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"For myself," said Frances, quietly. "Pratt is too sick to notice much what I wear, I guess. But I find that I have been paying too little attention to dress."
"Huh!" snorted the old ranchman.
"It is a woman's duty to make herself as beautiful and attractive as possible," said Frances, with a bright smile. "You know, I read that in a woman's paper."
"You surely did!" agreed the ranchman, and then turned to meet Silent Sam as that individual drew up to the step.
"What's the good word, Sam?" inquired the Captain.
"Got that Ratty. He's in the jail at Jackleg. Like you said, I never told n.o.body but the sheriff what 'twas for you wanted him."
"That's right," said the Captain, gravely. "If the boys understood he was mixed up with this kidnapping business, I don't know what they would do."
"Right, Captain," said the foreman. "So the sheriff took him for being all lit up. Ratty won't sleep it off before to-morrow."
"And if they could catch that Pete What's-his-name by then----"
"Ain't found hide nor hair of him," answered Silent Sam.
"Where do you reckon he went to, Sam?"
"He didn't go with his horse, Captain. He fooled us."
"What?"
"That's so. Horse was found yisterday evenin' down beyand Peckham's--scurcely breathed. He'd run fur, but he didn't have n.o.body on his back."
"I see!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the ranchman, smiting one doubled fist upon the other palm. "That Pete has fooled us from the start."
"Sure did," admitted Sam.
"He never mounted his horse at all?" cried Frances, deeply interested.
"That's it," said her father. "We ought to have known that at the time.
No horse could have gone smas.h.i.+ng through the brush the way that one did without knocking his rider's head off."
"Sure," agreed Sam again.
"And he was right there near the place he held Pratt and me captive all the time we were making a stretcher for poor Pratt," said Frances.
"Or hiking up stream," said the foreman, preparing to ride down to the corral.
"Lucky the boy broke the fellow's gun as he did," said Captain Rugley, thoughtfully, turning to his daughter. "Otherwise some of us might have been popped off from the bushes."
"Oh, Daddy!"
"When a man's as mean as that scalawag," said her father, philosophically, "there's no knowing to what lengths he will go. I shan't feel that you are safe on the ranges until he's found and jailed."
"And I shan't feel that we're out of trouble until your friend Mr.
Lonergan comes here and you divide and get rid of that silly old treasure," declared Frances, and she pouted a little.
"What's that, Frances?" gasped the old Captain. "All those jewels and stuff? Why, don't you care anything for them?"
"I care more for my peace of mind," she said, decidedly. "And see what it's brought poor Pratt to."
"Well," said her father, subsiding. "The boy did git the dirty end of the stick, for a fact. I'm sorry he was hurt----"
"And you are sorry you thought so ill of him, too, Daddy--you know you are," whispered Frances, one arm stealing over the Captain's shoulder.
"Well----"
"Now, ''fessup!'" she laughed, softly. "He's a good boy to risk himself for me."
"I wouldn't have thought much of him if he hadn't," said the old ranchman, stubbornly.
"What could you really expect when you consider that he has lived all his life in a city----"
"And works in a bank," finished the Captain, with a sly grin. "But I reckon I have got to take off my hat to him. He's a hero."
"He is a good boy," Frances said, cheerfully. "And I hope that he will recover all right, as the doctor says he will."
"I don't know how fast he'll mend," chuckled the Captain. "If I were he, and getting the attention he is----"
"From whom?" demanded Frances, turning on him sharply.
"From Ming, of course," responded her father, soberly, but with his eyes a-twinkle.
And then Frances fled upstairs again, her cheeks burning as she heard the old ranchman's mellow laughter.
Pratt lay on his bed with his head swathed in bandages and his shoulder in a brace. He had suffered a dislocation as well as the bruises and the cut in his head. From the time he had been struck from behind by the man, Pete, the young fellow had known nothing at all until he awoke to find himself stretched upon this bed in the Bar-T ranch-house.
The old Captain, with Ming's help, had disrobed Pratt and put him to bed; but when the doctor came early in the morning, he put the patient in Frances' hands.
"What he needs is good nursing. Don't leave him to the men," said the doctor. "Your father says he's cured himself by getting out on horseback. If it didn't kill him, I admit it's aiding in his cure for him to be more active again.
"But I depend upon you, my dear, to keep this patient as quiet as possible. I hate having my patients get away from me," added the physician with twinkling eye. "And this lad is mine for some time. He has sure been badly shaken up."
He was afraid at first that there was concussion of the brain; but after a few hours the young bank clerk became lucid in his speech and the fever began to decrease.
The doctor had not left the ranch until the evening before this day when Frances stole up the stair again to peer into the room to see how her patient was.
"Oh, I'm awake!" cried Pratt, cheerfully. "You don't expect me to sleep all the time, do you, Frances?"
"Sleep is good for you," declared the girl of the ranges, with a sober smile. "The doctor says you are to keep very quiet."
"Goodness! I might as well be buried and so save my board," grumbled Pratt. "When is he going to let me get up out of this?"
"Not for a long, long time yet," said Frances, seriously.