The Light of the Western Stars

by Zane Grey

  XIII. Cowboy Golf

  In the whirl of the succeeding days it was a mooted question whetherMadeline's guests or her cowboys or herself got the keenest enjoymentout of the flying time. Considering the sameness of the cowboys'ordinary life, she was inclined to think they made the most of thepresent. Stillwell and Stewart, however, had found the situation trying.The work of the ranch had to go on, and some of it got sadly neglected.Stillwell could not resist the ladies any more than he could resist thefun in the extraordinary goings-on of the cowboys. Stewart alone keptthe business of cattle-raising from a serious setback. Early and latehe was in the saddle, driving the lazy Mexicans whom he had hired torelieve the cowboys.

  One morning in June Madeline was sitting on the porch with her merryfriends when Stillwell appeared on the corral path. He had not cometo consult Madeline for several days--an omission so unusual as to beremarked.

  "Here comes Bill--in trouble," laughed Florence.

  Indeed, he bore some faint resemblance to a thundercloud as heapproached the porch; but the greetings he got from Madeline's party,especially from Helen and Dorothy, chased away the blackness from hisface and brought the wonderful wrinkling smile.

  "Miss Majesty, sure I'm a sad demoralized old cattleman," he said,presently. "An' I'm in need of a heap of help."

  "What's wrong now?" asked Madeline, with her encouraging smile.

  "Wal, it's so amazin' strange what cowboys will do. I jest am about togive up. Why, you might say my cowboys were all on strike for vacations.What do you think of that? We've changed the shifts, shortened hours,let one an' another off duty, hired Greasers, an', in fact, doneeverythin' that could be thought of. But this vacation idee growedworse. When Stewart set his foot down, then the boys begin to get sick.Never in my born days as a cattleman have I heerd of so many diseases.An' you ought to see how lame an' crippled an' weak many of the boyshave got all of a sudden. The idee of a cowboy comin' to me with asore finger an' askin' to be let off for a day! There's Booly. Now I'veknowed a hoss to fall all over him, an' onct he rolled down a canyon.Never bothered him at all. He's got a blister on his heel, a ridin'blister, an' he says it's goin' to blood-poisonin' if he doesn't rest.There's Jim Bell. He's developed what he says is spinal mengalootis,or some such like. There's Frankie Slade. He swore he had scarlet feverbecause his face burnt so red, I guess, an' when I hollered that scarletfever was contagious an' he must be put away somewhere, he up an' sayshe guessed it wasn't that. But he was sure awful sick an' needed to loafaround an' be amused. Why, even Nels doesn't want to work these days. Ifit wasn't for Stewart, who's had Greasers with the cattle, I don't knowwhat I'd do."

  "Why all this sudden illness and idleness?" asked Madeline.

  "Wal, you see, the truth is every blamed cowboy on the range exceptStewart thinks it's his bounden duty to entertain the ladies."

  "I think that is just fine!" exclaimed Dorothy Coombs; and she joined inthe general laugh.

  "Stewart, then, doesn't care to help entertain us?" inquired Helen, incurious interest. "Wal, Miss Helen, Stewart is sure different from theother cowboys," replied Stillwell. "Yet he used to be like them. Therenever was a cowboy fuller of the devil than Gene. But he's changed. He'sforeman here, an' that must be it. All the responsibility rests on him.He sure has no time for amusin' the ladies."

  "I imagine that is our loss," said Edith Wayne, in her earnest way. "Iadmire him."

  "Stillwell, you need not be so distressed with what is only gallantry inthe boys, even if it does make a temporary confusion in the work," saidMadeline.

  "Miss Majesty, all I said is not the half, nor the quarter, nor nuthin'of what's troublin' me," answered he, sadly.

  "Very well; unburden yourself."

  "Wal, the cowboys, exceptin' Gene, have gone plumb batty, jest plaincrazy over this heah game of gol-lof."

  A merry peal of mirth greeted Stillwell's solemn assertion.

  "Oh, Stillwell, you are in fun," replied Madeline.

  "I hope to die if I'm not in daid earnest," declared the cattleman."It's an amazin' strange fact. Ask Flo. She'll tell you. She knowscowboys, an' how if they ever start on somethin' they ride it as theyride a hoss."

  Florence being appealed to, and evidently feeling all eyes upon her,modestly replied that Stillwell had scarcely misstated the situation.

  "Cowboys play like they work or fight," she added. "They give theirwhole souls to it. They are great big simple boys."

  "Indeed they are," said Madeline. "Oh, I'm glad if they like the game ofgolf. They have so little play."

  "Wal, somethin's got to be did if we're to go on raisin' cattle at HerMajesty's Rancho," replied Stillwell. He appeared both deliberate andresigned.

