that caved in the instant he crossed weak places. He
+      kept on and on, threading tortuous passages through rock-strewn patches,
+      keeping to the old road where it was clear, abandoning it for open spaces,
+      and always going down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length a mile of clean, brown slope, ridged and grooved like a
+      washboard, led gently down to meet the floor of the valley, where the
+      scant grama-grass struggled to give a tinge of gray. The road appeared to
+      become more clearly defined, and could be seen striking straight across
+      the valley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To Madeline's dismay, that road led down to a deep, narrow wash. It
+      plunged on one side, ascended on the other at a still steeper angle. The
+      crossing would have been laborsome for a horse; for an automobile it was
+      unpassable. Link turned the car to the right along the rim and drove as
+      far along the wash as the ground permitted. The gully widened, deepened
+      all the way. Then he took the other direction. When he made this turn
+      Madeline observed that the sun had perceptibly begun its slant westward.
+      It shone in her face, glaring and wrathful. Link drove back to the road,
+      crossed it, and kept on down the line of the wash. It was a deep cut in
+      red earth, worn straight down by swift water in the rainy seasons. It
+      narrowed. In some places it was only five feet wide. Link studied these
+      points and looked up the slope, and seemed to be making deductions. The
+      valley was level now, and there were nothing but little breaks in the rim
+      of the wash. Link drove mile after mile, looking for a place to cross, and
+      there was none. Finally progress to the south was obstructed by impassable
+      gullies where the wash plunged into the head of a canyon. It was necessary
+      to back the car a distance before there was room to turn. Madeline looked
+      at the imperturbable driver. His face revealed no more than the same old
+      hard, immutable character. When he reached the narrowest points, which had
+      so interested him, he got out of the car and walked from place to place.
+      Once with a little jump he cleared the wash. Then Madeline noted that the
+      farther rim was somewhat lower. In a flash she divined Link's intention.
+      He was hunting a place to jump the car over the crack in the ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon he found one that seemed to suit him, for he tied his red scarf upon
+      a greasewood-bush. Then, returning to the car, he clambered in, and,
+      muttering, broke his long silence: &ldquo;This ain't no air-ship, but I've
+      outfiggered thet damn wash.&rdquo; He backed up the gentle slope and halted just
+      short of steeper ground. His red scarf waved in the wind. Hunching low
+      over the wheel, he started, slowly at first, then faster, and then faster.
+      The great car gave a spring like a huge tiger. The impact of suddenly
+      formed wind almost tore Madeline out of her seat. She felt Nels's powerful
+      hands on her shoulders. She closed her eyes. The jolting headway of the
+      car gave place to a gliding rush. This was broken by a slight jar, and
+      then above the hum and roar rose a cowboy yell. Madeline waited with
+      strained nerves for the expected crash. It did not come. Opening her eyes,
+      she saw the level valley floor without a break. She had not even noticed
+      the instant when the car had shot over the wash.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A strange breathlessness attacked her, and she attributed it to the
+      celerity with which she was being carried along. Pulling the hood down
+      over her face, she sank low in the seat. The whir of the car now seemed to
+      be a world-filling sound. Again the feeling of excitement, the poignancy
+      of emotional heights, the ever-present impending sense of catastrophe
+      became held in abeyance to the sheer intensity of physical sensations.
+      There came a time when all her strength seemed to unite in an effort to
+      lift her breast against the terrific force of the wind&mdash;to draw air
+      into her flattened lungs. She became partly dazed. The darkness before her
+      eyes was not all occasioned by the blood that pressed like a stone mask on
+      her face. She had a sense that she was floating, sailing, drifting,
+      reeling, even while being borne swiftly as a thunderbolt. Her hands and
+      arms were immovable under the weight of mountains. There was a long, blank
+      period from which she awakened to feel an arm supporting her. Then she
+      rallied. The velocity of the car had been cut to the speed to which she
+      was accustomed. Throwing back the hood, she breathed freely again,
+      recovered fully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The car was bowling along a wide road upon the outskirts of a city.
