norable man. Moreover, never in my born days has my word
been doubted without sorrow. So I'm askin' you, wasn't my ball layin'
just about here?'

"The bloody little desperado smiled cheerfully, and he dropped his right
hand down to the butt of his gun. By Jove, he did! Then I had to tell a
blooming lie!"

Castleton even caught the tone of Monty's voice, but it was plain that
he had not the least conception that Monty had been fooling. Madeline
and her friends divined it, however; and, there being no need of
reserve, they let loose the fountains of mirth.

XIV. Bandits

When Madeline and her party recovered composure they sat up to watch the
finish of the match. It came with spectacular suddenness. A sharp yell
pealed out, and all the cowboys turned attentively in its direction. A
big black horse had surmounted the rim of the mesa and was just breaking
into a run. His rider yelled sharply to the cowboys. They wheeled to
dash toward their grazing horses.

"That's Stewart. There is something wrong," said Madeline, in alarm.

Castleton stared. The other men exclaimed uneasily. The women sought
Madeline's face with anxious eyes.

The black got into his stride and bore swiftly down upon them.

"Oh, look at that horse run!" cried Helen. "Look at that fellow ride!"

Helen was not alone in her admiration, for Madeline divided her
emotions between growing alarm of some danger menacing and a thrill and
quickening of pulse-beat that tingled over her whenever she saw Stewart
in violent action. No action of his was any longer insignificant, but
violent action meant so much. It might mean anything. For one moment she
remembered Stillwell and all his talk about fun, and plots, and tricks
to amuse her guest. Then she discountenanced the thought. Stewart might
lend himself to a little fun, but he cared too much for a horse to run
him at that speed unless there was imperious need. That alone sufficed
to answer Madeline's questioning curiosity. And her alarm mounted to
fear not so much for herself as for her guests. But what danger could
there be? She could think of nothing except the guerrillas.

Whatever threatened, it would be met and checked by this man Stewart,
who was thundering up on his fleet horse; and as he neared her, so that
she could see the dark gleam of face and eyes, she had a strange feeling
of trust in her dependence upon him.

The big black was so close to Madeline and her friends that when Stewart
pul