  Madeline remembered that despite Stillwell's simplicity he was as deepas any of his cowboys, and there was absolutely no gaging him wherepossibilities of fun were concerned. Madeline fancied that hisexaggerated talk about the cowboys' sudden craze for golf was in linewith certain other remarkable tales that had lately emanated from him.Some very strange things had occurred of late, and it was impossible totell whether or not they were accidents, mere coincidents, or deep-laid,skilfully worked-out designs of the fun-loving cowboys. Certainly therehad been great fun, and at the expense of her guests, particularlyCastleton. So Madeline was at a loss to know what to think aboutStillwell's latest elaboration. From mere force of habit she sympathizedwith him and found difficulty in doubting his apparent sincerity.

  "To go back a ways," went on Stillwell, as Madeline looked upexpectantly, "you recollect what pride the boys took in fixin' up thatgol-lof course out on the mesa? Wal, they worked on that job, an' thoughI never seen any other course, I'll gamble yours can't be beat. The boyswas sure curious about that game. You recollect also how they all wantedto see you an' your brother play, an' be caddies for you? Wal, wheneveryou'd quit they'd go to work tryin' to play the game. Monty Price, hewas the leadin' spirit. Old as I am, Miss Majesty, an' used as I am tocowboy excentrikities, I nearly dropped daid when I heered that littlehobble-footed, burned-up Montana cow-puncher say there wasn't anygame too swell for him, an' gol-lof was just his speed. Serious as apreacher, mind you, he was. An' he was always practisin'. When Stewartgave him charge of the course an' the club-house an' all them funnysticks, why, Monty was tickled to death. You see, Monty is sensitivethat he ain't much good any more for cowboy work. He was glad to have ajob that he didn't feel he was hangin' to by kindness. Wal, he practisedthe game, an' he read the books in the club-house, an' he got the boysto doin' the same. That wasn't very hard, I reckon. They played earlyan' late an' in the moonlight. For a while Monty was coach, an' the boysstood it. But pretty soon Frankie Slade got puffed on his game, an' hehad to have it out with Monty. Wal, Monty beat him bad. Then one afteranother the other boys tackled Monty. He beat them all. After that theysplit up an' begin to play matches, two on a side. For a spell thisworked fine. But cowboys can't never be satisfied long onless they winall the time. Monty an' Link Stevens, both cripples, you might say,joined forces an' elected to beat all comers. Wal, they did, an' that'sthe trouble. Long an' patient the other cowboys tried to beat them twogame legs, an' hevn't done it. Mebbe if Monty an' Link was perfectlysound in their legs like the other cowboys there wouldn't hev been sucha holler. But no sound cowboys'll ever stand for a disgrace like that.Why, down at the bunks in the evenin's it's some mortifyin' the wayMonty an' Link crow over the rest of the outfit. They've taken onsuperior airs. You couldn't reach up to Monty with a trimmed sprucepole. An' Link--wal, he's just amazin' scornful.

  "'It's a swell game, ain't it?' says Link, powerful sarcastic. 'Wal,what's hurtin' you low-down common cowmen? You keep harpin' on Monty'sgame leg an' on my game leg. If we hed good legs we'd beat you all thewuss. It's brains that wins in gol-lof. Brains an' airstoocratik blood,which of the same you fellers sure hev little.'

  "An' then Monty he blows smoke powerful careless an' superior, an' hesays:

  "'Sure it's a swell game. You cow-headed gents think beef an' brawno
ught to hev the call over skill an' gray matter. You'll all hev to backup an' get down. Go out an' learn the game. You don't know a baffy froma Chinee sandwich. All you can do is waggle with a club an' fozzle theball.'

  "Whenever Monty gets to usin' them queer names the boys go round kind ofdotty. Monty an' Link hev got the books an' directions of the game, an'they won't let the other boys see them. They show the rules, butthat's all. An', of course, every game ends in a row almost before it'sstarted. The boys are all turrible in earnest about this gol-lof. An' Iwant to say, for the good of ranchin', not to mention a possible fight,that Monty an' Link hev got to be beat. There'll be no peace round thisranch till that's done."

  Madeline's guests were much amused. As for herself, in spite of herscarcely considered doubt, Stillwell's tale of woe occasioned heranxiety. However, she could hardly control her mirth.

  "What in the world can I do?"

  "Wal, I reckon I couldn't say. I only come to you for advice. It seemsthat a queer kind of game has locoed my cowboys, an' for the time bein'ranchin' is at a standstill. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but cowboys areas strange as wild cattle. All I'm sure of is that the conceit has gotto be taken out of Monty an' Link. Onct, just onct, will square it, an'then we can resoome our work."