+      Madeline asked what place it could be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Douglas,&rdquo; replied Link. &ldquo;An' jest around is Agua Prieta!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That last name seemed to stun Madeline. She heard no more, and saw little
+      until the car stopped. Nels spoke to some one. Then sight of khaki-clad
+      soldiers quickened Madeline's faculties. She was on the boundary-line
+      between the United States and Mexico, and Agua Prieta, with its white and
+      blue walled houses, its brown-tiled roofs, lay before her. A soldier,
+      evidently despatched by Nels, returned and said an officer would come at
+      once. Madeline's attention was centered in the foreground, upon the guard
+      over the road, upon the dry, dusty town beyond; but she was aware of noise
+      and people in the rear. A cavalry officer approached the car, stared, and
+      removed his sombrero.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you tell me anything about Stewart, the American cowboy who was
+      captured by rebels a few days ago?&rdquo; asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied the officer. &ldquo;There was a skirmish over the line between a
+      company of Federals and a large force of guerrillas and rebels. The
+      Federals were driven west along the line. Stewart is reported to have done
+      reckless fighting and was captured. He got a Mexican sentence. He is known
+      here along the border, and the news of his capture stirred up excitement.
+      We did all we could to get his release. The guerrillas feared to execute
+      him here, and believed he might be aided to escape. So a detachment
+      departed with him for Mezquital.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was sentenced to be shot Thursday at sunset&mdash;to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. It was rumored there was a personal resentment against Stewart. I
+      regret that I can't give you definite information. If you are friends of
+      Stewart&mdash;relatives&mdash;I might find&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am his wife,&rdquo; interrupted Madeline. &ldquo;Will you please read these.&rdquo; She
+      handed him the telegrams. &ldquo;Advise me&mdash;help me, if you can?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With a wondering glance at her the officer received the telegrams. He read
+      several, and whistled low in amaze. His manner became quick, alert,
+      serious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't read these written in Spanish, but I know the names signed.&rdquo;
+       Swiftly he ran through the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, these mean Stewart's release has been authorized. They explain
+      mysterious rumors we have heard here. Greaser treachery! For some strange
+      reason messages from the rebel junta have failed to reach their
+      destination. We heard reports of an exchange for Stewart, but nothing came
+      of it. No one departed for Mezquital with authority. What an outrage!
+      Come, I'll go with you to General Salazar, the rebel chief in command. I
+      know him. Perhaps we can find out something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nels made room for the officer. Link sent the car whirring across the line
+      into Mexican territory. Madeline's sensibilities were now exquisitely
+      alive. The white road led into Agua Prieta, a town of colored walls and
+      roofs. Goats and pigs and buzzards scattered before the roar of the
+      machine. Native women wearing black mantles peeped through iron-barred
+      windows. Men wearing huge sombreros, cotton shirts and trousers, bright
+      sashes round their waists, and sandals, stood motionless, watching the car
+      go by. The road ended in an immense plaza, in the center of which was a
+      circular structure that in some measure resembled a corral. It was a
+      bull-ring, where the national sport of bull-fighting was carried on. Just
+      now it appeared to be quarters for a considerable army. Ragged, unkempt
+      rebels were everywhere, and the whole square was littered with tents,
+      packs, wagons, arms. There were horses, mules, burros, and oxen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The place was so crowded that Link was compelled to drive slowly up to the
+      entrance to the bull-ring. Madeline caught a glimpse of tents inside, then
+      her view was obstructed by a curious, pressing throng. The cavalry officer
+      leaped from the car and pushed his way into the entrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Link, do you know the road to this Mezquital?&rdquo; asked Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I've been there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How far is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aw, not so very far,&rdquo; he mumbled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Link! How many miles?&rdquo; she implored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon only a few.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline knew that he lied. She asked him no more; nor looked at him, nor
+      at Nels. How stifling was this crowded, ill-smelling plaza! The sun, red
+      and lowering, had sloped far down in the west, but still burned with
+      furnace heat. A swarm of flies whirled over the car. The shadows of
+      low-sailing buzzards crossed Madeline's sight. Then she saw a row of the
+      huge, uncanny black birds sitting upon the tiled roof of a house. They had
+      neither an air of sleeping nor resting. They were waiting. She fought off
+      a horrible ghastly idea before its full realization. These rebels and
+      guerrillas&mdash;what lean, yellow, bearded wretches! They curiously
+      watched Link as he went working over the car. No two were alike, and all
+      were ragged. They had glittering eyes sunk deep in their heads. They wore
+      huge sombreros of brown and black felt, of straw, of cloth. Every man wore
+      a belt or sash into which was thrust some kind of weapon. Some wore boots,
+      some shoes, some moccasins, some sandals, and many were barefooted. They
+      were an excited, jabbering, gesticulating mob. Madeline shuddered to think
+      how a frenzy to spill blood could run through these poor revolutionists.
