had money that I could not have found
such contentment here. That is not in any sense a judgment against the
West. But if I had been poor I could not have bought and maintained my
ranch. Stillwell tells me there are many larger ranches than mine,
but none just like it. Then I am almost paying my expenses out of my
business. Think of that! My income, instead of being wasted, is mostly
saved. I think--I hope I am useful. I have been of some little good
to the Mexicans--eased the hardships of a few cowboys. For the rest, I
think my life is a kind of dream. Of course my ranch and range are real,
my cowboys are typical. If I were to tell you how I feel about them it
would simply be a story of how Madeline Hammond sees the West. They are
true to the West. It is I who am strange, and what I feel for them may
be strange, too. Edith, hold to your own impressions."

"But, Majesty, my impressions have changed. At first I did not like the
wind, the dust, the sun, the endless open stretches. But now I do like
them. Where once I saw only terrible wastes of barren ground now I see
beauty and something noble. Then, at first, your cowboys struck me as
dirty, rough, loud, crude, savage--all that was primitive. I did not
want them near me. I imagined them callous, hard men, their only joy a
carouse with their kind. But I was wrong. I have changed. The dirt was
only dust, and this desert dust is clean. They are still rough, loud,
crude, and savage in my eyes, but with a difference. They are natural
men. They are little children. Monty Price is one of nature's noblemen.
The hard thing is to discover it. All his hideous person, all his
actions and speech, are masks of his real nature. Nels is a joy, a
simple, sweet, kindly, quiet man whom some woman should have loved. What
would love have meant to him! He told me that no woman ever loved him
except his mother, and he lost her when he was ten. Every man ought to
be loved--especially such a man as Nels. Somehow his gun record does
not impress me. I never could believe he killed a man. Then take your
foreman, Stewart. He is a cowboy, his work and life the same as the
others. But he has education and most of the graces we are in the habit
of saying make a gentleman. Stewart is a strange fellow, just like this
strange country. He's a man, Majesty, and I admire him. So, you see, my
impressions are developing with my stay out here."

"Edith, I am so glad you told me that," replied Madeline, warmly.