stake. The fire's dyin' as quick as she flared
up. Wal, I hope none of the boys got risky to save a saddle or blanket.
Monty--he's hell on runnin' the gantlet of fire. He's like a hoss that's
jest been dragged out of a burnin' stable an' runs back sure locoed.
There! She's smolderin' down now. Reckon we-all might jest as well turn
in again. It's only three o'clock."

"I wonder how the fire originated?" remarked Alfred. "Some careless
cowboy's cigarette, I'll bet."

Stillwell rolled out his laugh.

"Al, you sure are a free-hearted, trustin' feller. I'm some doubtin' the
cigarette idee; but you can gamble if it was a cigarette it belonged to
a cunnin' vaquero, an' wasn't dropped accident-like."

"Now, Bill, you don't mean Don Carlos burned the rancho?" ejaculated
Alfred, in mingled amaze and anger.

Again the old cattleman laughed.

"Powerful strange to say, my friend, ole Bill means jest thet."

"Of course Don Carlos set that fire," put in Florence, with spirit. "Al,
if you live out heah a hundred years you'll never learn that Greasers
are treacherous. I know Gene Stewart suspected something underhand.
That's why he wanted us to hurry away. That's why he put me on the black
horse of Don Carlos's. He wants that horse for himself, and feared the
Don would steal or shoot him. And you, Bill Stillwell, you're as bad as
Al. You never distrust anybody till it's too late. You've been singing
ever since Stewart ordered the vaqueros off the range. But you sure
haven't been thinking."

"Wal, now, Flo, you needn't pitch into me jest because I hev a natural
Christian spirit," replied Stillwell, much aggrieved. "I reckon I've
hed enough trouble in my life so's not to go lookin' fer more. Wal, I'm
sorry about the hay burnin'. But mebbe the boys saved the stock. An'
as fer that ole adobe house of dark holes an' under-ground passages, so
long's Miss Majesty doesn't mind, I'm darn glad it burned. Come, let's
all turn in again. Somebody'll ride over early an' tell us what's what."

Madeline awakened early, but not so early as the others, who were up and
had breakfast ready when she went into the dining-room. Stillwell was
not in an amiable frame of mind. The furrows of worry lined his broad
brow and he continually glanced at his watch, and growled because
the cowboys were so late in riding over with the news. He gulped his
breakfast, and while Madeline and the others ate theirs he tramped
up and down the porch. Madeline noted tha