au, SYNOPSIS CHAPTER l.—Arriving at the lonely tle railroad station of El Cajon, New exico, Madeline Hammond, New York 1, finds no one to meet her. While in e waiting rocm a drunken cowboy en- , asks if she is married, and departs, ving her terrified, He returns with a est, who goes through some sort of remony, and the cowboy forces her to say ‘‘SiL.” Asking her name and learning her identity the cowboy seems dazed. In shooting scrape outside the room a exican Is killed. 1, “Bonita,” take his horse and escape, en conducts Madeline to Florence sley, friend of her brother. CHAPTER I1.—Florence welcomes her, learns her story, and dismisses the cow- boy, Gene Stewart. Next day Alfred Hammond, Madeline's brother, takes Stewart to task. Madeline exonerates him of any wrong intent. CHAPTER IIl.—Alfred, scion of a Fealthy family, had been dismissed from 8 home because of his dissipation. Madeline sees that the West has re- deemed him. She meets Stillwell, Al's employer, typical -<western ranchman. Madeline learns Stewart has gone over the border. CHAPTER IV.—Danny Mains, one of Btillwell’'s cowboys, has disappeared, with some of Stillwell’s money. His friends link his name with the girl Bo- CHAPTER V.—Madeline gets a glimpse of life on a western ranch, CHAPTER VI.—Stewart’s horse comes to the ranch with a note on the saddle asking Madeline to accept the beautiful animal. With her brother’s consent she does so, naming him ‘‘Majesty,” her own pet nickname. Madeline, independently rich, arranges to buy Stillwell’'s ranch gaa that of Don Carlos, a Mexican neigh- Tr. CHAPTER VII.—Madeline feels she has found her right place, under the light of the western stars. CHAPTER VII1.—Learning Stewart had been hurt in a brawl at Chiricahua, and knowing her brother's fondness for him, Madeline visits him and persuades him to come to the ranch as the boss of her cowboys. CHAPTER IX.-Jim Nels, Nick Steele, and “Monty” Price are Madeline’s chief riders. They have a feud with Don Car- los’ vaqueros, who are really guerrillas. Madeline pledges Stewart to see that peace is kept CHAPTER X.—Madeline and Florence, returning home from Alfred’s ranch, run into an ambush of vaqueros. Florence, knowing the Mexicans are after Made- line, decoys them away, and Madeline gets home safely but alone, CHAPTER XI.—A raiding guerrilla band carries off Madeline. Stewart fol- lows alone, The leader is a man with whom Stewart had served in Mexico. He releases the girl, arranging for ransom. Returning home with Stewart, Madeline finds herself strangely stirred. Then, mounting, he slipped behind her and lifted and turned her, and then held her with his left arm so that she lay across the saddle and his knees, her head against his shoulder. As the horse started into a rapid walk Madeline gradually lost all pain and discomfort when she relaxed her muscles. Presently she let herself go For a Little While She Seemed to Be Half Drunk With the Gentle Sway. ¢ ingofa Hammock Jo Ne 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 thought: fully recorded the slow, soft impres- gions pouring in from all her senses. 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? She remem- bered the ghoulish visages of those starved rebels, and marveled at her blessed fortune in escaping them. 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 impor- tuned 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. A heavy languor, like a blanket, be- gan to steal upon her. She wavered and drifted. With the last half-con- The cowboy lets a | LIGHT: OF "WESTERN ANY YAN , v7 A Romance <= scious 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. CHAPTER XII Friends From the East. Three days after her return to the ranch Madeline could not discover any physical discomfort as a reminder of her adventurous experiences. If it had nat been fer the quiet and persistent guardianship of her cowboys she might almost have forgotten Don Carios ead the raiders. Madeline was assured of the splendid physical fitness to which this ranch life had developed her, anc 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 out lJaws—these might once have been matters of large impori, but now for Madeline they were in order with all the rest of her changed life. There was never & day thal some thing interesting was not brought to her notice. Sillwell, who had cease- lessly reproached himself for riding away the morning Madeline was cap- tured, grew more like 2m anxious par- ent than a faithful superintendent. He was never at ease regarding her unless he was near the ranch or had left Stewart there, or else Nels and