  "Stillwell, listen," said Madeline, brightly. "We'll arrange a matchgame, a foursome, between Monty and Link and your best picked team.Castleton, who is an expert golfer, will umpire. My sister, and friends,and I will take turns as caddies for your team. That will be fair,considering yours is the weaker. Caddies may coach, and perhaps expertadvice is all that is necessary for your team to defeat Monty's."

  "A grand idee," declared Stillwell, with instant decision. "When can wehave this match game?"

  "Why, to-day--this afternoon. We'll all ride out to the links."

  "Wal, I reckon I'll be some indebted to you, Miss Majesty, an' all yourguests," replied Stillwell, warmly. He rose with sombrero in hand, and atwinkle in his eye that again prompted Madeline to wonder. "An' now I'llbe goin' to fix up for the game of cowboy gol-lof. Adios."

  The idea was as enthusiastically received by Madeline's guests as it hadbeen by Stillwell. They were highly amused and speculative to thepoint of taking sides and making wagers on their choice. Moreover, thissituation so frankly revealed by Stillwell had completed their deepmystification. They were now absolutely nonplussed by the singularcharacter of American cowboys. Madeline was pleased to note howseriously they had taken the old cattleman's story. She had a littlethrob of wild expectancy that made her both fear and delight in theafternoon's prospect.

  The June days had set in warm; in fact, hot during the noon hours: andthis had inculcated in her insatiable visitors a tendency to profitby the experience of those used to the Southwest. They indulged in therestful siesta during the heated term of the day.

  Madeline was awakened by Majesty's well-known whistle and pounding onthe gravel. Then she heard the other horses. When she went out she foundher party assembled in gala golf attire, and with spirits to match theircostumes. Castleton, especially, appeared resplendent in a golf coatthat beggared description. Madeline had faint misgivings when shereflected on what Monty and Nels and Nick might do under the influenceof that blazing garment.

  "Oh. Majesty," cried Helen, as Madeline went up to her horse, "don'tmake him kneel! Try that flying mount. We all want to see it. It's sostunning."

  "But that way, too, I must have him kneel," said Madeline, "or I can'treach the stirrup. He's so tremendously high."

  Madeline had to yield to the laughing insistence of her friends, andafter all of them except Florence were up she made Majesty go down onone knee. Then she stood on his left side, facing back, and took a goodfirm grip on the bridle and pommel and his mane. After she had slippedthe toe of her boot firmly into the stirrup she called to Majesty. Hejumped and swung her up into the saddle.

  "Now just to see how it ought to be done watch Florence," said Madeline.

  The Western girl was at her best in riding-habit and with her horse. Itwas beautiful to see the ease and grace with which she accomplished thecowboys' flying mount. Then she led the party down the slope and acrossthe flat to climb the mesa.

  Madeline never saw a group of her cowboys without looking them over,almost unconsciously, for her foreman, Gene Stewart. This afternoon, asusual, he was not present. However, she now had a sense--of which shewas wholly conscious--that she was both disappointed and irritated. Hehad really not been attentive to her guests, and he, of all hercowboys, was the one of whom they wanted most to see something. Helen,particularly, had asked to have him attend the match. But Stewart waswith the cattle. Madeline thought of his faithfulness, and was ashamedof her momentary lapse into that old imperious habit of desiring thingsirrespective of reason.

  Stewart, however, immediately slipped out of her mind as she surveyedthe group of cowboys on the links. By actual count there were sixteen,not including Stillwell. And the same number of splendid horses, allshiny and clean, grazed on the rim in the care of Mexican lads. Thecowboys were on dress-parade, looking very different in Madeline's eyes,at least, from the way cowboys usually appeared. But they were real andnatural to her guests; and they were so picturesque that they might havebeen stage cowboys instead of real ones. Sombreros with silverbuckles and horsehair bands were in evidence; and bright silk scarfs,embroidered vests, fringed and ornamented chaps, huge swinging guns, andclinking silver spurs lent a festive appearance.

  Madeline and her party were at once eagerly surrounded by the cowboys,and she found it difficult to repress a smile. If these cowboys werestill remarkable to her, what must they be to her guests?

  "Wal, you-all raced over, I seen," said Stillwell, taking Madeline'sbridle. "Get down--get down. We're sure amazin' glad an' proud. An',Miss Majesty, I'm offerin' to beg pawdin for the way the boys arepackin' guns. Mebbe it ain't polite. But it's Stewart's orders."

  "Stewart's orders!" echoed Madeline. Her friends were suddenly silent.

  "I reckon he won't take no chances on the boys bein' surprised suddenby raiders. An' there's raiders operatin' in from the Guadalupes. That'sall. Nothin' to worry over. I was just explainin'."

