Carlos's
black horse over there in the corral?"

"It sure is. Then the Don's heah yet. I wish we hadn't been in such a
hurry to come over. There! that doesn't sound encouraging."

From the corridor came the rattling of spurs, tramping of boots, and
loud voices. Madeline detected Alfred's quick notes when he was annoyed:
"We'll rustle back home, then," he said. The answer came, "No!" Madeline
recognized Stewart's voice, and she quickly straightened up. "I won't
have them in here," went on Alfred.

"Outdoors or in, they've got to be with us!" replied Stewart, sharply.
"Listen, Al," came the boom of Stillwell's big voice, "now that we've
butted in over hyar with the girls, you let Stewart run things."

Then a crowd of men tramped pell-mell out upon the porch. Stewart,
dark-browed and somber, was in the lead. Nels hung close to him, and
Madeline's quick glance saw that Nels had undergone some indescribable
change. The grinning, brilliant-eyed Don Carlos came jostling out beside
a gaunt, sharp-featured man wearing a silver shield. This, no doubt,
was Pat Hawe. In the background behind Stillwell and Alfred stood Nick
Steele, head and shoulders over a number of vaqueros and cowboys.

"Miss Hammond, I'm sorry you came," said Stewart, bluntly. "We're in a
muddle here. I've insisted that you and Flo be kept close to us. I'll
explain later. If you can't stop your ears I beg you to overlook rough
talk."

With that he turned to the men behind him: "Nick, take Booly, go back to
Monty and the boys. Fetch out that stuff. All of it. Rustle, now!"

Stillwell and Alfred disengaged themselves from the crowd to take up
positions in front of Madeline and Florence. Pat Hawe leaned against a
post and insolently ogled Madeline and then Florence. Don Carlos pressed
forward. His whole figure filled Madeline's reluctant but fascinated
eyes. He wore tight velveteen breeches, with a heavy fold down the
outside seam, which was ornamented with silver buttons. Round his waist
was a sash, and a belt with fringed holster, from which protruded a
pearl-handled gun. A vest or waistcoat, richly embroidered, partly
concealed a blouse of silk and wholly revealed a silken scarf round his
neck. His swarthy face showed dark lines, like cords, under the surface.
His little eyes were exceedingly prominent and glittering. To Madeline
his face seemed to be a bold, handsome mask through which his eyes
piercingly betrayed the evil nature of the man.

He bowed