Nick Steele. Naturally. he trusted more to Stewart than to any one else. “Miss Majesty, it’s sure amazin’ strange about Gene,” said the old cat- tleman, as he tramped into Madeline's office. “What's the matter now?’ she in- quired. . “Wal, Gene has rustled off into the mountains again. He's sneaked oft, an’ Nels, who was down to the lower trail, saw him meet somebody that looked like Padre Marcos. Wal, I went down to the church, and, sure enough, Padre Marcos is gone. What do you think of that, Miss Majesty?” “Maybe Stewart is getting religious,” langhed Madeline. “Let him 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 sis- ter, with a party of friends, is coming out to visit me. They are society folk, and one of them is an English lord. Let me read you a few extracts from my mail.” Madeline took up her sister's letter with a strange sensation of how eas ilv 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 seldom wrote letters, and she never read any- thing, 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 ficht Indians. Moreover, there was a satiric note in the letter that Made- line did not like, and which roused her spirit. When she finished reading aloud a few paragraphs the old cattleman snorted and his face grew redder. “Did your sister write that?’ he asked, “Does she think we're a lot of wild men from Borneo?” “Evidently she does. I rather think she is in for a surprise. Now, Still- well, you are clever and you can see the situation. I want my guests to en- joy their stay here, but I do not want that to be at the expense of the feel- Ings 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 disap- pointed. ' 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. 1 want them to be on their most elegant behavior. I do not care what they do, what measures they take to protect themselves, what tricks they contrive, so long as they do not overstep the limit of kindness and courtesy. I want them to play their parts seriously, naturally, as if they had lived no other way. My guests expect to have fun. Let us meet them with fun. Now what do you say?” Stillwell rose, his great bulk tower- ing, his huge face beaming. “Wal, 1 say it’s the most amazin’ fine idee I ever heerd in my life.” “Indeed, I am glad you like it,” went on Madeline. “Come to me again, Stillwell, after you have spoken to the boys. But, now that I have sug- gested it, I am a little afraid. You know what cowboy fun is. Perhaps—" “Don’t you go back on that idee,” interrupted Stillwell. He was assur- ing and bland, but his hurry to con- vince Madeline betrayed him. “Leave the boys to me. Why, don’t they all swear by you, same as the Mexicans do to the Virgin? They won't disgrace you, Miss Majesty. They'll be simply immense, It'll beat any show you ever seen.” “I believe it will,” replied Madeline. “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.” * * * » \d *® * On the afternoon of the ninth of May, perhaps half an hour after Made- line had received a telephone message from Link Stevens announcing the ar- rival of her guests at El Cajon, Flor- ence called her out upon the porch, Stillwell was there with his face wrin- kled 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 sky- ward. “Look!” said Florence, excitedly. “What is that?” asked Madeline, “Link Stevens and the automobile!” “Oh no! Why, it’s only a few min- utes since he telephoned saying the party had just arrived.” “Take a look with the glasses,” said Florence. One glance through the powerful binoculars convinced Madeline that Florence was right. And another glance at Stillwell told her that he was speechless with delight. “Wal, as Nels says, I wouldn't be in that there ot- tomobile right now for a million pesos,” he remarked. “Why? Is Steveus driving fast?” “Good Lord! Fast? Miss Majesty, there hain’t ever been anythin’ except a streak of lightnin’ run so fast in this country. I reckon I'd like to be hyar when Link drives up, but I want to be with the boys down by the bunks. It'll be some fun to see Nels an’ Monty when Link comes flyin’ along.” “I wish Al had stayed to meet them,” said Madeline. Her brother had rather hurried = shipment of cattle to California: and fc was Madeline's supposition that he liad welcomed the opportunity to ab- sent himself from the ranch. “] am sorry he wouldn't stay,” re plied Florence. “But Al's all business now. And he's doing finely. It's just as well, perhaps.” “Surely. That was my pride speak- ing. I would like to have all my fam- ily and all my old friends see what a man Al has become. Well, Link Stev- ens is running like the wind. The car