“Like — Lance?” repeated Madge, and all her blood seemed rushing to her head. “Ren, if Lance cannot trust you, how can I?”

  “Doesn’t make sense. But you can.”

  “I’ll trust you. Yes, I do — like Lance,” returned Madge, and to save her life she could not have made it casual. She went back to the house with the girls, playing her gay part, but there had come a complete reversal in her emotional reaction. Ren had vindicated her own deep convictions — that even if Sidway did hate her, he liked her too, against his better judgment and will, surely. Once more alone in her room she endeavored to stem this tide of overwhelming love, that was so great and so humble at the mere words of a sentimental cowboy. It frightened Madge — that flood of feeling. The sweetness of it warned her that this was not the time for surrender. But she had a tiny nucleus of hope around which to build. If she could only clasp to her breast this humble spirit! Time, days and days, would be her ally.

  * * * * *

  It was getting along into August, with touches of color beginning to show on the hills. Stewart advised Madge that if she was contemplating a camping trip up in the Peloncillos not to waste any more time. And she confided that she was pretty sure that would fall through. Snake Elwell had to return to college soon for fall practice; Allie had planned to motor east with her parents; and the rest of the party were beginning to think of the city. Nevertheless they were enthusiastic over the prospect of that horseback ride.

  It chanced that Madge’s wish to see Sidway and Starr upon their return, before any of her friends, was denied her, much to her concern. She had been alone with her mother when word came up from below that the boys were in. Madge rushed out the patio way and down the trail. A confusion of bright colors decorating Nels’ porch attested to the whereabouts of the girls, and where they were the boys would be also. It was a good long run, and Madge had to halt to catch her breath before she half crossed the square. The horses had just been unloaded from the trucks, and the packs thrown out. Ren was surrounded by her excited friends who were evidently besieging him in unison. Sidway stood a little apart, conversing with Nels and her father. The vaqueros were attending to the horses. Umpqua nickered at Madge, and she flew to stroke his dusty neck, while he nosed at her for sugar. She had never ridden him since that first day, but she had won his affection, and she felt a sense of guilt to look up and see Sidway’s piercing eyes upon her. Ragged and dark, dusty and unshaved, he appealed so powerfully to Madge that as she approached them she wondered how she could hide it.

  “Majesty, they won’t say a darn thing,” burst out Maramee, and the others chimed in with gay sallies.

  At last Madge reached them, and with a hand on Stewart’s arm, she faced Sidway, and the grinning Starr. She was keen to feel something proven in them.

  “Boys — it took you — long enough,” she panted, and smiled upon them.

  “Wal, Miss Majesty, you gave us all the time there was,” replied Ren.

  Sidway’s hazel eyes, dark and intent, appeared to pierce through Madge. Not for weeks had she met his full gaze like this, and despite the scattering of her wits, she realized the searching nature of his look, as if he were striving to divine her wishes.

  “Miss Stewart, it was well you sent us,” said Sidway, simply. “I’m sure it spared you and your friends a real ordeal!”

  A groan ran through the listening party.

  “Real ordeal! What do you mean?”

  “Too severe a physical strain for tenderfeet. A motion-picture crowd would shy at this one — and they do things.... But it can be done, Miss Stewart, and I’m bound to admit, it’d be the trip of a lifetime.”

  “You don’t advise it?”

  “I do not.”

  “Would you take the responsibility if I insisted?” asked Madge.

  “Yes, if your father insisted, too.”

  “Dad, are you with me?”

  “Daughter, this issue is between you and Sidway. He has not told me a thing. My advice is to listen before you make up your mind. You know how you are, Madge.”

  Madge transfixed Sidway with a troubled passionate gaze. She did not want to undertake this trip. She rejoiced that Sidway was making it impossible. But there was something about him that dared her to see if she could prevail upon him. She realized that until she could conquer such weakness, she would never be at her best with him.

  “Lance, you’re on the spot,” she said.

