is a ladies' man, he thinks."

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.

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!

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