  Madeline, with several of her party, expressed relief, but Helen showedexcitement and then disappointment.

  "Oh, I want something to happen!" she cried.

  Sixteen pairs of keen cowboy eyes fastened intently upon her pretty,petulant face; and Madeline divined, if Helen did not, that the desiredconsummation was not far off.

  "So do I," said Dot Coombs. "It would be perfectly lovely to have a realadventure."

  The gaze of the sixteen cowboys shifted and sought the demure face ofthis other discontented girl. Madeline laughed, and Stillwell wore hisstrange, moving smile.

  "Wal, I reckon you ladies sure won't have to go home unhappy," he said."Why, as boss of this heah outfit I'd feel myself disgraced forever ifyou didn't have your wish. Just wait. An' now, ladies, the matter onhand may not be amusin' or excitin' to you; but to this heah cowboyoutfit it's powerful important. An' all the help you can give us willsure be thankfully received. Take a look across the links. Do you-allsee them two apologies for human bein's prancin' like a couple ofhobbled broncs? Wal, you're gazin' at Monty Price an' Link Stevens,who have of a sudden got too swell to associate with their old bunkies.They're practisin' for the toornament. They don't want my boys to seehow they handle them crooked clubs."

  "Have you picked your team?" inquired Madeline.

  Stillwell mopped his red face with an immense bandana, and showedsomething of confusion and perplexity.

  "I've sixteen boys, an' they all want to play," he replied. "Pickin' theteam ain't goin' to be an easy job. Mebbe it won't be healthy, either.There's Nels and Nick. They just stated cheerful-like that if theydidn't play we won't have any game at all. Nick never tried before, an'Nels, all he wants is to get a crack at Monty with one of them crookedclubs."

  "I suggest you let all your boys drive from the tee and choose the twowho drive
the farthest," said Madeline.

  Stillwell's perplexed face lighted up.

  "Wal, that's a plumb good idee. The boys'll stand for that."

  Wherewith he broke up the admiring circle of cowboys round the ladies.

  "Grap a rope--I mean a club--all you cow-punchers, an' march over hyaran' take a swipe at this little white bean."

  The cowboys obeyed with alacrity. There was considerable difficulty overthe choice of clubs and who should try first. The latter question hadto be adjusted by lot. However, after Frankie Slade made severalineffectual attempts to hit the ball from the teeing-ground, at last tosend it only a few yards, the other players were not so eager to follow.Stillwell had to push Booly forward, and Booly executed a most miserableshot and retired to the laughing comments of his comrades. The effortsof several succeeding cowboys attested to the extreme difficulty ofmaking a good drive.

  "Wal, Nick, it's your turn," said Stillwell.

  "Bill, I ain't so all-fired particular about playin'," replied Nick.

  "Why? You was roarin' about it a little while ago. Afraid to show howbad you'll play?"

  "Nope, jest plain consideration for my feller cow-punchers," answeredNick, with spirit. "I'm appreciatin' how bad they play, an' I'm not meanenough to show them up."

  "Wal, you've got to show me," said Stillwell. "I know you never seena gol-lof stick in your life. What's more, I'll bet you can't hit thatlittle ball square--not in a dozen cracks at it."

  "Bill, I'm also too much of a gent to take your money. But you know I'mfrom Missouri. Gimme a club."

  Nick's angry confidence seemed to evaporate as one after another he tookup and handled the clubs. It was plain that he had never before wieldedone. But, also, it was plain that he was not the kind of a man to givein. Finally he selected a driver, looked doubtfully at the small knob,and then stepped into position on the teeing-ground.

  Nick Steele stood six feet four inches in height. He had the rider'swiry slenderness, yet he was broad of shoulder. His arms were long.Manifestly he was an exceedingly powerful man. He swung the driveraloft and whirled it down with a tremendous swing. Crack! The white balldisappeared, and from where it had been rose a tiny cloud of dust.

  Madeline's quick sight caught the ball as it lined somewhat to theright. It was shooting low and level with the speed of a bullet. It wentup and up in swift, beautiful flight, then lost its speed and began tosail, to curve, to drop; and it fell out of sight beyond the rim of themesa. Madeline had never seen a drive that approached this one. It wasmagnificent, beyond belief except for actual evidence of her own eyes.

  The yelling of the cowboys probably brought Nick Steele out of theastounding spell with which he beheld his shot. Then Nick, suddenlyalive to the situation, recovered from his trance and, restingnonchalantly upon his club, he surveyed Stillwell and the boys. Aftertheir first surprised outburst they were dumb.

