he cowboy. But at the moment she really did not think about what he
had said. Any answer to her would have served if it had been kind. His
silence had augmented her nervousness, compelling her to voice her fear.
Still, even if he had not replied at all she would have gone on with
him. She shuddered at the idea of returning to the station, where she
believed there had been murder; she could hardly have forced herself to
go back to those dim lights in the street; she did not want to wander
around alone in the dark.

And as she walked on into the windy darkness, much relieved that he had
answered as he had, reflecting that he had yet to prove his words true,
she began to grasp the deeper significance of them. There was a revival
of pride that made her feel that she ought to scorn to think at all
about such a man. But Madeline Hammond discovered that thought was
involuntary, that there were feelings in her never dreamed of before
this night.

Presently Madeline's guide turned off the walk and rapped at a door of a
low-roofed house.

"Hullo--who's there?" a deep voice answered.

"Gene Stewart," said the cowboy. "Call Florence--quick!"

Thump of footsteps followed, a tap on a door, and voices. Madeline heard
a woman exclaim: "Gene! here when there's a dance in town! Something
wrong out on the range." A light flared up and shone bright through a
window. In another moment there came a patter of soft steps, and the
door opened to disclose a woman holding a lamp.

"Gene! Al's not--"

"Al is all right," interrupted the cowboy.

Madeline had two sensations then--one of wonder at the note of alarm
and love in the woman's voice, and the other of unutterable relief to be
safe with a friend of her brother's.

"It's Al's sister--came on to-night's train," the cowboy was saying. "I
happened to be at the station, and I've fetched her up to you."

Madeline came forward out of the shadow.

"Not--not really Majesty Hammond!" exclaimed Florence Kingsley. She
nearly dropped the lamp, and she looked and looked, astounded beyond
belief.

"Yes, I am really she," replied Madeline. "My train was late, and for
some reason Alfred did not meet me. Mr.--Mr. Stewart saw fit to bring me
to you instead of taking me to a hotel."

"Oh, I'm so glad to meet you," replied Florence, warmly. "Do come in.
I'm so surprised, I forget my manners. Why, Al never mentioned your
coming."

"He surely could not have received my messages," said Madeline,