She was not surprised to find the hour late, and was going to make inquiry about her brother when a voice arrested her.  She recognized Miss Kingsley’s voice addressing some one outside, and it had a sharpness she had not noted before.

“So you came back, did you?  Well, you don’t look very proud of yourself this mawnin’.  Gene Stewart, you look like a coyote.”

“Say, Flo if I am a coyote I’m not going to sneak,” he said.

“What ’d you come for?” she demanded.

“I said I was coming round to take my medicine.”

“Meaning you’ll not run from Al Hammond?  Gene, your skull is as thick as an old cow’s.  Al will never know anything about what you did to his sister unless you tell him.  And if you do that he’ll shoot you.  She won’t give you away.  She’s a thoroughbred.  Why, she was so white last night I thought she’d drop at my feet, but she never blinked an eyelash.  I’m a woman, Gene Stewart and if I couldn’t feel like Miss Hammond I know how awful an ordeal she must have had.  Why, she’s one of the most beautiful, the most sought after, the most exclusive women in New York City.  There’s a crowd of millionaires and lords and dukes after her.  How terrible it’d be for a woman like her to be kissed by a drunken cowpuncher!  I say it—­”

“Flo, I never insulted her that way,” broke out Stewart.

“It was worse, then?” she queried, sharply.

“I made a bet that I’d marry the first girl who came to town.  I was on the watch and pretty drunk.  When she came—­well, I got Padre Marcos and tried to bully her into marrying me.”

“Oh, Lord!” Florence gasped.  “It’s worse than I feared. . . .  Gene, Al will kill you.”

“That’ll be a good thing,” replied the cowboy, dejectedly.

“Gene Stewart, it certainly would, unless you turn over a new leaf,” retorted Florence.  “But don’t be a fool.”  And here she became earnest and appealing.  “Go away, Gene.  Go join the rebels across the border—­you’re always threatening that.  Anyhow, don’t stay here and run any chance of stirring Al up.  He’d kill you just the same as you would kill another man for insulting your sister.  Don’t make trouble for Al.  That’d only make sorrow for her, Gene.”

The subtle import was not lost upon Madeline.  She was distressed because she could not avoid hearing what was not meant for her ears.  She made an effort not to listen, and it was futile.

“Flo, you can’t see this a man’s way,” he replied, quietly.  “I’ll stay and take my medicine.”

“Gene, I could sure swear at you or any other pig-head of a cowboy.  Listen.  My brother-in-law, Jack, heard something of what I said to you last night.  He doesn’t like you.  I’m afraid he’ll tell Al.  For Heaven’s sake, man, go down-town and shut him up and yourself, too.”

Then Madeline heard her come into the house and presently rap on the door and call softly: