e saw him turn every moment or so to look back, probably to
assure himself that she was close behind.

With a prospect of fire and warmth, and food and rest, Madeline's
enthusiasm revived. What a climb! There was promise in this wild ride
and lonely trail and hidden craggy height, not only in the adventure her
friends yearned for, but in some nameless joy and spirit for herself.

XVI. The Crags

Glad indeed was Madeline to be lifted off her horse beside a roaring
fire--to see steaming pots upon red-hot coals. Except about her
shoulders, which had been protected by the slicker, she was wringing
wet. The Mexican women came quickly to help her change in a tent near
by; but Madeline preferred for the moment to warm her numb feet and
hands and to watch the spectacle of her arriving friends.

Dorothy plumped off her saddle into the arms of several waiting cowboys.
She could scarcely walk. Far removed in appearance was she from her
usual stylish self. Her face was hidden by a limp and lopsided hat.
From under the disheveled brim came a plaintive moan: "O-h-h! what a-an
a-awful ride!" Mrs. Beck was in worse condition; she had to be taken
off her horse. "I'm paralyzed--I'm a wreck. Bobby, get a roller-chair."
Bobby was solicitous and willing, but there were no roller-chairs.
Florence dismounted easily, and but for her mass of hair, wet and
tumbling, would have been taken for a handsome cowboy. Edith Wayne had
stood the physical strain of the ride better than Dorothy; however, as
her mount was rather small, she had been more at the mercy of cactus
and brush. Her habit hung in tatters. Helen had preserved a remnant of
style, as well as of pride, and perhaps a little strength. But her face
was white, her eyes were big, and she limped. "Majesty!" she exclaimed.
"What did you want to do to us? Kill us outright or make us homesick?"
Of all of them, however, Ambrose's wife, Christine, the little French
maid, had suffered the most in that long ride. She was unaccustomed to
horses. Ambrose had to carry her into the big tent. Florence persuaded
Madeline to leave the fire, and when they went in with the others
Dorothy was wailing because her wet boots would not come off, Mrs.
Beck was weeping and trying to direct a Mexican woman to unfasten her
bedraggled dress, and there was general pandemonium.

"Warm clothes--hot drinks and grub--warm blankets," rang out Stewart's
sharp order.

Then, with Florence helping the Mexican women,