+      If it was liberty they fought for, they did not show the intelligence in
+      their faces. They were like wolves upon a scent. They affronted her,
+      shocked her. She wondered if their officers were men of the same class.
+      What struck her at last and stirred pity in her was the fact that every
+      man of the horde her swift glance roamed over, however dirty and
+      bedraggled he was, wore upon him some ornament, some tassel or fringe or
+      lace, some ensign, some band, bracelet, badge, or belt, some twist of
+      scarf, something that betrayed the vanity which was the poor jewel of
+      their souls. It was in the race.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the crowd parted to let the cavalry officer and a rebel of
+      striking presence get to the car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam, it is as I suspected,&rdquo; said the officer, quickly. &ldquo;The messages
+      directing Stewart's release never reached Salazar. They were intercepted.
+      But even without them we might have secured Stewart's exchange if it had
+      not been for the fact that one of his captors wanted him shot. This
+      guerrilla intercepted the orders, and then was instrumental in taking
+      Stewart to Mezquital. It is exceedingly sad. Why, he should be a free man
+      this instant. I regret&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who did this&mdash;this thing?&rdquo; cried Madeline, cold and sick. &ldquo;Who is
+      the guerrilla?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senor Don Carlos Martinez. He has been a bandit, a man of influence in
+      Sonora. He is more of a secret agent in the affairs of the revolution than
+      an active participator. But he has seen guerrilla service.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don Carlos! Stewart in his power! O God!&rdquo; Madeline sank down, almost
+      overcome. Then two great hands, powerful, thrilling, clasped her
+      shoulders, and Nels bent over her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Majesty, shore we're wastin' time here,&rdquo; he said. His voice, like
+      his hands, was uplifting. She wheeled to him in trembling importunity. How
+      cold, bright, blue the flash of his eyes! They told Madeline she must not
+      weaken. But she could not speak her thought to Nels&mdash;could only look
+      at Link.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It figgers impossible, but I'll do it!&rdquo; said Link Stevens, in answer to
+      her voiceless query. The cold, grim, wild something about her cowboys
+      blanched Madeline's face, steeled her nerve, called to the depths of her
+      for that last supreme courage of a woman. The spirit of the moment was
+      nature with Link and Nels; with her it must be passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can I get a permit to go into the interior&mdash;to Mezquital?&rdquo; asked
+      Madeline of the officer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are going on? Madam, it's a forlorn hope. Mezquital is a hundred
+      miles away. But there's a chance&mdash;the barest chance if your man can
+      drive this car. The Mexicans are either murderous or ceremonious in their
+      executions. The arrangements for Stewart's will be elaborate. But, barring
+      unusual circumstances, it will take place precisely at the hour
+      designated. You need no permit. Your messages are official papers. But to
+      save time, perhaps delay, I suggest you take this Mexican, Senor Montes,
+      with you. He outranks Don Carlos and knows the captain of the Mezquital
+      detachment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Then Don Carlos is not in command of the forces holding Stewart?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thank you, sir. I shall not forget your kindness,&rdquo; concluded Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She bowed to Senor Montes, and requested him to enter the car. Nels stowed
+      some of the paraphernalia away, making room in the rear seat. Link bent
+      over the wheel. The start was so sudden, with such crack and roar, that
+      the crowd split in wild disorder. Out of the plaza the car ran, gathering
+      headway; down a street lined by white and blue walls; across a square