  "You-all seen thet?" Nick grandly waved his hand. "Thaught I wasjoshin', didn't you? Why, I used to go to St. Louis an' Kansas City toplay this here game. There was some talk of the golf clubs takin' medown East to play the champions. But I never cared fer the game. Tooeasy fer me! Them fellers back in Missouri were a lot of cheap dubs,anyhow, always kickin' because whenever I hit a ball hard I always lostit. Why, I hed to hit sort of left-handed to let 'em stay in my class.Now you-all can go ahead an' play Monty an' Link. I could beat 'em both,playin' with one hand, if I wanted to. But I ain't interested. I jesthit thet ball off the mesa to show you. I sure wouldn't be seen playin'on your team."

  With that Nick sauntered away toward the horses. Stillwell appearedcrushed. And not a scornful word was hurled after Nick, which factproved the nature of his victory. Then Nels strode into the limelight.As far as it was possible for this iron-faced cowboy to be so, he wasbland and suave. He remarked to Stillwell and the other cowboys thatsometimes it was painful for them to judge of the gifts of superiorcowboys such as belonged to Nick and himself. He picked up the clubNick had used and called for a new ball. Stillwell carefully built upa little mound of sand and, placing the ball upon it, squared away towatch. He looked grim and expectant.

  Nels was not so large a man as Nick, and did not look so formidableas he waved his club at the gaping cowboys. Still he was lithe,tough, strong. Briskly, with a debonair manner, he stepped up and thendelivered a mighty swing at the ball. He missed. The power and momentumof his swing flung him off his feet, and he actually turned upside downand spun round on his head. The cowboys howled. Stillwell's stentorianlaugh rolled across the mesa. Madeline and her guests found itimpossible to restrain their mirth. And when Nels got up he cast areproachful glance at Madeline. His feelings were hurt.

  His second attempt, not by any means so violent, resulted in as clean amiss as the first, and brought jeers from the cowboys. Nels's red faceflamed redder. Angrily he swung again. The mound of sand spread over theteeing-ground and the exasperating little ball rolled a few inches. Thistime he had to build up the sand mound and replace the ball himself.Stillwell stood scornfully by, and the boys addressed remarks to Nels.

  "Take off them blinders," said one.

  "Nels, your eyes are shore bad," said another.

  "You don't hit where you look."

  "Nels, your left eye has sprung a limp."

  "Why, you dog-goned old fule, you cain't hit thet bawl."

  Nels essayed again, only to meet ignominious failure. Then carefullyhe gathered himself together, gaged distance, balanced the club, swungcautiously. And the head of the club made a beautiful curve round theball.

  "Shore it's jest thet crooked club," he declared.

  He changed clubs and made another signal failure. Rage suddenlypossessing him, he began to swing wildly. Always, it appeared, theillusive little ball was not where he aimed. Stillwell hunched his hugebulk, leaned hands on knees, and roared his riotous mirth. The cowboysleaped up and down in glee.

  "You cain't hit thet bawl," sang out one of the noisiest. A few morewhirling, desperate lunges on the part of Nels, all as futile as ifthe ball had been thin air, finally brought to the dogged cowboy arealization that golf was beyond him.

  Stillwell bawled: "Oh, haw, haw, haw! Nels, you're--too old--eyes nogood!"

  Nels slammed down the club, and when he straightened up with the redleaving his face, then the real pride and fire of the man showed.Deliberately he stepped off ten paces and turned toward the little moundupon which rested the ball. His arm shot down, elbow crooked, hand likea claw.

  "Aw, Nels, this is fun!" yelled Stillwell.

  But swift as a gleam of light Nels flashed his gun, and the report camewith the action. Chips flew from the golf-ball as it tumbled from themound. Nels had hit it without raising the dust. Then he dropped thegun back in its sheath and faced the cowboys.

  "Mebbe my eyes ain't so orful bad," he said, coolly, and started to walkoff.

  "But look ah-heah, Nels," yelled Stillwell, "we come out to playgol-lof! We can't let you knock the ball around with your gun. What'dyou want to get mad for? It's only fun. Now you an' Nick hang roundheah an' be sociable. We ain't depreciatin' your company none, nor yourusefulness on occasions. An' if you just hain't got inborn politenesssufficient to do the gallant before the ladies, why, remember Stewart'sorders."

  "Stewart's orders?" queried Nels, coming to a sudden halt.

  "That's what I said," replied Stillwell, with asperity. "His orders.Are you forgettin' orders? Wal, you're a fine cowboy. You an' Nick an'Monty, 'specially, are to obey orders."

  Nels took off his sombrero and scratched his head. "Bill, I reckon I'msome forgetful. But I was mad. I'd 'a' remembered pretty soon, an' mebbemy manners."

  "Sure you would," replied Stillwell. "Wal, now, we don't seem to beproceedin' much with my gol-lof team. Next ambitious player step up."