  “Heavens, when haven’t I been?” he ejaculated, and joined Stewart in a laugh. Their understanding and good feeling seemed manifest. Then he bent a glance upon Madge, so clear, so frank, yet so supremely doubtful of her, that she writhed inwardly under it. She divined a thrust aimed at what must be his conviction of a vulnerable point in her which she had no idea she possessed.

  “Shoot!” she said, with all her disdain, but she felt dismay before she had been attacked. This cowboy must know something about her, to her discredit, or he could not have affected her that way.

  “It may seem superfluous — to you,” he said, coolly. “But have you considered the expense?”

  “Expense!” echoed Madge. That was the last question she would have expected.

  “Yes. Perhaps you have not thought of that.”

  “I had not. Usually I don’t consider what my plans cost.”

  “Exactly. That is why I presume to mention it.... This trip would cost a great deal. A gang of laborers would be needed on the trail. Two weeks’ work at least. The cabin up at Cochise’s stronghold has gone to rack and ruin. It would have to be repaired. There are no tents and tarpaulins at the ranch, nor cooking utensils. You would require a complete new camping equipment. We have packsaddles for only a few horses; and, well, would you expect to have this camp on the scale on which you do everything?”

  “I’m afraid I would.”

  “Of course. Then it would be necessary to buy twenty new packsaddles and at least ten pack animals. That would entail hiring half a dozen extra riders.... So you see, Miss Stewart, it is quite a big undertaking.”

  “I see all right,” replied Madge, dubiously. To the credit of her friends, they at once turned thumbs down upon the whole proposition, and were so nice and fine about it that Madge regretted her subterfuge. But what was Lance Sidway aiming at? She believed his report implicitly. A half or a quarter of these obstacles would have sufficed. He believed that no matter how unfavorable his report or how exorbitantly the trip would cost, she would decide to go willy-nilly. Then he believed other things that mystified Madge. For an instant she had a bothersome thought that he might feel contempt for her because expense had never meant anything to her. A rebellious impulse to do the very thing he expected died in its infancy, somehow hastened to its death by the singular, almost mocking light in Sidway’s hazel eyes. In a flash she saw how she could amaze and undeceive him.

  “Thank you, Sidway. I’ll abandon the camping trip solely upon your report,” she said. “You have been very conscientious and dependable. I appreciate it.”

  If Lance’s scarcely veiled surprise proved Madge’s intuition close to correct, his relief and gladness, that warmed out the coldness of his face, augmented the thought-provoking power of that moment. Madge conceived, too, an impression that Sidway’s feelings were reflected in her father’s dark face. Could these two possibly have an understanding? Madge drove the perplexing thought away.

  “Friends, it’s off, our mad ride up into the wilds,” declared Madge. “Some other summer! Instead I’ll throw the biggest party ever.”

  Pandemonium broke out among the boys and girls. When they ceased mobbing Madge she suddenly found Sidway towering over her, a stranger to whom her whole being seemed to leap.

  “Thank heaven, I won’t have to make a report on that,” he cried. “But, come here!” And seizing her hand he led her aside. “You don’t know what I thought and I’ll never tell you. Only I’m begging you to forgive me. You are one swell sport! You’re a thoroughbred! It’s no wonder...”

  He broke off and squeezed her hand and strode away toward the bunkhouses. Madge stood a second, aware of the cramped fingers she could hardly straighten, and wondering what were the words he had left unsaid. It was not her fault if he had not had a glimpse of all her sides. Madge went back to her father.

  “Dad, have you and Lance framed me?” she asked.

  “My dear, I’ve had no part in this — this, whatever you’d call it,” he laughed. “Honest, Madge. It looked as if I might have been in cahoots with Lance to queer your trip. But he never told me a thing. Nor did Ren. I think he carried it off very well indeed. Your mother will be pleased.”

  “Yeah? — What’s this Machiavelli mean by pleasing you and Mom? Looks like deep stuff to me.”

  “Madge, he’s just a nice boy, who disapproves of you a lot.”

  “Dad, he said some strange things, for him. Nearly crushed my poor hand. Look! Then he beat it. He ran off before I could even answer.”

