“Well, if I haven’t some color!” she exclaimed.

Breakfast waited for her in the dining-room.  The sisters ate with her.  Madeline quickly caught the feeling of brisk action that seemed to be in the air.  From the back of the house sounded the tramp of boots and voices of men, and from outside came a dull thump of hoofs, the rattle of harness, and creak of wheels.  Then Alfred came stamping in.

“Majesty, here’s where you get the real thing,” he announced, merrily.  “We’re rushing you off, I’m sorry to say; but we must hustle back to the ranch.  The fall round-up begins to-morrow.  You will ride in the buck-board with Florence and Stillwell.  I’ll ride on ahead with the boys and fix up a little for you at the ranch.  Your baggage will follow, but won’t get there till to-morrow sometime.  It’s a long ride out—­nearly fifty miles by wagon-road.  Flo, don’t forget a couple of robes.  Wrap her up well.  And hustle getting ready.  We’re waiting.”

A little later, when Madeline went out with Florence, the gray gloom was lightening.  Horses were champing bits and pounding gravel.

“Mawnin’, Miss Majesty,” said Stillwell, gruffly, from the front seat of a high vehicle.

Alfred bundled her up into the back seat, and Florence after her, and wrapped them with robes.  Then he mounted his horse and started off.  “Gid-eb!” growled Stillwell, and with a crack of his whip the team jumped into a trot.  Florence whispered into Madeline’s ear: 

“Bill’s grouchy early in the mawnin’.  He’ll thaw out soon as it gets warm.”

It was still so gray that Madeline could not distinguish objects at any considerable distance, and she left El Cajon without knowing what the town really looked like.  She did know that she was glad to get out of it, and found an easier task of dispelling persistent haunting memory.

“Here come the cowboys,” said Florence.

A line of horsemen appeared coming from the right and fell in behind Alfred, and gradually they drew ahead, to disappear from sight.  While Madeline watched them the gray gloom lightened into dawn.  All about her was bare and dark; the horizon seemed close; not a hill nor a tree broke the monotony.  The ground appeared to be flat, but the road went up and down over little ridges.  Madeline glanced backward in the direction of El Cajon and the mountains she had seen the day before, and she saw only bare and dark ground, like that which rolled before.

A puff of cold wind struck her face and she shivered.  Florence noticed her and pulled up the second robe and tucked it closely round her up to her chin.

“If we have a little wind you’ll sure feel it,” said the Western girl.

Madeline replied that she already felt it.  The wind appeared to penetrate the robes.  It was cold, pure, nipping.  It was so thin she had to breathe as fast as if she were under ordinary exertion.  It hurt her nose and made her lungs ache.