  In Ambrose, who showed some skill in driving, Stillwell found one ofhis team. The succeeding players, however, were so poor and so evenlymatched that the earnest Stillwell was in despair. He lost his temperjust as speedily as Nels
had. Finally Ed Linton's wife appeared ridingup with Ambrose's wife, and perhaps this helped, for Ed suddenlydisclosed ability that made Stillwell single him out.

  "Let me coach you a little," said Bill.

  "Sure, if you like," replied Ed. "But I know more about this game thanyou do."

  "Wal, then, let's see you hit a ball straight. Seems to me you gotgood all-fired quick. It's amazin' strange." ere Bill looked around todiscover the two young wives modestly casting eyes of admiration upontheir husbands. "Haw, haw! It ain't so darned strange. Mebbe that'llhelp some. Now, Ed, stand up and don't sling your club as if you wasropin' a steer. Come round easy-like an' hit straight."

  Ed made several attempts which, although better than those of hispredecessors, were rather discouraging to the exacting coach. Presently,after a particularly atrocious shot, Stillwell strode in distress hereand there, and finally stopped a dozen paces or more in front of theteeing-ground. Ed, who for a cowboy was somewhat phlegmatic, calmly madeready for another attempt.

  "Fore!" he called.

  Stillwell stared.

  "Fore!" yelled Ed.

  "Why're you hollerin' that way at me?" demanded Bill.

  "I mean for you to lope off the horizon. Get back from in front."

  "Oh, that was one of them durned crazy words Monty is always hollerin'.Wal, I reckon I'm safe enough hyar. You couldn't hit me in a millionyears."

  "Bill, ooze away," urged Ed.

  "Didn't I say you couldn't hit me? What am I coachin' you for? It'sbecause you hit crooked, ain't it? Wal, go ahaid an' break your back."

  Ed Linton was a short, heavy man, and his stocky build gave evidenceof considerable strength. His former strokes had not been made at theexpense of exertion, but now he got ready for a supreme effort. A suddensilence clamped down upon the exuberant cowboys. It was one of thosefateful moments when the air was charged with disaster. As Ed swung theclub it fairly whistled.

  Crack! Instantly came a thump. But no one saw the ball until it droppedfrom Stillwell's shrinking body. His big hands went spasmodically to theplace that hurt, and a terrible groan rumbled from him.

  Then the cowboys broke into a frenzy of mirth that seemed to findadequate expression only in dancing and rolling accompaniment to theirhowls. Stillwell recovered his dignity as soon as he caught his breath,and he advanced with a rueful face.

  "Wal, boys, it's on Bill," he said. "I'm a livin' proof of thepig-headedness of mankind. Ed, you win. You're captain of the team. Youhit straight, an' if I hadn't been obstructin' the general atmospherethat ball would sure have gone clear to the Chiricahuas."

  Then making a megaphone of his huge hands, he yelled a loud blast ofdefiance at Monty and Link.

  "Hey, you swell gol-lofers! We're waitin'. Come on if you ain't scared."

  Instantly Monty and Link quit practising, and like two emperors camestalking across the links.

  "Guess my bluff didn't work much," said Stillwell. Then he turned toMadeline and her friends. "Sure I hope, Miss Majesty, that you-all won'tweaken an' go over to the enemy. Monty is some eloquent, an', besides,he has a way of gettin' people to agree with him. He'll be plumb wildwhen he heahs what he an' Link are up against. But it's a square deal,because he wouldn't help us or lend the book that shows how to play.An', besides, it's policy for us to beat him. Now, if you'll elect who'sto be caddies an' umpire I'll be powerful obliged."

  Madeline's friends were hugely amused over the prospective match; but,except for Dorothy and Castleton, they disclaimed any ambition foractive participation. Accordingly, Madeline appointed Castleton to judgethe play, Dorothy to act as caddie for Ed Linton, and she herself to becaddie for Ambrose. While Stillwell beamingly announced this momentousnews to his team and supporters Monty and Link were striding up.

  Both were diminutive in size, bow-legged, lame in one foot, andaltogether unprepossessing. Link was young, and Monty's years, more thantwice Link's, had left their mark. But it would have been impossible totell Monty's age. As Stillwell said, Monty was burned to the color andhardness of a cinder. He never minded the heat, and always wore heavysheepskin chaps with the wool outside. This made him look broader thanhe was long. Link, partial to leather, had, since he became Madeline'schauffeur, taken to leather altogether. He carried no weapon, but Montywore a huge gun-sheath and gun. Link smoked a cigarette and lookedcoolly impudent. Monty was dark-faced, swaggering, for all the worldlike a barbarian chief.

