Florence hurried into the parlor, followed by Madeline.  The door stood open, and disclosed Stewart sitting on the porch steps.  From down the road came a clatter of hoofs.  Madeline looked out over Florence’s shoulder and saw a cloud of dust approaching, and in it she distinguished outlines of horses and riders.  A warmth spread over her, a little tingle of gladness, and the feeling recalled her girlish love for her brother.  What would he be like after long years?

“Gene, has Jack kept his mouth shut?” queried Florence; and again Madeline was aware of a sharp ring in the girl’s voice.

“No,” replied Stewart.

“Gene!  You won’t let it come to a fight?  Al can be managed.  But Jack hates you and he’ll have his friends with him.”

“There won’t be any fight.”

“Use your brains now,” added Florence; and then she turned to push Madeline gently back into the parlor.

Madeline’s glow of warmth changed to a blank dismay.  Was she to see her brother act with the violence she now associated with cowboys?  The clatter of hoofs stopped before the door.  Looking out, Madeline saw a bunch of dusty, wiry horses pawing the gravel and tossing lean heads.  Her swift glance ran over the lithe horsemen, trying to pick out the one who was her brother.  But she could not.  Her glance, however, caught the same rough dress and hard aspect that characterized the cowboy Stewart.  Then one rider threw his bridle, leaped from the saddle, and came bounding up the porch steps.  Florence met him at the door.

“Hello, Flo.  Where is she?” he called, eagerly.  With that he looked over her shoulder to espy Madeline.  He actually jumped at her.  She hardly knew the tall form and the bronzed face, but the warm flash of blue eyes was familiar.  As for him, he had no doubt of his sister, it appeared, for with broken welcome he threw his arms around her, then held her off and looked searchingly at her.

“Well, sister,” he began, when Florence turned hurriedly from the door and interrupted him.

“Al, I think you’d better stop the wrangling out there.”  He stared at her, appeared suddenly to hear the loud voices from the street, and then, releasing Madeline, he said: 

“By George!  I forgot, Flo.  There is a little business to see to.  Keep my sister in here, please, and don’t be fussed up now.”

He went out on the porch and called to his men: 

“Shut off your wind, Jack!  And you, too, Blaze!  I didn’t want you fellows to come here.  But as you would come, you’ve got to shut up.  This is my business.”

Whereupon he turned to Stewart, who was sitting on the fence.

“Hello, Stewart!” he said.

It was a greeting; but there was that in the voice which alarmed Madeline.

Stewart leisurely got up and leisurely advanced to the porch.

“Hello, Hammond!” he drawled.

“Drunk again last night?”