  “Lass, if this Machiavelli and your dad, or better, old Nels, could get you locked in a room and starved or beaten or loved into listening for some hours, you’d come through like your mother did when she decided some momentous questions twenty-five years and more ago.”

  “Dad! — Starved or beaten or.... You are as mysterious as he!” And Madge judged that the better part of valor would be to flee. But not until she had plunged deeply into plans for her party did she recover from the confusing thoughts resulting from that surprising contact with the cowboy and her father.

  Madge set the date for the party. Invitations were sent to all the range people her father knew from Douglas to Bolton. All the vaqueros and señoritas known to Bonita and her brothers were invited. It took a whole day to put up the decorations. That night when Madge tried out the colored lights and lanterns the glamorous effect transported even her. Next morning the caterer rolled in with his trucks and minions, and Majesty’s Rancho hummed like a beehive. Last to arrive were the sixteen musicians. That was early in the afternoon. Madge went to bed to rest, but she could not sleep. The girls could not even rest. They were in and out all afternoon, and finally when Madge asked Allie to get out a new gown none of them had ever seen, and which she had reserved for this occasion, there ensued a perfectly rapt silence. Bu Allen, of course, broke it. “My Gawd!” she gasped in uncontrollable excitement. “Majesty, you must be married in that!”

  “Bu, a girl has to have something beside a gown to get married.”

  “Not that one. You don’t even need a slip.”

  And so mad were they all that only Madge noted the omission of a man. The thing struck a fatalistic chord in her. She had everything — wonderful parents, lovely friends, wealth, education, ranch, horses, cars, all to make any girl happy — except a man to marry.

  But that was the last thing in the world to occupy her mind now. Anyway it was a calamity she could remedy this very night, provided she beat down her obsession for one unappreciative, unresponsive cowboy. Still it had been ingrained in Madge’s girlish dreams that no one save a cowboy like her father could ever have her.

  Toward the end of that long day Madge slept, and was awakened by Allie and Maramee. They informed her that the lights were lit, the many tables set, and guests were arriving. Madge sent them off to dress and flew to her bath. She was in the midst of her make-up task when they returned, formal and elegant, to draw encomiums from Madge.

  “Girls, we’ll knock ’em for a loop tonight,” said Madge, gleefully.

  “We?” chirped Maramee.

  “Yes, us,” declared Madge.

  “Darling, I think you mean him,” retorted Allie.

  They brushed her hair until it sparkled with glints of fire, and then by some magic of deft feminine hands they encased her in the blue and gold gown. For jewels Madge wore a string of pearls, the gift of her Aunt Helen, so beautiful and valuable that she had not risked it out of the safe for years. Allie was silent, gazing raptly at her, but Maramee raved on and on.

  “Once in my life!” was all Madge whispered to the image shining from her long mirror, and either she meant that she was satisfied or that she would play that beauty to the limit. Madge went to her mother’s room, to be admitted. Her father was there, lean and dark and handsome in his black suit.

  “Oh, Mom, but you are a lady of quality!” cried Madge, a rush of warm sweetness piercing her trance. “Dad, isn’t she just stunning?”

  Both her father and mother appeared incapable of speech on the moment, but their eyes would have gratified a far vainer girl than Madge. “I wanted you to see me first.” And she whirled for their benefit. “Now, darlings, this is my party. I’ve had it coming to my crowd for a year. Unknown to them it is my farewell to them — to college — to that kind of life. Whatever we do, don’t be shocked.”

  And she ran out, through the living room, into the corridor where she encountered Sidway. In his dark garb he looked so slim and different that she did not recognize him at first glance.

  “Oh! — how stupid of me! It’s Lance.” And she halted under the colored lights.

  He started and backed partly against the balustrade, while a dazed and frowning expression altered his face. Then it vanished as he leaped erect, to utter a queer little laugh and make her a profound bow.

  “Lance. Do you — like me?” she queried softly.

  “Majesty, I used to believe you were a mistake of evolution, but now I know it was God.”

  “Is that a compliment or a slam?”

  “Pardon me. I’m in urgent search of your father. I just found out that the balance of his cattle herd were just rustled. And I’m going to find out who stole them and where they were driven.”