  "That Monty makes my flesh creep," said Helen, low-voiced. "Really,Mr. Stillwell, is he so bad--desperate--as I've heard? Did he ever killanybody?"

  "Sure. 'Most as many as Nels," replied Stillwell, cheerfully.

  "Oh! And is that nice Mr. Nels a desperado, too? I wouldn't have thoughtso. He's so kind and old-fashioned and soft-voiced."

  "Nels is sure an example of the dooplicity of men, Miss Helen. Don'tyou listen to his soft voice. He's really as bad as a side-winderrattlesnake."

  At this juncture Monty and Link reached the teeing-ground, and Stillwellwent out to meet them. The other cowboys pressed forward to surround thetrio. Madeline heard Stillwell's voice, and evidently he was explainingthat his team was to have skilled advice during the play. Suddenly therecame from the center of the group a loud, angry roar that broke off assuddenly. Then followed excited voices all mingled together. PresentlyMonty appeared, breaking away from restraining hands, and he strodetoward Madeline.

  Monty Price was a type of cowboy who had never been known to speak toa woman unless he was first addressed, and then he answered in blunt,awkward shyness. Upon this great occasion, however, it appeared thathe meant to protest or plead with Madeline, for he showed stress ofemotion. Madeline had never gotten acquainted with Monty. She was alittle in awe, if not in fear, of him, and now she found it imperativefor her to keep in mind that more than any other of the wild fellows onher ranch this one should be dealt with as if he were a big boy.

  Monty removed his sombrero--something he had never done before--and thesingle instant when it was off was long enough to show his head entirelybald. This was one of the hall-marks of that terrible Montana prairiefire through which he had fought to save the life of a child. Madelinedid not forget it, and all at once she wanted to take Monty's side.Remembering Stillwell's wisdom, however, she forebore yielding tosentiment, and called upon her wits.

  "Miss--Miss Hammond," began Monty, stammering, "I'm extendin' admirin'greetin's to you an' your friends. Link an' me are right down proud toplay the match game with you watchin'. But Bill says you're goin' tocaddie for his team an' coach 'em on the fine points. An' I want to ask,all respectful, if thet's fair an' square?"

  "Monty, that is for you to say," replied Madeline. "It was mysuggestion. But if you object in the least, of course we shall withdraw.It seems fair to me, because you have learned the game; you are expert,and I understand the other boys have no chance with you. Then you havecoached Link. I think it would be sportsmanlike of you to accept thehandicap."

  "Aw, a handicap! Thet was what Bill was drivin' at. Why didn't he sayso? Every time Bill comes to a word thet's pie to us old golfers he jeststumbles. Miss Majesty, you've made it all clear as print. An' I maysay with becomin' modesty thet you wasn't mistaken none about mebein' sportsmanlike. Me an' Link was born thet way. An' we accept thehandicap. Lackin' thet handicap, I reckon Link an' me would have noambish to play our most be-ootiful game. An' thankin' you, Miss Majesty,an' all your friends, I want to add thet if Bill's outfit couldn't beatus before, they've got a swell chanct now, with you ladies a-watchin' mean' Link."

  Monty had seemed to expand with pride as he delivered this speech,and at the end he bowed low and turned away. He joined the group roundStillwell. Once more there was animated discussion and argument andexpostulation. One of the cowboys came for Castleton and led him away toexploit upon ground rules.

  It seemed to Madeline that the game never would begin. She strolled onthe rim of the mesa, arm in arm with Edith Wayne, and while Edithtalked she looked out over the gray valley leading to the rugged
blackmountains and the vast red wastes. In the foreground on the gray slopeshe saw cattle in movement and cowboys riding to and fro. She thoughtof Stewart. Then Boyd Harvey came for them, saying all details hadbeen arranged. Stillwell met them half-way, and this cool, dry, oldcattleman, whose face and manner scarcely changed at the announcement ofa cattle-raid, now showed extreme agitation.

  "Wal, Miss Majesty, we've gone an' made a foozle right at the start," hesaid, dejectedly.

  "A foozle? But the game has not yet begun," replied Madeline.

  "A bad start, I mean. It's amazin' bad, an' we're licked already."

  "What in the world is wrong?"

  She wanted to laugh, but Stillwell's distress restrained her.

