And then it seemed that Madeline was confronted by a spectacle
too sublime and terrible for her gaze. The immensity of this
red-ridged, deep-gulfed world descending incalculable distances
refused to be grasped, and awed her, shocked her.

"Once, Majesty, when I first came out West, I was down and out--
determined to end it all," said Alfred. "And happened to climb
up here looking for a lonely place to die. When I saw that I
changed my mind."

Madeline was silent. She remained so during the ride around the
rim of the mesa and down the steep trail. This time Alfred and
Florence failed to tempt her into a race. She had been
awe-struck; she had been exalted she had been confounded; and she
recovered slowly without divining exactly what had come to her.

She reached the ranch-house far behind her companions, and at
supper-time was unusually thoughtful. Later, when they assembled
on the porch to watch the sunset, Stillwell's humorous
complainings inspired the inception of an idea which flashed up
in her mind swift as lightning. And then by listening
sympathetically she encouraged him to recite the troubles of a
poor cattleman. They were many and long and interesting, and
rather numbing to the life of her inspired idea.

"Mr. Stillwell, could ranching here on a large scale, with
up-to-date methods, be made--well, not profitable, exactly, but
to pay--to run without loss?" she asked, determined to kill her
new-born idea at birth or else give it breath and hope of life.