o religious belief.
But it was possible. And she knew that religious fervor often manifested
itself in extremes of feeling and action. Most likely, in Stewart's
case, his real manner had been both misunderstood and exaggerated.
However, Madeline had a curious desire, which she did not wholly admit
to herself, to see the cowboy and make her own deductions.

The opportunity did not present itself for nearly two weeks. Stewart had
taken up his duties as foreman, and his activities were ceaseless. He
was absent most of the time, ranging down toward the Mexican line. When
he returned Stillwell sent for him.

This was late in the afternoon of a day in the middle of April. Alfred
and Florence were with Madeline on the porch. They saw the cowboy turn
his horse over to one of the Mexican boys at the corral and then come
with weary step up to the house, beating the dust out of his gauntlets.
Little streams of gray sand trickled from his sombrero as he removed it
and bowed to the women.

Madeline saw the man she remembered, but with a singularly different
aspect. His skin was brown; his eyes were piercing and dark and steady;
he carried himself erect; he seemed preoccupied, and there was not a
trace of embarrassment in his manner.

"Wal, Gene, I'm sure glad to see you," Stillwell was saying. "Where do
you hail from?"

"Guadaloupe Canyon," replied the cowboy.

Stillwell whistled.

"Way down there! You don't mean you follered them hoss tracks thet far?"

"All the way from Don Carlos's rancho across the Mexican line. I took
Nick Steele with me. Nick is the best tracker in the outfit. This trail
we were on led along the foothill valleys. First we thought whoever made
it was hunting for water. But they passed two ranches without watering.
At Seaton's Wash they dug for water. Here they met a pack-train of
burros that came down the mountain trail. The burros were heavily
loaded. Horse and burro tracks struck south from Seaton's to the old
California emigrant road. We followed the trail through Guadelope Canyon
and across the border. On the way back we stopped at Slaughter's ranch,
where the United States cavalry are camping. There we met foresters from
the Peloncillo forest reserve. If these fellows knew anything they kept
it to themselves. So we hit the trail home."

"Wal, I reckon you know enough?" inquired Stillwell, slowly.

"I reckon," replied Stewart.

"Wal, out with it, then," said Stillwell, gruffly. "Miss Hammond ca