on his
face gave way to a broad smile.

"Is it really all--fun?" quavered Cordelia, breathlessly.

"Every bit," Mr. Hartley assured her. And then--though still
breathlessly--Cordelia gave herself up to the excitement of the moment.

They were all about them soon--those lithe, supple figures, swaying
lightly, or sitting superbly erect in their saddles. From the top of
their broad-brimmed hats to the tips of their high-heeled cowboy boots
they were a wonder and a joy to the amazed eyes of Cordelia. With
stirrups so long the chains clanked musically, they galloped back and
forth, shouting, laughing, and shooting wildly into the air. With their
chaparejos, or leather overalls, their big revolvers, their spurs, their
bright silk handkerchiefs knotted loosely around their necks over the
open collar of their flannel shirts, they made a brave show, indeed. Nor
was the least of the wonders about them the graceful swirls of
loosely-coiled lariats hanging from the horns of their saddles.

After all, it lasted only a minute before the revolvers were thrust into
the waiting holsters, and before the men, bareheaded, were making a
sweeping bow from their saddles.

It was Genevieve who led the clapping.

"Oh, boys, thank you! That was fine--just fine!" she crowed. "Now I
reckon Cordelia thinks she has seen a cowboy all right!"

And Cordelia did. A little white, but bravely smiling, she was sitting
erect, apparently serene. And only Mr. Hartley knew that one of her
hands was clutched about his arm in a grasp that actually hurt.

"They did that--all that shooting and yelling--just for a joke, then?"
she asked Mr. Hartley, a little later.

"Only that. They were giving you a welcome to the Six Star Ranch."

"Then they don't act like that all the time?"

"Hardly!" laughed the man. "I reckon they wouldn't get much work done if
they did."

Cordelia drew a relieved sigh. Her eyes, a little less fearful, rested
on the erect figure of the nearest cowboy, just to the right of the
carriage.

"I'm so glad," she murmured. "I'll tell Mrs. Miller. She thought they
did, you know--yell always without just and due provocation, and shoot
at sight."

The man's lips twitched; but the next moment they grew a bit stern at
the corners.

"That's exactly it, Miss Cordelia--exactly the idea that some people
have of the boys, and I'll grant that when they--they drink too much
whiskey, they aren't exactly what you might call peaceable, desirable