“Outdoors or in, they’ve got to be with us!” replied Stewart, sharply. “Listen, Al,” came the boom of Stillwell’s big voice, “now that we’ve butted in over hyar with the girls, you let Stewart run things.” Then a crowd of men tramped pell-mell out upon the porch. Stewart, dark-browed and somber, was in the lead. Nels hung close to him, and Madeline’s quick glance saw that Nels had undergone some indescribable change. The grinning, brilliant-eyed Don Carlos came jostling out beside a gaunt, sharp-featured man wearing a silver shield. This, no doubt, was Pat Hawe. In the background behind Stillwell and Alfred stood Nick Steele, head and shoulders over a number of vaqueros and cowboys. “Miss Hammond, I’m sorry you came,” said Stewart, bluntly. “We’re in a muddle here. I’ve insisted that you and Flo be kept close to us. I’ll explain later. If you can’t stop your ears I beg you to overlook rough talk.” With that he turned to the men behind him: “Nick, take Booly, go back to Monty and the boys. Fetch out that stuff. All of it. Rustle, now!” Stillwell and Alfred disengaged themselves from the crowd to take up positions in front of Madeline and Florence. Pat Hawe leaned against a post and insolently ogled Madeline and then Florence. Don Carlos pressed forward. His whole figure filled Madeline’s reluctant but fascinated eyes. He wore tight velveteen breeches, with a heavy fold down the outside seam, which was ornamented with silver buttons. Round his waist was a sash, and a belt with fringed holster, from which protruded a pearl-handled gun. A vest or waistcoat, richly embroidered, partly concealed a blouse of silk and wholly revealed a silken scarf round his neck. His swarthy face showed dark lines, like cords, under the surface. His little eyes were exceedingly prominent and glittering. To Madeline his face seemed to be a bold, handsome mask through which his eyes piercingly betrayed the evil nature of the man. He bowed low with elaborate and sinuous grace. His smile revealed brilliant teeth, enhanced the brilliance of his eyes. He slowly spread deprecatory hands. “Senoritas, I beg a thousand pardons,” he said. How strange it was for Madeline to hear English spoken in a soft, whiningly sweet accent! “The gracious hospitality of Don Carlos has passed with his house.” Stewart stepped forward and, thrusting Don Carlos aside, he called, “Make way, there!” The crowd fell back to the tramp of heavy boots. Cowboys appeared staggering out of the corridor with long boxes. These they placed side by side upon the floor of the porch. “Now, Hawe, we’ll proceed with our business,” said Stewart. “You see these boxes, don’t you?” “I reckon I see a good many things round hyar,” replied Hawe, meaningly. “Well, do you intend to open these boxes upon my say-so?” “No!” retorted Hawe. “It’s not my place to meddle with property as come by express an’ all accounted fer regular.” “You call yourself a sheriff!” exclaimed Stewart, scornfully.