“Well, if you want to know, and if it’s any of your mix, yes, I was-pretty drunk,” replied Stewart.

It was a kind of cool speech that showed the cowboy in control of himself and master of the situation—­not an easy speech to follow up with undue inquisitiveness.  There was a short silence.

“Damn it, Stewart,” said the speaker, presently, “here’s the situation:  It’s all over town that you met my sister last night at the station and—­and insulted her.  Jack’s got it in for you, so have these other boys.  But it’s my affair.  Understand, I didn’t fetch them here.  They can see you square yourself, or else—­Gene, you’ve been on the wrong trail for some time, drinking and all that.  You’re going to the bad.  But Bill thinks, and I think, you’re still a man.  We never knew you to lie.  Now what have you to say for yourself?”

“Nobody is insinuating that I am a liar?” drawled Stewart.

“No.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.  You see, Al, I was pretty drunk last night, but not drunk enough to forget the least thing I did.  I told Pat Hawe so this morning when he was curious.  And that’s polite for me to be to Pat.  Well, I found Miss Hammond waiting alone at the station.  She wore a veil, but I knew she was a lady, of course.  I imagine, now that I think of it, that Miss Hammond found my gallantry rather startling, and—­”

At this point Madeline, answering to unconsidered impulse, eluded Florence and walked out upon the porch.

Sombreros flashed down and the lean horses jumped.

“Gentlemen,” said Madeline, rather breathlessly; and it did not add to her calmness to feel a hot flush in her cheeks, “I am very new to Western ways, but I think you are laboring under a mistake, which, in justice to Mr. Stewart, I want to correct.  Indeed, he was rather—­rather abrupt and strange when he came up to me last night; but as I understand him now, I can attribute that to his gallantry.  He was somewhat wild and sudden and—­ sentimental in his demand to protect me—­and it was not clear whether he meant his protection for last night or forever; but I am happy to say be offered me no word that was not honorable.  And he saw me safely here to Miss Kingsley’s home.”

III Sister and Brother

Then Madeline returned to the little parlor with the brother whom she had hardly recognized.

“Majesty!” he exclaimed.  “To think of your being here!”

The warmth stole back along her veins.  She remembered how that pet name had sounded from the lips of this brother who had given it to her.

“Alfred!”

Then his words of gladness at sight of her, his chagrin at not being at the train to welcome her, were not so memorable of him as the way he clasped her, for he had held her that way the day he left home, and she had not forgotten.  But now he was so much taller and bigger, so dusty and strange and different and forceful, that she could scarcely think him the same man.  She even had a humorous thought that here was another cowboy bullying her, and this time it was her brother.