+      where rebels were building barricades; along a railroad track full of iron
+      flat-cars that carried mounted pieces of artillery; through the outlying
+      guards, who waved to the officer, Montes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline bound her glasses tightly over her eyes, and wound veils round
+      the lower part of her face. She was all in a strange glow, she had begun
+      to burn, to throb, to thrill, to expand, and she meant to see all that was
+      possible. The sullen sun, red as fire, hung over the mountain range in the
+      west. How low it had sunk! Before her stretched a narrow, white road,
+      dusty, hard as stone&mdash;a highway that had been used for centuries. If
+      it had been wide enough to permit passing a vehicle it would have been a
+      magnificent course for automobiles. But the weeds and the dusty flowers
+      and the mesquite boughs and arms of cactus brushed the car as it sped by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Faster, faster, faster! That old resistless weight began to press Madeline
+      back; the old incessant bellow of wind filled her ears. Link Stevens
+      hunched low over the wheel. His eyes were hidden under leather helmet and
+      goggles, but the lower part of his face was unprotected. He resembled a
+      demon, so dark and stone-hard and strangely grinning was he. All at once
+      Madeline realized how matchless, how wonderful a driver was this cowboy.
+      She divined that weakening could not have been possible to Link Stevens.
+      He was a cowboy, and he really was riding that car, making it answer to
+      his will, as it had been born in him to master a horse. He had never
+      driven to suit himself, had never reached an all-satisfying speed until
+      now. Beyond that his motive was to save Stewart&mdash;to make Madeline
+      happy. Life was nothing to him. That fact gave him the superhuman nerve to
+      face the peril of this ride. Because of his disregard of self he was able
+      to operate the machine, to choose the power, the speed, the guidance, the
+      going with the best judgment and highest efficiency possible. Madeline
+      knew he would get her to Mezquital in time to save Stewart or he would
+      kill her in the attempt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The white, narrow road flashed out of the foreground, slipped with
+      inconceivable rapidity under the car. When she marked a clump of cactus
+      far ahead it seemed to shoot at her, to speed behind her even the instant
+      she noticed it. Nevertheless, Madeline knew Link was not putting the car
+      to its limit. Swiftly as he was flying, he held something in reserve. But
+      he took the turns of the road as if he knew the way was cleared before
+      him. He trusted to a cowboy's luck. A wagon in one of those curves, a herd
+      of cattle, even a frightened steer, meant a wreck. Madeline never closed
+      her eyes at these fateful moments. If Link could stake himself, the
+      others, and her upon such chance, what could not she stake with her
+      motive? So while the great car hummed and thrummed, and darted round the
+      curves on two wheels, and sped on like a bullet, Madeline lived that ride,
+      meant to feel it to the uttermost.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was not all swift going. A stretch of softer ground delayed Link,
+      made the car labor and pant and pound and grind through gravel. Moreover,
+      the cactus plants assumed an alarming ability to impede progress. Long,
+      slender arms of the ocotillo encroached upon the road; broad, round leaves
+      did likewise; fluted columns, fallen like timbers in a forest, lay along
+      the narrow margins; the bayonet cactus and the bisnagi leaned
+      threateningly; clusters of maguey, shadowed by the huge, looming saguaro,
+      infringed upon the highway to Mezquital. And every leaf and blade and
+      branch of cactus bore wicked thorns, any one of which would be fatal to a
+      tire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It came at length, the bursting report. The car lurched, went on like a
+      crippled thing, and halted, obedient to the master hand at the wheel.