  "Wal, it's this way. That darn Monty is as cute an' slick as a fox.After he got done declaimin' about the handicap he an' Link was so happyto take, he got Castleton over hyar an' drove us all dotty with hiscrazy gol-lof names. Then he borrowed Castleton's gol-lof coat. I reckonborrowed is some kind word. He just about took that blazin' coat off theEnglishman. Though I ain't sayin' but that Casleton was agreeablewhen he tumbled to Monty's meanin'. Which was nothin' more 'n to breakAmbrose's heart. That coat dazzles Ambrose. You know how vain Ambroseis. Why, he'd die to get to wear that Englishman's gol-lof coat. An'Monty forestalled him. It's plumb pitiful to see the look in Ambrose'seyes. He won't be able to play much. Then what do you think? Monty fixedEd Linton, all right. Usually Ed is easy-goin' an' cool. But now he'son the rampage. Wal, mebbe it's news to you to learn that Ed's wife ispowerful, turrible jealous of him. Ed was somethin' of a devil with thewimmen. Monty goes over an' tells Beulah--that's Ed's wife--that Ed isgoin' to have for caddie the lovely Miss Dorothy with the goo-goo eyes.I reckon this was some disrespectful, but with all doo respect to MissDorothy she has got a pair of unbridled eyes. Mebbe it's just naturalfor her to look at a feller like that. Oh, it's all right; I'm notsayin' any-thin'! I know it's all proper an' regular for girls back Eastto use their eyes. But out hyar it's bound to result disastrous. All theboys talk about among themselves is Miss Dot's eyes, an' all they bragabout is which feller is the luckiest. Anyway, sure Ed's wife knows it.An' Monty up an' told her that it was fine for her to come out an' seehow swell Ed was prancin' round under the light of Miss Dot's browneyes. Beulah calls over Ed, figgertively speakin', ropes him for aminnit. Ed comes back huggin' a grouch as big as a hill. Oh, it wasfunny! He was goin' to punch Monty's haid off. An' Monty stands therean' laughs. Says Monty, sarcastic as alkali water: 'Ed, we-all knowedyou was a heap married man, but you're some locoed to give yourselfaway.' That settled Ed. He's some touchy about the way Beulah henpeckshim. He lost his spirit. An' now he couldn't play marbles, let alonegol-lof. Nope, Monty was too smart. An' I reckon he was right aboutbrains bein' what wins."

  The game began. At first Madeline and Dorothy essayed to direct theendeavors of their respective players. But all they said and did onlymade their team play the worse. At the third hole they were far behindand hopelessly bewildered. What with Monty's borrowed coat, with itsdazzling effect upon Ambrose, and Link's oft-repeated allusion toEd's matrimonial state, and Stillwell's vociferated disgust, and theclamoring good intention and pursuit of the cowboy supporters, and theembarrassing presence of the ladies, Ambrose and Ed wore through allmanner of strange play until it became ridiculous.

  "Hey, Link," came Monty's voice booming over the links, "our esteemedrivals are playin' shinny."

  Madeline and Dorothy gave up, presently, when the game became a rout,and they sat down with their followers to watch the fun. Whether by hookor crook, Ed and Ambrose forged ahead to come close upon Monty and Link.Castleton disappeared in a mass of gesticulating, shouting cowboys. Whenthat compact mass disintegrated Castleton came forth rather hurriedly,it appeared, to stalk back toward his hostess and friends.

  "Look!" exclaimed Helen, in delight. "Castleton is actually excited.Whatever did they do to him? Oh, this is immense!"

  Castleton was excited, indeed, and also somewhat disheveled.

  "By Jove! that was a rum go," he said, as he came up. "Never saw suchblooming golf! I resigned my office as umpire."

  Only upon considerable pressure did he reveal the reason. "It was likethis, don't you know. They were all together over there, watching eachother. Monty Price's ball dropped into a hazard, and he moved it toimprove the lie. By Jove! they've all been doing that. But over therethe game was waxing hot. Stillwell and his cowboys saw Monty move theball, and there was a row. They appealed to me. I corrected the play,showed the rules. Monty agreed he was in the wrong. However, when itcame to moving his ball back to its former lie in the hazard there wasmore blooming trouble. Monty placed the ball to suit him, and then hetransfixed me with an evil eye.

  "'Dook,' he said. I wish the bloody cowboy would not call me that.'Dook, mebbe this game ain't as important as international politics orsome other things relatin', but there's some health an' peace dependin'on it. Savvy? For some space our opponents have been dead to honor an'sportsmanlike conduct. I calculate the game depends on my next drive.I'm placin' my ball as near to where it was as human eyesight could.You seen where it was same as I seen it. You're the umpire, an', Dook, Itake you as a honorable man. Moreover, never in my born days has my wordbeen doubted without sorrow. So I'm askin' you, wasn't my ball layin'just about here?'

  "The bloody little desperado smiled cheerfully, and he dropped his righthand down to the butt of his gun. By Jove, he did! Then I had to tell ablooming lie!"

  Castleton even caught the tone of Monty's voice, but it was plain thathe had not the least conception that Monty had been fooling. Madelineand her friends divined it, however; and, there being no need ofreserve, they let loose the fountains of mirth.