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diff --git a/1095-h/1095-h.htm b/1095-h/1095-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e5c197e --- /dev/null +++ b/1095-h/1095-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15862 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title>The Light of Western Stars | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> +<style> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + 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;} + +.big {font-size: x-large;} +.ph1 {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } +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> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/1095-h/images/cover.jpg b/1095-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b33d838 --- /dev/null +++ b/1095-h/images/cover.jpg |
