Hammond. That riding-outfit is
a new one. What it 'd look like on me or another woman I can't imagine,
but on you it's--it's stunning. Bill won't let you go within a mile of
the cowboys. If they see you that'll be the finish of the round-up."

While they rode down the slope Florence talked about the open ranges of
New Mexico and Arizona.

"Water is scarce," she said. "If Bill could afford to pipe water down
from the mountains he'd have the finest ranch in the valley."

She went on to tell that the climate was mild in winter and hot in
summer. Warm, sunshiny days prevailed nearly all the year round. Some
summers it rained, and occasionally there would be a dry year, the
dreaded ano seco of the Mexicans. Rain was always expected and prayed
for in the midsummer months, and when it came the grama-grass sprang
up, making the valleys green from mountain to mountain. The intersecting
valleys, ranging between the long slope of foothills, afforded the best
pasture for cattle, and these were jealously sought by the Mexicans
who had only small herds to look after. Stillwell's cowboys were always
chasing these vaqueros off land that belonged to Stillwell. He owned
twenty thousand acres of unfenced land adjoining the open range. Don
Carlos possessed more acreage than that, and his cattle were always
mingling with Stillwell's. And in turn Don Carlos's vaqueros were always
chasing Stillwell's cattle away from the Mexican's watering-place. Bad
feeling had been manifested for years, and now relations were strained
to the breaking-point.

As Madeline rode along she made good use of her eyes. The soil was
sandy and porous, and she understood why the rain and water from the
few springs disappeared so quickly. At a little distance the grama-grass
appeared thick, but near at hand it was seen to be sparse. Bunches of
greasewood and cactus plants were interspersed here and there in
the grass. What surprised Madeline was the fact that, though she and
Florence had seemed to be riding quite awhile, they had apparently not
drawn any closer to the round-up. The slope of the valley was noticeable
only after some miles had been traversed. Looking forward, Madeline
imagined the valley only a few miles wide. She would have been sure she
could walk her horse across it in an hour. Yet that black, bold range
of Chiricahua Mountains was distant a long day's journey for even a
hard-riding cowboy. It was only by looking back that Madeline could
grasp the