There was in the wistful reply, accompanied by a dark and eloquent glance of eyes, what told Madeline of Edith’s understanding, of her sympathy, and perhaps a betrayal of her own unquiet soul. It saddened Madeline. How many women might there not be who had the longing to break down the bars of their cage, but had not the spirit! XIII. Cowboy Golf In the whirl of the succeeding days it was a mooted question whether Madeline’s guests or her cowboys or herself got the keenest enjoyment out of the flying time. Considering the sameness of the cowboys’ ordinary life, she was inclined to think they made the most of the present. Stillwell and Stewart, however, had found the situation trying. The work of the ranch had to go on, and some of it got sadly neglected. Stillwell could not resist the ladies any more than he could resist the fun in the extraordinary goings-on of the cowboys. Stewart alone kept the business of cattle-raising from a serious setback. Early and late he was in the saddle, driving the lazy Mexicans whom he had hired to relieve the cowboys. One morning in June Madeline was sitting on the porch with her merry friends when Stillwell appeared on the corral path. He had not come to consult Madeline for several days—an omission so unusual as to be remarked. “Here comes Bill—in trouble,” laughed Florence. Indeed, he bore some faint resemblance to a thundercloud as he approached the porch; but the greetings he got from Madeline’s party, especially from Helen and Dorothy, chased away the blackness from his face and brought the wonderful wrinkling smile. “Miss Majesty, sure I’m a sad demoralized old cattleman,” he said, presently. “An’ I’m in need of a heap of help.” “What’s wrong now?” asked Madeline, with her encouraging smile.