path. What
had made her thoughtful? Mostly it was something new or sudden or
inexplicable that stirred her mind to quick analysis. In this instance
the thing that had struck Madeline was Stewart's glance. He had looked
at her, and the old burning, inscrutable fire, the darkness, had left
his eyes. Suddenly they had been beautiful. The look had not been one of
surprise or admiration; nor had it been one of love. She was familiar,
too familiar with all three. It had not been a gaze of passion, for
there was nothing beautiful in that. Madeline pondered. And presently
she realized that Stewart's eyes had expressed a strange joy of pride.
That expression Madeline had never before encountered in the look of any
man. Probably its strangeness had made her notice it and accounted for
her blushing. The longer she lived among these outdoor men the more
they surprised her. Particularly, how incomprehensible was this cowboy
Stewart! Why should he have pride or joy at sight of her?

Florence's exclamation made Madeline once more attend to the approaching
automobile. It was on the slope now, some miles down the long gradual
slant. Two yellow funnel-shaped clouds of dust seemed to shoot out from
behind the car and roll aloft to join the column that stretched down the
valley.

"I wonder what riding a mile a minute would be like," said Florence.
"I'll sure make Link take me. Oh, but look at him come!"

The giant car resembled a white demon, and but for the dust would have
appeared to be sailing in the air. Its motion was steadily forward,
holding to the road as if on rails. And its velocity was astounding.
Long, gray veils, like pennants, streamed in the wind. A low rushing
sound became perceptible, and it grew louder, became a roar. The car
shot like an arrow past the alfalfa-field, by the bunk-houses, where the
cowboys waved and cheered. The horses and burros in the corrals began to
snort and tramp and race in fright. At the base of the long slope of
the foothill Link cut the speed more than half. Yet the car roared up,
rolling the dust, flying capes and veils and ulsters, and crashed and
cracked to a halt in the yard before the porch.

Madeline descried a gray, disheveled mass of humanity packed inside the
car. Besides the driver there were seven occupants, and for a moment
they appeared to be coming to life, moving and exclaiming under the
veils and wraps and dust-shields.

Link Stevens stepped out and, removing helmet and gogg