sitting still so long. I'll get lunch ready."

Madeline got down, glad to stretch her limbs, and began to stroll
about. She heard Stillwell throw the harness on the ground and
slap his horses. "Roll, you sons-of-guns!" he said. Both horses
bent their fore legs, heaved down on their sides, and tried to
roll over. One horse succeeded on the fourth try, and then
heaved up with a satisfied snort and shook off the dust and
gravel. The other one failed to roll over, and gave it up, half
rose to his feet, and then lay down on the other side.

"He's sure going to feel the ground," said Florence, smiling at
Madeline. "Miss Hammond, I suppose that prize horse of yours--
White Stockings--would spoil his coat if he were heah to roll in
this greasewood and cactus."

During lunch-time Madeline observed that she was an object of
manifestly great interest to the three cowboys. She returned the
compliment, and was amused to see that a glance their way caused
them painful embarrassment. They were grown men--one of whom had
white hair--yet they acted like boys caught in the act of
stealing a forbidden look at a pretty girl.

"Cowboys are sure all flirts," said Florence, as if stating an
uninteresting fact. But Madeline detected a merry twinkle in her
clear eyes. The cowboys heard, and the effect upon them was
magical. They fell to shamed confusion and to hurried useless
tasks. Madeline found it difficult to see where they had been
bold, though evidently they were stricken with conscious guilt.
She recalled appraising looks of critical English eyes, impudent