The dinner began quietly enough with the cowboys divided between embarrassment and voracious appetites that they evidently feared to indulge.  Wine, however, loosened their tongues, and when Stillwell got up to make the speech everybody seemed to expect of him they greeted him with a roar.

Stillwell was now one huge, mountainous smile.  He was so happy that he appeared on the verge of tears.  He rambled on ecstatically till he came to raise his glass.

“An’ now, girls an’ boys, let’s all drink to the bride an’ groom; to their sincere an’ lastin’ love; to their happiness an’ prosperity; to their good health an’ long life.  Let’s drink to the unitin’ of the East with the West.  No man full of red blood an’ the real breath of life could resist a Western girl an’ a good hoss an’ God’s free hand—­that open country out there.  So we claim Al Hammond, an’ may we be true to him.  An’, friends, I think it fittin’ that we drink to his sister an’ to our hopes.  Heah’s to the lady we hope to make our Majesty!  Heah’s to the man who’ll come ridin’ out of the West, a fine, big-hearted man with a fast hoss an’ a strong rope, an’ may he win an’ hold her!  Come, friends, drink.”

A heavy pound of horses’ hoofs and a yell outside arrested Stillwell’s voice and halted his hand in midair.

The patio became as silent as an unoccupied room.

Through the open doors and windows of Madeline’s chamber burst the sounds of horses stamping to a halt, then harsh speech of men, and a low cry of a woman in pain.

Rapid steps crossed the porch, entered Madeline’s room.  Nels appeared in the doorway.  Madeline was surprised to see that be had not been at the dinner-table.  She was disturbed at sight of his face.

“Stewart, you’re wanted outdoors,” called Nels, bluntly.  “Monty, you slope out here with me.  You, Nick, an’ Stillwell—­I reckon the rest of you hed better shut the doors an’ stay inside.”

Nels disappeared.  Quick as a cat Monty glided out.  Madeline heard his soft, swift steps pass from her room into her office.  He had left his guns there.  Madeline trembled.  She saw Stewart get up quietly and without any change of expression on his dark, sad face leave the patio.  Nick Steele followed him.  Stillwell dropped his wine-glass.  As it broke, shivering the silence, his huge smile vanished.  His face set into the old cragginess and the red slowly thickened into black.  Stillwell went out and closed the door behind him.

Then there was a blank silence.  The enjoyment of the moment had been rudely disrupted.  Madeline glanced down the lines of brown faces to see the pleasure fade into the old familiar hardness.

“What’s wrong?” asked Alfred, rather stupidly.  The change of mood had been too rapid for him.  Suddenly he awakened, thoroughly aroused at the interruption.  “I’m going to see who’s butted in here to spoil our dinner,” he said, and strode out.