inaccessible—­good water and grass.  I wonder what the U. S. cavalry would think if they knew these guerrillas crossed the border right under their noses.  Well, it’s practically impossible to patrol some of that border-line.  It’s desert, mountain, and canyon, exceedingly wild and broken.  I’m sorry to say that there seems to be more trouble in sight with these guerrillas than at any time heretofore.  Orozco, the rebel leader, has failed to withstand Madero’s army.  The Federals are occupying Chihuahua now, and are driving the rebels north.  Orozco has broken up his army into guerrilla bands.  They are moving north and west, intending to carry on guerrilla warfare in Sonora.  I can’t say just how this will affect us here.  But we’re too close to the border for comfort.  These guerrillas are night-riding hawks; they can cross the border, raid us here, and get back the same night.  Fighting, I imagine, will not be restricted to northern Mexico.  With the revolution a failure the guerrillas will be more numerous, bolder, and hungrier.  Unfortunately, we happen to be favorably situated for them down here in this wilderness corner of the state.”

On the following day Alfred and Florence were married.  Florence’s sister and several friends from El Cajon were present, besides Madeline, Stillwell, and his men.  It was Alfred’s express wish that Stewart attend the ceremony.  Madeline was amused when she noticed the painfully suppressed excitement of the cowboys.  For them a wedding must have been an unusual and impressive event.  She began to have a better understanding of the nature of it when they cast off restraint and pressed forward to kiss the bride.  In all her life Madeline had never seen a bride kissed so much and so heartily, nor one so flushed and disheveled and happy.  This indeed was a joyful occasion.  There was nothing of the “effete East” about Alfred Hammond; he might have been a Westerner all his days.  When Madeline managed to get through the press of cowboys to offer her congratulations Alfred gave her a bear hug and a kiss.  This appeared to fascinate the cowboys.  With shining eyes and faces aglow, with smiling, boyish boldness, they made a rush at Madeline.  For one instant her heart leaped to her throat.  They looked as if they could most shamelessly kiss and maul her.  That little, ugly-faced, soft-eyed, rude, tender-hearted ruffian, Monty Price, was in the lead.  He resembled a dragon actuated by sentiment.  All at once Madeline’s instinctive antagonism to being touched by strange hands or lips battled with a real, warm, and fun-loving desire to let the cowboys work their will with her.  But she saw Stewart hanging at the back of the crowd, and something—­some fierce, dark expression of pain—­amazed her, while it froze her desire to be kind.  Then she did not know what change must have come to her face and bearing; but she saw Monty fall back sheepishly and the other cowboys draw aside to let her lead the way into the patio.