and
Monty. Cannot they be controlled? I want to feel that they will not go
gunning for Don Carlos's men. I want to avoid all violence. And yet
when my guests come I want to feel that they will be safe from danger or
fright or even annoyance. May I not rely wholly upon you, Stewart? Just
trust you to manage these obstreperous cowboys and protect my property
and Alfred's, and take care of us--of me, until this revolution is
ended? I have never had a day's worry since I bought the ranch. It is
not that I want to shirk my responsibilities; it is that I like being
happy. May I put so much faith in you?"

"I hope so, Miss Hammond," replied Stewart. It was an instant response,
but none the less fraught with consciousness of responsibility. He
waited a moment, and then, as neither Stillwell nor Madeline offered
further speech, he bowed and turned down the path, his long spurs
clinking in the gravel.

"Wal, wal," exclaimed Stillwell, "thet's no little job you give him,
Miss Majesty."

"It was a woman's cunning, Stillwell," said Alfred. "My sister used to
be a wonder at getting her own way when we were kids. Just a smile
or two, a few sweet words or turns of thought, and she had what she
wanted."

"Al, what a character to give me!" protested Madeline. "Indeed, I was
deeply in earnest with Stewart. I do not understand just why, but I
trust him. He seems like iron and steel. Then I was a little frightened
at the prospect of trouble with the vaqueros. Both you and Stillwell
have influenced me to look upon Stewart as invaluable. I thought it best
to confess my utter helplessness and to look to him for support."

"Majesty, whatever actuated you, it was a stroke of diplomacy," replied
her brother. "Stewart has got good stuff in him. He was down and out.
Well, he's made a game fight, and it looks as if he'd win. Trusting
him, giving him responsibility, relying upon him, was the surest way to
strengthen his hold upon himself. Then that little touch of sentiment
about being your kind of cowboy and protecting you--well, if Gene
Stewart doesn't develop into an Argus-eyed knight I'll say I don't know
cowboys. But, Majesty, remember, he's a composite of tiger breed and
forked lightning, and don't imagine he has failed you if he gets into a
fight.

"I'll sure tell you what Gene Stewart will do," said Florence. "Don't I
know cowboys? Why, they used to take me up on their horses when I was a
baby. Gene Stewart will be the kind of cowboy