+      Swift as Link was in replacing the tire, he lost time. The red sun, more
+      sullen, duskier as it neared the black, bold horizon, appeared to mock
+      Madeline, to eye her in derision.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Link leaped in, and the car sprang ahead. The road-bed changed, the trees
+      changed&mdash;all the surroundings changed except the cactus. There were
+      miles of rolling ridges, rough in the hollows, and short rocky bits of
+      road, and washes to cross, and a low, sandy swale where mesquites grouped
+      a forest along a trickling inch-deep sheet of water. Green things softened
+      the hard, dry aspect of the desert. There were birds and parrots and deer
+      and wild boars. All these Madeline remarked with clear eyes, with
+      remarkable susceptibility of attention; but what she strained to see, what
+      she yearned for, prayed for, was straight, unobstructed road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the road began to wind up; it turned and twisted in tantalizing lazy
+      curves; it was in no hurry to surmount a hill that began to assume
+      proportions of a mountain; it was leisurely, as were all things in Mexico
+      except strife. That was quick, fierce, bloody&mdash;it was Spanish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The descent from that elevation was difficult, extremely hazardous, yet
+      Link Stevens drove fast. At the base of the hill rocks and sand all but
+      halted him for good. Then in taking an abrupt curve a grasping spear
+      ruined another tire. This time the car rasped across the road into the
+      cactus, bursting the second front-wheel tire. Like demons indeed Link and
+      Nels worked. Shuddering, Madeline felt the declining heat of the sun, saw
+      with gloomy eyes the shading of the red light over the desert. She did not
+      look back to see how near the sun was to the horizon. She wanted to ask
+      Nels. Strange as anything on this terrible ride was the absence of speech.
+      As yet no word had been spoken. Madeline wanted to shriek to Link to
+      hurry. But he was more than humanly swift in all his actions. So with mute
+      lips, with the fire in her beginning to chill, with a lifelessness
+      menacing her spirit, she watched, hoped against hope, prayed for a long,
+      straight, smooth road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Quite suddenly she saw it, seemingly miles of clear, narrow lane
+      disappearing like a thin, white streak in distant green. Perhaps Link
+      Stevens's heart leaped like Madeline's. The huge car with a roar and a
+      jerk seemed to answer Madeline's call, a cry no less poignant because it
+      was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Faster, faster, faster! The roar became a whining hum. Then for Madeline
+      sound ceased to be anything&mdash;she could not hear. The wind was now
+      heavy, imponderable, no longer a swift, plastic thing, but solid, like an
+      on-rushing wall. It bore down upon Madeline with such resistless weight
+      that she could not move. The green of desert plants along the road merged
+      in two shapeless fences, sliding at her from the distance. Objects ahead
+      began to blur the white road, to grow streaky, like rays of light, the sky
+      to take on more of a reddening haze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline, realizing her sight was failing her, turned for one more look at
+      Link Stevens. It had come to be his ride almost as much as it was hers. He
+      hunched lower than ever, rigid, strained to the last degree, a terrible,
+      implacable driver. This was his hour, and he was great. If he so much as
+      brushed a flying tire against one of the millions of spikes clutching out,
+      striking out from the cactus, there would be a shock, a splitting wave of
+      air&mdash;an end. Madeline thought she saw that Link's bulging cheek and
+      jaw were gray, that his tight-shut lips were white, that the smile was
+      gone. Then he really was human&mdash;not a demon. She felt a strange sense
+      of brotherhood. He understood a woman's soul as Monty Price had understood
+      it. Link was the lightning-forged automaton, the driving, relentless,
+      unconquerable instrument of a woman's will. He was a man whose force was
+      directed by a woman's passion. He reached up to her height, felt her love,
+      understood the nature of her agony. These made him heroic. But it was the
+      hard life, the wild years of danger on the desert, the companionship of
+      ruthless men, the elemental, that made possible his physical achievement.
