's
all. Nothin' to worry over. I was just explainin'."

Madeline, with several of her party, expressed relief, but Helen showed
excitement and then disappointment.

"Oh, I want something to happen!" she cried.

Sixteen pairs of keen cowboy eyes fastened intently upon her pretty,
petulant face; and Madeline divined, if Helen did not, that the desired
consummation was not far off.

"So do I," said Dot Coombs. "It would be perfectly lovely to have a real
adventure."

The gaze of the sixteen cowboys shifted and sought the demure face of
this other discontented girl. Madeline laughed, and Stillwell wore his
strange, moving smile.

"Wal, I reckon you ladies sure won't have to go home unhappy," he said.
"Why, as boss of this heah outfit I'd feel myself disgraced forever if
you didn't have your wish. Just wait. An' now, ladies, the matter on
hand may not be amusin' or excitin' to you; but to this heah cowboy
outfit it's powerful important. An' all the help you can give us will
sure be thankfully received. Take a look across the links. Do you-all
see them two apologies for human bein's prancin' like a couple of
hobbled broncs? Wal, you're gazin' at Monty Price an' Link Stevens,
who have of a sudden got too swell to associate with their old bunkies.
They're practisin' for the toornament. They don't want my boys to see
how they handle them crooked clubs."

"Have you picked your team?" inquired Madeline.

Stillwell mopped his red face with an immense bandana, and showed
something of confusion and perplexity.

"I've sixteen boys, an' they all want to play," he replied. "Pickin' the
team ain't goin' to be an easy job. Mebbe it won't be healthy, either.
There's Nels and Nick. They just stated cheerful-like that if they
didn't play we won't have any game at all. Nick never tried before, an'
Nels, all he wants is to get a crack at Monty with one of them crooked
clubs."

"I suggest you let all your boys drive from the tee and choose the two
who drive the farthest," said Madeline.

Stillwell's perplexed face lighted up.

"Wal, that's a plumb good idee. The boys'll stand for that."

Wherewith he broke up the admiring circle of cowboys round the ladies.

"Grap a rope--I mean a club--all you cow-punchers, an' march over hyar
an' take a swipe at this little white bean."

The cowboys obeyed with alacrity. There was considerable difficulty over
the choice of clubs and who should try first. The latter question had
to be adjus