"I can make little of what is going on," said Madeline. "I want
to go closer."

They trotted across half the intervening distance, and when
Florence halted again Madeline was still not satisfied and asked
to be taken nearer. This time, before they reined in again, Al
Hammond saw them and wheeled his horse in their direction. He
yelled something which Madeline did not understand, and then
halted them.

"Close enough," he called; and in the din his voice was not very
clear. "It's not safe. Wild steers! I'm glad you came, girls.
Majesty, what do you think of that bunch of cattle?"

Madeline could scarcely reply what she thought, for the noise and
dust and ceaseless action confused her.

"They're milling, Al," said Florence.

"We just rounded them up. They're milling, and that's bad. The
vaqueros are hard drivers. They beat us all hollow, and we drove
some, too." He was wet with sweat, black with dust, and out of
breath. "I'm off now. Flo, my sister will have enough of this
in about two minutes. Take her back to the wagon. I'll tell
Bill you're here, and run in whenever I get a minute."

The bawling and bellowing, the crackling of horns and pounding of
hoofs, the dusty whirl of cattle, and the flying cowboys
disconcerted Madeline and frightened her a little; but she was
intensely interested and meant to stay there until she saw for