will be here before we know it. Flor- ence, we've only a few moments to dress. But first I want to order many and various and exceedingly cold re- freshments for that approaching party.” Less than a half-hour later Madeline went again to the porch and found Florence there. “Oh, you look just lovely!” ex: claimed Florence, impulsively, as she gazed wide-eyed up at Madeline. “And somehow so different!” Madeline smiled a little sadly. Per- haps when she had put on that ex- quisite white gown something had come to her of the manner which bew fitted 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 heen pleased to call her beauty had trebled since it had last been seen in a draw- ing-room. Madeline wore no jewels, but at her waist she had pinned two great crimson roses. Against the dead white they had the life and fire and redness of the desert. “Link’s hit the old round-up trail.” said Florence, “and oh, isn’t he riding that car!” With Florence, as with most. of the cowboys, the car was never driven. but ridden. A white spot with a long trail of dust showed low down in the valley. It was now headed almost straight for the ranch. Madeline watched it grow- ing larger moment by moment, and her pleasurable emotion grew accord- | ingly. Then the rapid beat of a horse’s hoofs caused her to turn. Stewart was riding in on his black horse. He had been absent on an im- portant mission, and his duty had taken him to the international bound- ary line. His presence home long be- fore 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. Madeline advanced to the porch steps. And Stewart, after taking a parcel of papers from a saddle-bag, turned toward her. “Stewart, you are the best of couriers,” she said. “I am pleased.” Dust streamed from his sombrero as he doffed it. His dark face seemed to rise as he straightened weary shoul- ders. “Here are the reports, Miss Ham- mond,” he replied. As he looked up to see her standing there, dressed to receive her eastern guests, he checked his advance with a violent action which recalled to Madeline the one he had made on the night she had met him, when she dis- closed her identity. A man struck by a bullet might have had an instant jerk of muscular control such as convulsed Stewart. In that instént, 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, con- scious of her sudden color, a genuine blush flamed on her face. It was frri- tating because it was incomprehensi- ble. She recelved the papers from Stewart and thanked him. He bowed, then lea the black down the path to- ward the corrals, ’ Madeline watched the weary horse and rider limp down the path. What had made her thoughtful? Mostly it was something new or sudden or inexplic- able that stirred her mind to quick analysis. In this instance the thing that had struck Madeline was Stew- art’s glance. He had looked at her, and the old burning, inscrutable fire, the darkness, had left his eyes. Sud- denly 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 Stew- And Now, Conscious of Her Sudden Color, a Genuine Blush Flamed on Her Face. art's eves had expressed a stranve | or pride. ‘That expression Madelin.: had never before encountered in thw look of any man. Probably its strange- ness had made her notice it and ac: counted for her blushing. The longer she lived among these outdoor en the more they surprised her. Partien- larly, how incomprehensible was this cowboy Stewart! Why should he have pride or joy at sight of her? The approaching automobile was ou the slope now, some miles down the long gradual slant. Its velocity was astounding. Long, gray veils, like pen- nants, 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 ul- sters, and crashed and cracked to a halt in the yard before the porch, Madeline descried a gray, disheveled mass of humanity packed inside the car. Besides the driver there were seven occupants, and for a moment they appeared to be coming to life, moving and exclaiming under the veils and wraps and dust-shields. : Link Stevens stepped out and, re- moving helmet and goggles, coolly looked at his watch. “An hour an’ a quarter, Miss Ham- mond,” he said. “It’s sixty-three miles by the valley road, an’ you Know there's a couple of bad hills. I reckon we made fair time, considerin’ you wanted me to drive slow an’ safe.” From the mass of dusty-veiled hu- ! manity in the car came low exclaiir tions and plaintive feminine wails. Madeline stepped to the front of the porch. Then the deep voices of men and softer voices of women united in ' one glad outburst, as much a thanks- giving as a greeting, “Majesty!” * . * * * * av * Helen