Hawe in an exhortation
of mingled English and Spanish. He denied, he avowed, he proclaimed,
and all in rapid, passionate utterance. He tossed his black hair in
his vehemence; he waved his fists and stamped the floor; he rolled
his glittering eyes; he twisted his thin lips into a hundred different
shapes, and like a cornered wolf showed snarling white teeth.

It seemed to Madeline that Don Carlos denied knowledge of the boxes of
contraband goods, then knowledge of their real contents, then knowledge
of their destination, and, finally, everything except that they were
there in sight, damning witnesses to somebody's complicity in the
breaking of neutrality laws. Passionate as had been his denial of all
this, it was as nothing compared to his denunciation of Stewart.

"Senor Stewart, he keel my Vaquero!" shouted Don Carlos, as, sweating
and spent, he concluded his arraignment of the cowboy. "Him you must
arrest! Senor Stewart a bad man! He keel my vaquero!"

"Do you hear thet?" yelled Hawe. "The Don's got you figgered fer thet
little job at El Cajon last fall."

The clamor burst into a roar. Hawe began shaking his finger in Stewart's
face and hoarsely shouting. Then a lithe young vaquero, swift as
an Indian, glided under Hawe's uplifted arm. Whatever the action he
intended, he was too late for its execution. Stewart lunged out,
struck the vaquero, and knocked him off the porch. As he fell a dagger
glittered in the sunlight and rolled clinking over the stones. The man
went down hard and did not move. With the same abrupt violence, and a
manner of contempt, Stewart threw Hawe off the porch, then Don Carlos,
who, being less supple, fell heavily. Then the mob backed before
Stewart's rush until all were down in the courtyard.

The shuffling of feet ceased, the clanking of spurs, and the shouting.
Nels and Monty, now reinforced by Nick Steele, were as shadows of
Stewart, so closely did they follow him. Stewart waved them back and
stepped down into the yard. He was absolutely fearless; but what struck
Madeline so keenly was his magnificent disdain. Manifestly, he knew the
nature of the men with whom he was dealing. From the look of him it was
natural for Madeline to expect them to give way before him, which they
did, even Hawe and his attendants sullenly retreating.

Don Carlos got up to confront Stewart. The prostrate vaquero stirred and
moaned, but did not rise.

"You needn't jibber Spanish to me," said Stewart. "You can