the northward-journeying ducks, they had tarried to stay. The
song of meadow-lark and blackbird and robin, familiar to Madeline
from childhood, mingled with the new and strange heart-throbbing
song of mocking-bird and the piercing blast of the desert eagle
and the melancholy moan of turtle-dove.

* * *

One April morning Madeline sat in her office wrestling with a
problem. She had problems to solve every day. The majority of
these were concerned with the management of twenty-seven
incomprehensible cowboys. This particular problem involved
Ambrose Mills, who had eloped with her French maid, Christine.

Stillwell faced Madeline with a smile almost as huge as his bulk.

"Wal, Miss Majesty, we ketched them; but not before Padre Marcos
had married them. All thet speedin' in the autoomoobile was jest
a-scarin' of me to death fer nothin'. I tell you Link Stevens is
crazy about runnin' thet car. Link never hed no sense even with
a hoss. He ain't afraid of the devil hisself. If my hair hedn't
been white it 'd be white now. No more rides in thet thing fer
me! Wal, we ketched Ambrose an' the girl too late. But we
fetched them back, an' they're out there now, spoonin', sure
oblivious to their shameless conduct."

"Stillwell, what shall I say to Ambrose? How shall I punish him?
He has done wrong to deceive me. I never was so surprised in my
life. Christine did not seem to care any more for Ambrose than
for any of the other cowboys. What does my authority amount to?