Hammond was three years younger than Madeline, and a slender, pretty girl. Having recovered her , breath soon after Madeline took her to her room, she began to talk, “Majesty, old girl, I'm here; but you can bet I would never have gotten here if IT 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! What kind of a chauffeur] ‘is he?” ! “He’s a cowboy. He was crippled by falling under his horse, so I had him instructed to run the car. He can’ drive, don’t you think?” “Drive? Good gracious! He scared | us to death, except Castleton. Nothing could scare that cold-blooded little | Englishman. I am dizzy yet. Do you | know, Majesty, I was delighted when | I saw the car. Then your cowboy ' driver met us at the platform. What | a queer-looking individual! He had a big pistol strapped to those leather! i 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. 1 couldn't hear any-: thing but the rush of wind and roar of | the car. I could see only straight] ahead. What a road! I never saw u road in my life till today. Miles and. miles and miles ahead, with not even a post or tree. That big car seemed] to leap at the miles. It hummed and: sang. I was fascinated, then terrified. ! We went so fast I couldn’t catch my | breath. The wind went through me, and I expected to be disrobed by it’ any minute. I was afraid I couldn't hold any clothes on. Presently all I could see was a flashing gray wall with a white line in the middle. Then my eyes blurred. My face burned. My ears grew full of a hundred thousand howling devils. I was about ready to die when the car stopped. I looked and looked, and when I could see, there you stood!” “Helen, I thought you were fond of speeding,” said Madeline, with a laugh. “] was. But I assure you I never before was in a fast car; I never met a driver.” “Perhaps 1 may have a few sur- prises for you out here in the wild and woolly West.” Helen's dark eyes showed a sister's memory of possibilities. “You've started weil,” 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? of this Majesty, dark house! sweetness I know you, you have made a home out here. "That's the most stunning surprise of | all. Come, confess. I know I've al ways been selfish and not much of a sister; but if you are happy out here 1 am glad. You were not happy ar home. Tell me about yourself ana about Alfred. Then I shall give you all the messages and news from the Bast.” It afforded Madeline exceeding pleas- ure to have from one and all of her guests varied encomiums of her beau- tiful home, and a real and warm inter- est in what promised to be a delight- ful and memorable visit. Of them all Castleton was the only one who failed to show surprise. He greeted her precisely as he had when he had last seen her in London. Made- line, 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. Edith Wayne was a patrician bru- nette, a serious, soft-voiced woman, sweet and kindly, despite a rather bif- ter experience that had left her world- ly 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 pret- tiness. For a man Castleton was of very small stature. He had a pink-and- white complexion, a small golden mus- tache, and his heavy eyelids, always drooping, made him look dull. His at- tire, cut to what appeared to be an ex- aggerated English style, attracted at- tention to his diminutive size. He was immaculate and fastidious. Robert Weede was a rather large florid young | man, remarkable only for his good na- ture. Counting Boyd Harvey, a hand- some, pale-faced fellow, with the care- less smile of the man for whom life had been easy and pleasant, the party was complete, “Majesty, have you planned any fun, any excitement for us?’ asked Helen. “Above all, Majesty, we want some- thing to happen.” “My dear sister, maybe you will have yeur wish fulfilled,” replied Madeline, soberly. “Edith, Helen has made me curious about your especial yearning.” “Majesty, it is only that I wanted to be with you for a while,” replied this old friend. There was in the wistful reply, ac- companied by a dark and eloquent glance of eyes, that told Madeline of Edith’s understanding, of her sympa- thy, 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! CHAPTER XII Cowboy Golf. In ‘the whirl of the succeeding days fn 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. Still- well 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 extraor- dinary goings on of the cowboys. Stew- art alone kept the business of cattle- raising from a serious setback. Early’ and late he was in the saddle, driving the lazy Mexicans whom he had hired to relieve the cowboys. One morning in June