  “Oh, Lance, how dreadful. But must you tell him tonight?” wailed Madge.

  “Come to think of it, no,” he returned, brightly. “I haven’t even told Ren. Poor kid! It’s going tough with him. Love is a terrible thing!”

  “It is indeed,” agreed Madge, fervently. “But you have merely heard or read about that.”

  She left him, sailing with a swish down the corridor to her room. She had no time to deduce sense from Lance Sidway’s queer remarks, and she was glad of it. If she spent ten minutes with that cowboy there would be no triumph for her tonight. What a devastating effect he exercised over her! Some of the girls were in her rooms and the others soon paraded in. Every last one of them had on a new gown! And had they planned for this pièce de résistance of Madge’s? They were interrupted by the caterer, a handsome Italian in immaculate white. Madge admitted him and drove out the girls. “Find the boys. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  “I hope you please,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

  “Corvalo, I’m bound to be. Remember, serve champagne to my party in the living room. Wine to the other tables. As for the punch, it must have an awful wallop. But not an immediate kick. Use creme de menthe to flavor only — to make them like it — leading them on. A soft sweet tasty punch — flowers and music leading to a precipice. Get me, Corvalo?”

  He departed with shining eyes and beaming face, as if that order had been one to his liking. Madge went in search of her friends. They had rounded up the boys, who looked cool and natty in white flannels. Their various comments were incense to Madge’s heart. Rollie Stevens said: “Murder in the Rue Rancho this night!”

  “Come, let’s make the rounds,” said Madge. “At least I can speak to all these strangers.”

  “Lamping you will be enough,” declared Barg.

  Madge found it easier to be courteous and friendly than she had anticipated. The delight of the Mexicans especially pleased her. There were ranch people she remembered, and apparently all the cowboys on the range.

  “Pack of wolves!” averred Rollie. “They’d eat you alive. Good thing you’re under my wing.”

  “Are you sure you can be trusted to think of me?”

  The long patio made a colorful and beautiful spectacle. A row of tables extended down the center. Benches and chairs lined the walls. The waxed floors, built in for the occasion, shone iridescently. Colorful lanterns hung from the center of the arches. The gorgeous Spanish and Indian decorations lent a richness and legend to the old rancho. Madge slipped a hand over her heart to still its beating, its muffled pain. What was this pang stealing into her happiness?

  Moments for pondering had passed by. The great dinner gong pealed through the corridors and the patio, and was followed by a merry hum. Then the orchestra upon which Madge put such store pealed its exotic music through the house. It heralded the Spanish fiesta that was to last until dawn.

  Madge, with her college guests, and her father and mother, sat down to dinner in the living room. That table from its hothouse orchids, its silver plate and crystal, to the rare and savory dishes of the sumptuous dinner, excelled anything the ranch had ever known.

  Stewart appeared to be staggered with its magnificence. But as the dinner wore on he fell under the spell of his wife’s pleasure and Madge’s rapture, and the continuous merriment and wit of the college crowd. Snake Elwell and Bu Allen were the first couple to begin dancing. Bu looked ravishing in a white gown that threatened to split at every move. Allie, usually the sweetest of girls who never made a criticism or caustic comment, spoke right out: “Some hot little cookie!” And Madge’s father, who heard it, surrendered unconditionally to this group of young moderns.

  Madge’s keen eyes did not miss anything. Once she saw Sidway and Starr, flushed of face and fire-eyed, peep into the living room. She also observed that her father did not drink his champagne. With dinner at an end, the dancing set in continuously, with only short intermissions. Madge loved to dance, and the first hour passed by on wings. When her crowd happened to congregate, someone remembered the punch, whereupon they flocked to the living room. The long table had been cleared, and moved back to the wall. In the center an enormous bowl of silver and crystal shone resplendent, full of a twinkling liquid that had life and color. An attendant stood ready to serve. Curious and gleeful, Madge drained her cup, tasted and wondered, and listened for comments. She alone knew that innocent-looking punch was loaded with dynamite.