had lived no other way. My guests expect to have fun. Let us meet
them with fun. Now what do you say?"

Stillwell rose, his great bulk towering, his huge face beaming.

"Wal, I say it's the most amazin' fine idee I ever heerd in my life."

"Indeed, I am glad you like it," went on Madeline.

"Come to me again, Stillwell, after you have spoken to the boys. But,
now that I have suggested it, I am a little afraid. You know what cowboy
fun is. Perhaps--"

"Don't you go back on that idee," interrupted Stillwell. He was assuring
and bland, but his hurry to convince Madeline betrayed him. "Leave the
boys to me. Why, don't they all swear by you, same as the Mexicans do
to the Virgin? They won't disgrace you, Miss Majesty. They'll be simply
immense. It'll beat any show you ever seen."

"I believe it will," replied Madeline. She was still doubtful of
her plan, but the enthusiasm of the old cattleman was infectious and
irresistible. "Very well, we will consider it settled. My guests will
arrive on May ninth. Meanwhile let us get Her Majesty's Rancho in shape
for this invasion."

* * *

On the afternoon of the ninth of May, perhaps half an hour after
Madeline had received a telephone message from Link Stevens announcing
the arrival of her guests at El Cajon, Florence called her out upon the
porch. Stillwell was there with his face wrinkled by his wonderful smile
and his eagle eyes riveted upon the distant valley. Far away, perhaps
twenty miles, a thin streak of white dust rose from the valley floor and
slanted skyward.

"Look!" said Florence, excitedly.

"What is that?" asked Madeline.

"Link Stevens and the automobile!"

"Oh no! Why, it's only a few minutes since he telephoned saying the
party had just arrived."

"Take a look with the glasses," said Florence.

One glance through the powerful binoculars convinced Madeline that
Florence was right. And another glance at Stillwell told her that he was
speechless with delight. She remembered a little conversation she had
had with Link Stevens a short while previous.

"Stevens, I hope the car is in good shape," she had said. "Now, Miss
Hammond, she's as right as the best-trained hoss I ever rode," he had
replied.

"The valley road is perfect," she had gone on, musingly. "I never saw
such a beautiful road, even in France. No fences, no ditches, no rocks,
no vehicles. Just a lonely road on the desert."

"Shore, it's lonely," Stevens had answered, with