rider, had been always in her vicinity.

"Don Carlos has been after Florence for a long time," said
Alfred. "He's not a young man by any means. He's fifty, Bill
says; but you can seldom tell a Mexican's age from his looks.
Don Carlos is well educated and a man we know very little about.
Mexicans of his stamp don't regard women as we white men do.
Now, my dear, beautiful sister from New York, I haven't much use
for Don Carlos; but I don't want Nels or Ambrose to make a wild
throw with a rope and pull the Don off his horse. So you had
better ride up to the house and stay there."

"Alfred, you are joking, teasing me," said Madeline. "Indeed
not," replied Alfred. "How about it, Flo?" Florence replied
that the cowboys would upon the slightest provocation treat Don
Carlos with less ceremony and gentleness than a roped steer. Old
Bill Stillwell came up to be importuned by Alfred regarding the
conduct of cowboys on occasion, and he not only corroborated the
assertion, but added emphasis and evidence of his own.

"An', Miss Majesty," he concluded, "I reckon if Gene Stewart was
ridin' fer me, thet grinnin' Greaser would hev hed a bump in the
dust before now."

Madeline had been wavering between sobriety and laughter until
Stillwell's mention of his ideal of cowboy chivalry decided in
favor of the laughter.

"I am not convinced, but I surrender," she said. "You have only
some occult motive for driving me away. I am sure that handsome