+      Madeline loved his spirit then and gloried in the man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had pictured upon her heart, never to be forgotten, this little
+      hunched, deformed figure of Link's hanging with dauntless, with deathless
+      grip over the wheel, his gray face like a marble mask.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was Madeline's last clear sensation upon the ride. Blinded, dazed,
+      she succumbed to the demands upon her strength. She reeled, fell back,
+      only vaguely aware of a helping hand. Confusion seized her senses. All
+      about her was a dark chaos through which she was rushing, rushing, rushing
+      under the wrathful red eye of a setting sun. Then, as there was no more
+      sound or sight for her, she felt there was no color. But the rush never
+      slackened&mdash;a rush through opaque, limitless space. For moments,
+      hours, ages she was propelled with the velocity of a shooting-star. The
+      earth seemed a huge automobile. And it sped with her down an endless white
+      track through the universe. Looming, ghostly, ghastly, spectral forms of
+      cacti plants, large as pine-trees, stabbed her with giant spikes. She
+      became an unstable being in a shapeless, colorless, soundless cosmos of
+      unrelated things, but always rushing, even to meet the darkness that
+      haunted her and never reached her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But at an end of infinite time that rush ceased. Madeline lost the queer
+      feeling of being disembodied by a frightfully swift careening through
+      boundless distance. She distinguished voices, low at first, apparently far
+      away. Then she opened her eyes to blurred but conscious sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The car had come to a stop. Link was lying face down over the wheel. Nels
+      was rubbing her hands, calling to her. She saw a house with clean
+      whitewashed wall and brown-tiled roof. Beyond, over a dark mountain range,
+      peeped the last red curve, the last beautiful ray of the setting sun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXV. At the End of the Road
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Madeline saw that the car was surrounded by armed Mexicans. They presented
+      a contrast to the others she had seen that day; she wondered a little at
+      their silence, at their respectful front.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly a sharp spoken order opened up the ranks next to the house. Senor
+      Montes appeared in the break, coming swiftly. His dark face wore a smile;
+      his manner was courteous, important, authoritative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senora, it is not too late!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke her language with an accent strange to her, so that it seemed to
+      hinder understanding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senora, you got here in time,&rdquo; he went on. &ldquo;El Capitan Stewart will be
+      free.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Free!&rdquo; she whispered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She rose, reeling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; replied Montes, taking her arm. &ldquo;Perdoneme, Senora.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Without his assistance she would have fallen wholly upon Nels, who
+      supported her on the other side. They helped her alight from the car. For
+      a moment the white walls, the hazy red sky, the dark figures of the
+      rebels, whirled before Madeline's eyes. She took a few steps, swaying
+      between her escorts; then the confusion of her sight and mind passed away.
+      It was as if she quickened with a thousand vivifying currents, as if she
+      could see and hear and feel everything in the world, as if nothing could
+      be overlooked, forgotten, neglected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned back, remembering Link. He was lurching from the car, helmet
+      and goggles thrust back, the gray shade gone from his face, the cool,
+      bright gleam of his eyes disappearing for something warmer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Senor Montes led Madeline and her cowboys through a hall to a patio, and
+      on through a large room with flooring of rough, bare boards that rattled,
+      into a smaller room full of armed quiet rebels facing an open window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline scanned the faces of these men, expecting to see Don Carlos. But
+      he was not present. A soldier addressed her in Spanish too swiftly
+      uttered, too voluble for her to translate. But, like Senor Montes, he was
+      gracious and, despite his ragged garb and uncouth appearance, he bore the
+      unmistakable stamp of authority.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montes directed Madeline's attention to a man by the window. A loose scarf
+      of vivid red hung from his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senora, they were waiting for the sun to set when we arrived,&rdquo; said
+      Montes. &ldquo;The signal was about to be given for Senor Stewart's walk to
+      death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stewart's walk!&rdquo; echoed Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Senora, let me tell you his sentence&mdash;the sentence I have had
+      the honor and happiness to revoke for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart had been court-martialed and sentenced according to a Mexican
+      custom observed in cases of brave soldiers to whom honorable and fitting
+      executions were due. His hour had been set for Thursday when the sun had
+      sunk. Upon signal he was to be liberated and was free to walk out into the
+      road, to take any direction he pleased. He knew his sentence; knew that
+      death awaited him, that every possible avenue of escape was blocked by men
+      with rifles ready. But he had not the slightest idea at what moment or
+      from what direction the bullets were to come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senora, we have sent messengers to every squad of waiting soldiers&mdash;an
+      order that El Capitan is not to be shot. He is ignorant of his release. I
+      shall give the signal for his freedom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montes was ceremonious, gallant, emotional. Madeline saw his pride, and
+      divined that the situation was one which brought out the vanity, the
+      ostentation, as well as the cruelty of his race. He would keep her in an
+      agony of suspense, let Stewart start upon that terrible walk in ignorance
+      of his freedom. It was the motive of a Spaniard. Suddenly Madeline had a
+      horrible quaking fear that Montes lied, that he meant her to be a witness
+      of Stewart's execution. But no, the man was honest; he was only barbarous.
