The Winslow mail., 1923-06-08

ence for long time" said Alfred.
i Hes not Joung man by any means.
He's fifty, Bill says; but you can sell
dom tell q MeXican's age from his
looks. Don Carlos is we'll educated
and man we know very little about.
MeXicaas of his stamp don't regard
women as we white men do. Now,
my dear, beautiful sister from New
York, l haven't much use for Don Car
los; but 1 don't want Nels or Ambrose
to make a wild throw with a rope and
pull the Don off his horse. So you had
better ride up to the house and stay
there"
alfred. you are joking, teasing me-"
said Madeline.
Indeed not" replied Alfred. "How
about it., FLOP"
! Florence replied that the cowboys
would upon the slightest provocation
/ treat Don Carlos with less ceremony
and gentleness than roped steer. Old
| Bill Stillwell came up to be importuned
by Alfred regarding the conduct of
cowboys on occasion, and he not only
| corroborated the assertion, but added
emphasis and evidence Of his own.
can, Miss Majesty" he concluded
Il reckon if Gene Stewart was ridin'
fer me, tibet GRIMM Greaser would
hev he'd bump in the dust before
now"
Madeline had been wavering between
sobriety and laughter until Stillwell's
mention of his ideal of cowboy chiv-
airy decided in favor of the laughter
II am not convinced, but I surren-
der" she said. "You have only some
occult motive for driving me away. l
am sure that handsome Don Carlos is
being unjustly suspected But as l
have seen a little of cowboys singular
imagination and gallantry, am rather
inclined to fear their possibilities. So
good-by"
Then she rode with Florence up the
long, gray slope to the ranch-house.
That night she suffered from excessive
WEAKNESS, which she attributed more
to the strange working of her mind
than to riding and sitting her horse
Morning, however found her in no dis
position to rest. 1t was not activity
that she craved or excitement, or
pleasure. An unerring instinct. rising
clear from the thronging sensations of
the last few days. told her that she
had missed something in life. What
ever this something was. she had baf-
fling limitations of it, hopes that faded
on the verge of realizations, haunting
promises that were unfulflled. What
ever it was, it had remained hidden
and unknown at home, and here in the
West it began to allure and drive her
to discovery. Therefore she could not
rest; she wanted to go and see; she
was no longer chasing phantoms; it
was q hunt for treasure that held
aloOf, as intangible as the substance of
dreams.
Upon the morning after the end of
the roundup, when she went out on
the porch, her brother and StillweIl
appeared to be arguing about the iden-
tity of horse.
oval, l reckon it's my old roam"
said Stillwell, shading his eyes with
his hand.
"Bill, if that isn't Stewards horse
my eyes are going back on me-" replied
AL. tits not the color or shape-the
distance is too far to Judge by that
It's the motion-the swing"
GAL mebbe you're right. But they
amt no rider up on tibet boss. Flo,
fetch my glass"
Florence went into the house, while
Madeline tried to discover the object
of attention. Presently far up the gray
hollow along a foothill she saw dust,
and then the dark, moving figure of a
horse. She was watching when Flor
ence returned with the glass. Bill
took long look, adjusted the glasses
carefully, and tried again.
oval, I hate to admit my eyes are
gettin' pore. But 1 guess I'll hev to.
Thet's Gene Stewards boss, saddIed,
an comm at a fast clip without a
rider. It's amazin' strange, an some
in keepin' with other things concernin'
Gene"
"Give me the glass;" said Al. eyes,
l was right Bill, the horse is not
frightened. He's coming steadily; he's
got something on his mind"
The wide hollow sloping up into the
foothills lay open to unobstructed
view, and less than half a mile distant
Madeline saw the riderless horse COM
ing along the white trail at a rapid
canter. A shrill, piercing whistle pealed
in.
oval, he's seen US, thet's sure" said
Bill.
The horse neared the corrals disap-
peared into a lane, and then, breaking
his gait again Numbered into the in
closure and pounded to a halt some
twenty yards from where Stillwell
waited for him.
One look at him at close range in
the clear light of day was enough for
Madeline to award him a blue ribbon
over all horses, even the prize-winner,
White Stockings. The cowboys great