“Miss Majesty, it’s plumb humiliatin’ to all of us thet we wasn’t on hand to meet you,” Stillwell said.  “Me an’ Al stepped into the P. O. an’ said a few mild an’ cheerful things.  Them messages ought to hev been sent out to the ranch.  I’m sure afraid it was a bit unpleasant fer you last night at the station.”

“I was rather anxious at first and perhaps frightened,” replied Madeline.

“Wal, I’m some glad to tell you thet there’s no man in these parts except your brother thet I’d as lief hev met you as Gene Stewart.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, an’ thet’s takin’ into consideration Gene’s weakness, too.  I’m allus fond of sayin’ of myself thet I’m the last of the old cattlemen.  Wal, Stewart’s not a native Westerner, but he’s my pick of the last of the cowboys.  Sure, he’s young, but he’s the last of the old style—­the picturesque—­an’ chivalrous, too, I make bold to say, Miss Majesty, as well as the old hard-ridin’ kind.  Folks are down on Stewart.  An’ I’m only sayin’ a good word for him because he is down, an’ mebbe last night he might hev scared you, you bein’ fresh from the East.”

Madeline liked the old fellow for his loyalty to the cowboy he evidently cared for; but as there did not seem anything for her to say, she remained silent.

“Miss Majesty, the day of the cattleman is about over.  An’ the day of the cowboy, such as Gene Stewart, is over.  There’s no place for Gene.  If these weren’t modern days he’d come near bein’ a gun-man, same as we had in Texas, when I ranched there in the ’seventies.  But he can’t fit nowhere now; he can’t hold a job, an’ he’s goin’ down.”

“I am sorry to hear it,” murmured Madeline.  “But, Mr. Stillwell, aren’t these modern days out here just a little wild—­yet?  The conductor on my train told me of rebels, bandits, raiders.  Then I have had other impressions of—­well, that were wild enough for me.”

“Wal, it’s some more pleasant an’ excitin’ these days than for many years,” replied Stillwell.  “The boys hev took to packin’ guns again.  But thet’s owin’ to the revolution in Mexico.  There’s goin’ to be trouble along the border.  I reckon people in the East don’t know there is a revolution.  Wal, Madero will oust Diaz, an’ then some other rebel will oust Madero.  It means trouble on the border an’ across the border, too.  I wouldn’t wonder if Uncle Sam hed to get a hand in the game.  There’s already been holdups on the railroads an’ raids along the Rio Grande Valley.  An’ these little towns are full of Greasers, all disturbed by the fightin’ down in Mexico.  We’ve been hevin’ shootin’-scrapes an’ knifin’-scrapes, an’ some cattle-raidin’.  I hev been losin’ a few cattle right along.  Reminds me of old times; an’ pretty soon if it doesn’t stop, I’ll take the old-time way to stop it.”

“Yes, indeed, Majesty,” put in Alfred, “you have hit upon an interesting time to visit us.”

“Wal, thet sure ’pears to be so,” rejoined Stillwell.  “Stewart got in trouble down heah to-day, an’ I’m more than sorry to hev to tell you thet your name figgered in it.  But I couldn’t blame him, fer I sure would hev done the same myself.”