+      He would satisfy certain instincts of his nature&mdash;sentiment, romance,
+      cruelty&mdash;by starting Stewart upon that walk, by watching Stewart's
+      actions in the face of seeming death, by seeing Madeline's agony of doubt,
+      fear, pity, love. Almost Madeline felt that she could not endure the
+      situation. She was weak and tottering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senora! Ah, it will be one beautiful thing!&rdquo; Montes caught the scarf from
+      the rebel's hand. He was glowing, passionate; his eyes had a strange,
+      soft, cold flash; his voice was low, intense. He was living something
+      splendid to him. &ldquo;I'll wave the scarf, Senora. That will be the signal. It
+      will be seen down at the other end of the road. Senor Stewart's jailer
+      will see the signal, take off Stewart's irons, release him, open the door
+      for his walk. Stewart will be free. But he will not know. He will expect
+      death. As he is a brave man, he will face it. He will walk this way. Every
+      step of that walk he will expect to be shot from some unknown quarter. But
+      he will not be afraid. Senora, I have seen El Captain fighting in the
+      field. What is death to him? Ah, will it not be magnificent to see him
+      come forth&mdash;to walk down? Senora, you will see what a man he is. All
+      the way he will expect cold, swift death. Here at this end of the road he
+      will meet his beautiful lady!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there no&mdash;no possibility of a mistake?&rdquo; faltered Madeline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None. My order included unloading of rifles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don Carlos?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is in irons, and must answer to General Salazar,&rdquo; replied Montes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline looked down the deserted road. How strange to see the last ruddy
+      glow of the sun over the brow of the mountain range! The thought of that
+      sunset had been torture for her. Yet it had passed, and now the
+      afterlights were luminous, beautiful, prophetic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a heart stricken by both joy and agony, she saw Montes wave the
+      scarf.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she waited. No change manifested itself down the length of that
+      lonely road. There was absolute silence in the room behind her. How
+      terribly, infinitely long seemed the waiting! Never in all her future life
+      would she forget the quaint pink, blue, and white walled houses with their
+      colored roofs. That dusty bare road resembled one of the uncovered streets
+      of Pompeii with its look of centuries of solitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly a door opened and a tall man stepped out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline recognized Stewart. She had to place both hands on the
+      window-sill for support, while a storm of emotion swayed her. Like a
+      retreating wave it rushed away. Stewart lived. He was free. He had stepped
+      out into the light. She had saved him. Life changed for her in that
+      instant of realization and became sweet, full, strange.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart shook hands with some one in the doorway. Then he looked up and
+      down the road. The door closed behind him. Leisurely he rolled a
+      cigarette, stood close to the wall while he scratched a match. Even at
+      that distance Madeline's keen eyes caught the small flame, the first
+      little puff of smoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stewart then took to the middle of the road and leisurely began his walk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To Madeline he appeared natural, walked as unconcernedly as if he were
+      strolling for pleasure; but the absence of any other living thing, the
+      silence, the red haze, the surcharged atmosphere&mdash;these were all
+      unnatural. From time to time Stewart stopped to turn face forward toward
+      houses and corners. Only silence greeted these significant moves of his.
