“That’s Stewart. There is something wrong,” said Madeline, in alarm. Castleton stared. The other men exclaimed uneasily. The women sought Madeline’s face with anxious eyes. The black got into his stride and bore swiftly down upon them. “Oh, look at that horse run!” cried Helen. “Look at that fellow ride!” Helen was not alone in her admiration, for Madeline divided her emotions between growing alarm of some danger menacing and a thrill and quickening of pulse-beat that tingled over her whenever she saw Stewart in violent action. No action of his was any longer insignificant, but violent action meant so much. It might mean anything. For one moment she remembered Stillwell and all his talk about fun, and plots, and tricks to amuse her guest. Then she discountenanced the thought. Stewart might lend himself to a little fun, but he cared too much for a horse to run him at that speed unless there was imperious need. That alone sufficed to answer Madeline’s questioning curiosity. And her alarm mounted to fear not so much for herself as for her guests. But what danger could there be? She could think of nothing except the guerrillas. Whatever threatened, it would be met and checked by this man Stewart, who was thundering up on his fleet horse; and as he neared her, so that she could see the dark gleam of face and eyes, she had a strange feeling of trust in her dependence upon him. The big black was so close to Madeline and her friends that when Stewart pulled him the dust and sand kicked up by his pounding hoofs flew in their faces. “Oh, Stewart, what is it?” cried Madeline. “Guess I scared you, Miss Hammond,” he replied. “But I’m pressed for time. There’s a gang of bandits hiding on the ranch, most likely in a deserted hut. They held up a train near Agua Prieta. Pat Hawe is with the posse that’s trailing them, and you know Pat has no use for us. I’m afraid it wouldn’t be pleasant for you or your guests to meet either the posse or the bandits.” “I fancy not,” said Madeline, considerably relieved. “We’ll hurry back to the house.” They exchanged no more speech at the moment, and Madeline’s guests were silent. Perhaps Stewart’s actions and looks belied his calm words. His piercing eyes roved round the rim of the mesa, and his face was as hard and stern as chiseled bronze. Monty and Nick came galloping up, each leading several horses by the bridles. Nels appeared behind them with Majesty, and he was having trouble with the roan. Madeline observed that all the other cowboys had disappeared. One sharp word from Stewart calmed Madeline’s horse; the other horses, however, were frightened and not inclined to stand. The men mounted without trouble, and likewise Madeline and Florence. But Edith Wayne and Mrs. Beck, being nervous and almost helpless, were with difficulty gotten into the saddle.