, brown bird sailed so close to her she could
have touched it with her whip. But she was only vaguely aware of these
things. She was watching for Florence, listening for some sound fraught
with untoward meaning. All of a sudden she saw Majesty's ears were held
straight up. Then Florence's face, now strangely white, showed round the
turn of the trail.

"'S-s-s-sh!" whispered Florence, holding up a warning finger. She
reached the black horse and petted him, evidently to still an uneasiness
he manifested. "We're in for it," she went on. "A whole bunch of
vaqueros hiding among the mesquite over the ridge! They've not seen or
heard us yet. We'd better risk riding ahead, cut off the trail, and beat
them to the ranch. Madeline, you're white as death! Don't faint now!"

"I shall not faint. But you frighten me. Is there danger? What shall we
do?"

"There's danger. Madeline, I wouldn't deceive you," went on Florence, in
an earnest whisper. "Things have turned out just as Gene Stewart hinted.
Oh, we should--Al should have listened to Gene! I believe--I'm afraid
Gene knew!"

"Knew what?" asked Madeline.

"Never mind now. Listen. We daren't take the back trail. We'll go
on. I've a scheme to fool that grinning Don Carlos. Get down,
Madeline--hurry."

Madeline dismounted.

"Give me your white sweater. Take it off--And that white hat! Hurry,
Madeline."

"Florence, what on earth do you mean?" cried Madeline.

"Not so loud," whispered the other. Her gray eyes snapped. She had
divested herself of sombrero and jacket, which she held out to Madeline.
"Heah. Take these. Give me yours. Then get up on the black. I'll ride
Majesty. Rustle now, Madeline. This is no time to talk."

"But, dear, why--why do you want--? Ah! You're going to make the
vaqueros take you for me!"

"You guessed it. Will you--"

"I shall not allow you to do anything of the kind," returned Madeline.

It was then that Florence's face, changing, took on the hard, stern
sharpness so typical of a cowboy's. Madeline had caught glimpses of that
expression in Alfred's face, and on Stewart's when he was silent, and
on Stillwell's always. It was a look of iron and fire--unchangeable,
unquenchable will. There was even much of violence in the swift action
whereby Florence compelled Madeline to the change of apparel.

"It 'd been my idea, anyhow, if Stewart hadn't told me to do it,"
said Florence, her words as swift as her hands. "Don Carlos is after
you--you, Miss M