+      Once he halted to roll and light another cigarette. After that his step
+      quickened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline watched him, with pride, love, pain, glory combating for a
+      mastery over her. This walk of his seemingly took longer than all her
+      hours of awakening, of strife, of remorse, longer than the ride to find
+      him. She felt that it would be impossible for her to wait till he reached
+      the end of the road. Yet in the hurry and riot of her feelings she had
+      fleeting panics. What could she say to him? How meet him? Well she
+      remembered the tall, powerful form now growing close enough to distinguish
+      its dress. Stewart's face was yet only a dark gleam. Soon she would see it&mdash;long
+      before he could know she was there. She wanted to run to meet him.
+      Nevertheless, she stood rooted to her covert behind the window, living
+      that terrible walk with him to the uttermost thought of home, sister,
+      mother, sweetheart, wife, life itself&mdash;every thought that could come
+      to a man stalking to meet his executioners. With all that tumult in her
+      mind and heart Madeline still fell prey to the incomprehensible variations
+      of emotion possible to a woman. Every step Stewart took thrilled her. She
+      had some strange, subtle intuition that he was not unhappy, and that he
+      believed beyond shadow of doubt that he was walking to his death. His
+      steps dragged a little, though they had begun to be swift. The old, hard,
+      physical, wild nerve of the cowboy was perhaps in conflict with spiritual
+      growth of the finer man, realizing too late that life ought not to be
+      sacrificed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the dark gleam that was his face took shape, grew sharper and
+      clearer. He was stalking now, and there was a suggestion of impatience in
+      his stride. It took these hidden Mexicans a long time to kill him! At a
+      point in the middle of the road, even with the corner of a house and
+      opposite to Madeline's position, Stewart halted stock-still. He presented
+      a fair, bold mark to his executioners, and he stood there motionless a
+      full moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Only silence greeted him. Plain it was to Madeline, and she thought to all
+      who had eyes to see, that to Stewart, since for some reason he had been
+      spared all along his walk, this was the moment when he ought to be
+      mercifully shot. But as no shots came a rugged dignity left him for a
+      reckless scorn manifest in the way he strolled, across to the corner of
+      the house, rolled yet another cigarette, and, presenting a broad breast to
+      the window, smoked and waited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That wait was almost unendurable for Madeline. Perhaps it was only a
+      moment, several moments at the longest, but the time seemed a year.
+      Stewart's face was scornful, hard. Did he suspect treachery on the part of
+      his captors, that they meant to play with him as a cat with a mouse, to
+      murder him at leisure? Madeline was sure she caught the old, inscrutable,
+      mocking smile fleeting across his lips. He held that position for what
+      must have been a reasonable time to his mind, then with a laugh and a
+      shrug he threw the cigarette into the road. He shook his head as if at the
+      incomprehensible motives of men who could have no fair reasons now for
+      delay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a sudden violent action that was more than a straightening of his
+      powerful frame. It was the old instinctive violence. Then he faced north.
+      Madeline read his thought, knew he was thinking of her, calling her a last
+      silent farewell. He would serve her to his last breath, leave her free,
+      keep his secret. That picture of him, dark-browed, fire-eyed, strangely
+      sad and strong, sank indelibly into Madeline's heart of hearts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next instant he was striding forward, to force by bold and scornful
+      presence a speedy fulfilment of his sentence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeline stepped into the door, crossed the threshold. Stewart staggered
+      as if indeed the bullets he expected had pierced him in mortal wound. His
+      dark face turned white. His eyes had the rapt stare, the wild fear of a
+      man who saw an apparition, yet who doubted his sight. Perhaps he had
+      called to her as the Mexicans called to their Virgin; perhaps he imagined
+      sudden death had come unawares, and this was her image appearing to him in
+      some other life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who&mdash;are&mdash;you?&rdquo; he whispered, hoarsely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She tried to lift her hands, failed, tried again, and held them out,
+      trembling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is I. Majesty. Your wife!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
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+</pre>
+  </body>
+</html>
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