“What’s he doing there?  Who is he?” inquired the curious Helen.

“That is Stewart, my right-hand man,” replied Madeline.  “Every day when he is at the ranch he rides up there at sunset.  I think he likes the ride and the scene; but he goes to take a look at the cattle in the valley.”

“Is he a cowboy?” asked Helen.

“Indeed yes!” replied Madeline, with a little laugh.  “You will think so when Stillwell gets hold of you and begins to talk.”

Madeline found it necessary to explain who Stillwell was, and what he thought of Stewart, and, while she was about it, of her own accord she added a few details of Stewart’s fame.

“El Capitan.  How interesting!” mused Helen.  “What does he look like?”

“He is superb.”

Florence handed the field-glass to Helen and bade her look.

“Oh, thank you!” said Helen, as she complied.  “There.  I see him.  Indeed, he is superb.  What a magnificent horse!  How still he stands!  Why, he seems carved in stone.”

“Let me look?” said Dorothy Coombs, eagerly.

Helen gave her the glass.

“You can look, Dot, but that’s all.  He’s mine.  I saw him first.”

Whereupon Madeline’s feminine guests held a spirited contest over the field-glass, and three of them made gay, bantering boasts not to consider Helen’s self-asserted rights.  Madeline laughed with the others while she watched the dark figure of Stewart and his black outline against the sky.  There came over her a thought not by any means new or strange—­she wondered what was in Stewart’s mind as he stood there in the solitude and faced the desert and the darkening west.  Some day she meant to ask him.  Presently he turned the horse and rode down into the shadow creeping up the mesa.

“Majesty, have you planned any fun, any excitement for us?” asked Helen.  She was restless, nervous, and did not seem to be able to sit still a moment.

“You will think so when I get through with you,” replied Madeline.

“What, for instance?” inquired Helen and Dot and Mrs. Beck, in unison.  Edith Wayne smiled her interest.

“Well, I am not counting rides and climbs and golf; but these are necessary to train you for trips over into Arizona.  I want to show you the desert and the Aravaipa Canyon.  We have to go on horseback and pack our outfit.  If any of you are alive after those trips and want more we shall go up into the mountains.  I should like very much to know what you each want particularly.”

“I’ll tell you,” replied Helen, promptly.  “Dot will be the same out here as she was in the East.  She wants to look bashfully down at her hand—­a hand imprisoned in another, by the way—­and listen to a man talk poetry about her eyes.  If cowboys don’t make love that way Dot’s visit will be a failure.  Now Elsie Beck wants solely to be revenged upon us for dragging her out here.  She wants some dreadful thing to happen to us.  I don’t know what’s in Edith’s head, but it isn’t fun.  Bobby wants to be near Elsie, and no more.  Boyd wants what he has always wanted—­the only thing he ever wanted that he didn’t get.  Castleton has a horrible bloodthirsty desire to kill something.”