Madeline never saw a group of her cowboys without looking them over, almost unconsciously, for her foreman, Gene Stewart. This afternoon, as usual, he was not present. However, she now had a sense—of which she was wholly conscious—that she was both disappointed and irritated. He had really not been attentive to her guests, and he, of all her cowboys, was the one of whom they wanted most to see something. Helen, particularly, had asked to have him attend the match. But Stewart was with the cattle. Madeline thought of his faithfulness, and was ashamed of her momentary lapse into that old imperious habit of desiring things irrespective of reason. Stewart, however, immediately slipped out of her mind as she surveyed the group of cowboys on the links. By actual count there were sixteen, not including Stillwell. And the same number of splendid horses, all shiny and clean, grazed on the rim in the care of Mexican lads. The cowboys were on dress-parade, looking very different in Madeline’s eyes, at least, from the way cowboys usually appeared. But they were real and natural to her guests; and they were so picturesque that they might have been stage cowboys instead of real ones. Sombreros with silver buckles and horsehair bands were in evidence; and bright silk scarfs, embroidered vests, fringed and ornamented chaps, huge swinging guns, and clinking silver spurs lent a festive appearance. Madeline and her party were at once eagerly surrounded by the cowboys, and she found it difficult to repress a smile. If these cowboys were still remarkable to her, what must they be to her guests? “Wal, you-all raced over, I seen,” said Stillwell, taking Madeline’s bridle. “Get down—get down. We’re sure amazin’ glad an’ proud. An’, Miss Majesty, I’m offerin’ to beg pawdin for the way the boys are packin’ guns. Mebbe it ain’t polite. But it’s Stewart’s orders.” “Stewart’s orders!” echoed Madeline. Her friends were suddenly silent. “I reckon he won’t take no chances on the boys bein’ surprised sudden by raiders. An’ there’s raiders operatin’ in from the Guadalupes. That’s all. Nothin’ to worry over. I was just explainin’.” Madeline, with several of her party, expressed relief, but Helen showed excitement and then disappointment. “Oh, I want something to happen!” she cried. Sixteen pairs of keen cowboy eyes fastened intently upon her pretty, petulant face; and Madeline divined, if Helen did not, that the desired consummation was not far off. “So do I,” said Dot Coombs. “It would be perfectly lovely to have a real adventure.” The gaze of the sixteen cowboys shifted and sought the demure face of this other discontented girl. Madeline laughed, and Stillwell wore his strange, moving smile.