Madeline was sitting on the porch with her merry friends when Stillwell appeared on the corral path. He had not come to con- sult Madeline for several days—an omission so unusual as to be remarked. “Here comes Bill—in trouble,” laughed Florence. This beautiful room, | those glorious roses out there, the cool, | wonderful | and, , though you never wrote it, I believe | Indeed, he bore some faint resem- blance to a thundercloud as he ap- proached the porch; but the greetings [ | I'm a Sad De- moralized Old Cattieman,” He Said Presently. “Miss Majesty, Sure he got from Madeline’s party, especial lv from Helen and Dorothy, chased away the blackness from his face and brought the wonderful wrinkling smile. “Miss Majesty, sure I'm a sad de- moralized old cattleman.” he said, | presently. ‘An’ I'm in need of a heap of help.” “Vary wcll; unburden yourself.” “wal the cowbovs have 2one nHlumh batty, jest plain crazy over this heah game of gol-lof.” A merry peal of mirth greeted Stili- well’s solemn assertion. “Qh, Stillwell, you are in fun,” re- plied Madeline. “I hope to die if 'm not in daid earnest,” declared the cattleman. “It’s an amazin’ strange fact. Ask Flo. She’ll tell you. She knows cowboys, an’ how if they ever start on somethin’ they ride it as they ride a hoss.” Florence being appealed to, and evi- dently feeling all eyes upon her, mod- estly replied that Stillwell had scarce- ly misstated the situation. . “Cowboys play like they work or fight,” she added. “They give their whole souls to it. They are great big simple boys.” “Indeed they are,” said Madeline. “Oh, I'm glad if they like the game of golf. They have so little play.” “Wal, somethin’s got to be did if we're to go on raisin’ cattle at Her Majesty's Rancho,” replied Stillwell. He appeared both deliberate and re- signed. : (To be continued). tr—————————(——————— What is a Steel Trap. The gruesome and disgusting fea- tures of the steel trap are a constant and discouraging source of worry for those persons who understand the suf- fering and cruelties which the dumb creatures of the woods and forest must endure. To be suddenly gripped in the rusted steel jaws of a soulless trap must be a nerve-racking and hor- rifying sensation for those small ani- | mals which, after the ruthless hunter i has finally retired with his weapon, venture out at night in search of food. An acquaintance of the writer, who considered himself a great trapper of muskrats, once told of a case in which he caught one of the luckless little creatures whose small legs were mere- ly stumps grown over with fur, the tiny feet having been gnawed off in anguish and pain when the grim teeth of the trap clung so tenaciously to its legs. The little creature had been caught at least three times and in every case had managed to extricate itself after much pain and misery. Such conditions are certainly enough to demand the abolition of the barbar- ous trapping practice. Worst Year for Coccidiosis. From all indications this will be the worst year for coccidiosis in young chicks in the history of the poultry industry, says Professor Monroe, of the poultry extension staff of The Pennsylvania State College. Ordinarily this disease affects the growing chicks during the months of May and June, especially during warm, wet weather. In spite of the cool weather this spring Prof. Monroe says that he has found this dreaded disease in flocks all over the State since the first of April. Crowded and insanitary conditions are the most common causes of this disease. In its prevention, farmers and others are advised to feed milk at all times, not to overfeed with scratch grain, keep the house clean and rear the chicks on clean ground. Do not crowd, overheat or chill the chicks. In the treatment, feed all the milk the birds can drink, giving no water. Feed moist mash twice a day and give no other feed. Strict sanitation should be observed in house and yards. —Get your job work done here. ——There are thousands of acres of fertile soil in northeastern Wyoming, that are not producing a thing but grass, and what the country needs is thousands of men who are willing to wor kand who will deevlop this land and cause it to bring forth sixty and a hundred fold more than it is doing now. Large Goitre Reduced Pennsylvania Lady Tells How. Mrs. Libbie Patterson, Chambersburg, Pa., says she will tell or write how she re- duced a large goitre with Sorbol Quadru- ple, a colorless liniment. Get free information at Parrish’s drug store, all drug stores, or write Box 338, Mechanicsburg, Ohio, 68-23
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