arm around her he turned toward a
massive man whose broad, craggy face began to ripple and wrinkle. "I
want to introduce my friend Stillwell to you. Bill, this is my sister,
the sister I've so often told you about--Majesty."

"Wal, wal, Al, this's the proudest meetin' of my life," replied
Stillwell, in a booming voice. He extended a huge hand. "Miss--Miss
Majesty, sight of you is as welcome as the rain an' the flowers to an
old desert cattleman."

Madeline greeted him, and it was all she could do to repress a cry
at the way he crunched her hand in a grasp of iron. He was old,
white-haired, weather-beaten, with long furrows down his checks and with
gray eyes almost hidden in wrinkles. If he was smiling she fancied it a
most extraordinary smile. The next instant she realized that it had been
a smile, for his face appeared to stop rippling, the light died, and
suddenly it was like rudely chiseled stone. The quality of hardness she
had seen in Stewart was immeasurably intensified in this old man's face.

"Miss Majesty, it's plumb humiliatin' to all of us thet we wasn't on
hand to meet you," Stillwell said. "Me an' Al stepped into the P. O.
an' said a few mild an' cheerful things. Them messages ought to hev been
sent out to the ranch. I'm sure afraid it was a bit unpleasant fer you
last night at the station."

"I was rather anxious at first and perhaps frightened," replied
Madeline.

"Wal, I'm some glad to tell you thet there's no man in these parts
except your brother thet I'd as lief hev met you as Gene Stewart."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, an' thet's takin' into consideration Gene's weakness, too. I'm
allus fond of sayin' of myself thet I'm the last of the old cattlemen.
Wal, Stewart's not a native Westerner, but he's my pick of the last of
the cowboys. Sure, he's young, but he's the last of the old style--the
picturesque--an' chivalrous, too, I make bold to say, Miss Majesty, as
well as the old hard-ridin' kind. Folks are down on Stewart. An' I'm
only sayin' a good word for him because he is down, an' mebbe last night
he might hev scared you, you bein' fresh from the East."

Madeline liked the old fellow for his loyalty to the cowboy he evidently
cared for; but as there did not seem anything for her to say, she
remained silent.

"Miss Majesty, the day of the cattleman is about over. An' the day of
the cowboy, such as Gene Stewart, is over. There's no place for Gene. If
these weren't modern days he'd come near bein' a g