it was the kind of a spell he hed thet paralyzed us.  He ran past us like a streak, an’ we follered.  We couldn’t ketch him.  We heerd him laugh—­the strangest laugh I ever heerd!  You’d thought the feller was suddenly made a king.  He was like thet feller who was tied in a bunyin’-sack an’ throwed into the sea, an’ cut his way out, an’ swam to the island where the treasures was, an’ stood up yellin’, ‘The world is mine.’  Wal, when we got up to his bunk-house he was gone.  He didn’t come back all day an’ all night.  Frankie Slade, who has a sharp tongue, says Gene hed gone crazy for liquor an’ thet was his finish.  Nels was some worried.  An’ I was sick.

“Wal’ this mawnin’ I went over to Nels’s bunk.  Some of the fellers was there, all speculatin’ about Gene.  Then big as life Gene struts round the corner.  He wasn’t the same Gene.  His face was pale an’ his eyes burned like fire.  He had thet old mockin’, cool smile, an’ somethin’ besides thet I couldn’t understand.  Frankie Slade up an’ made a remark—­no wuss than he’d been makin’ fer days—­an’ Gene tumbled him out of his chair, punched him good, walked all over him.  Frankie wasn’t hurt so much as he was bewildered.  ‘Gene,’ he says, ‘what the hell struck you?’ An’ Gene says, kind of sweet like, ’Frankie, you may be a nice feller when you’re alone, but your talk’s offensive to a gentleman.’

“After thet what was said to Gene was with a nice smile.  Now, Miss Majesty, it’s beyond me what to allow for Gene’s sudden change.  First off, I thought Padre Marcos had converted him.  I actooly thought thet.  But I reckon it’s only Gene Stewart come back—­the old Gene Stewart an’ some.  Thet’s all I care about.  I’m rememberin’ how I once told you thet Gene was the last of the cowboys.  Perhaps I should hev said he’s the last of my kind of cowboys.  Wal, Miss Majesty, you’ll be apprecatin’ of what I meant from now on.”

It was also beyond Madeline to account for Gene Stewart’s antics, and, making allowance for the old cattleman’s fancy, she did not weigh his remarks very heavily.  She guessed why Stewart might have been angry at the presence of Padre Marcos.  Madeline supposed that it was rather an unusual circumstance for a cowboy to be converted to religious belief.  But it was possible.  And she knew that religious fervor often manifested itself in extremes of feeling and action.  Most likely, in Stewart’s case, his real manner had been both misunderstood and exaggerated.  However, Madeline had a curious desire, which she did not wholly admit to herself, to see the cowboy and make her own deductions.

The opportunity did not present itself for nearly two weeks.  Stewart had taken up his duties as foreman, and his activities were ceaseless.  He was absent most of the time, ranging down toward the Mexican line.  When he returned Stillwell sent for him.

This was late in the afternoon of a day in the middle of April.  Alfred and Florence were with Madeline on the porch.  They saw the cowboy turn his horse over to one of the Mexican boys at the corral and then come with weary step up to the house, beating the dust out of his gauntlets.  Little streams of gray sand trickled from his sombrero as he removed it and bowed to the women.