e stair she sped. She was almost at its foot when something held
her motionless again. She halted with a gasp, while before her, from the
direction of the softly playing fountain, a figure drifted in.

Frances held her breath. Was _this_ the man who had come over the
roof of the house? Or was it another?

She crouched silently behind the railing. The figure passed her, going
toward her father's windows. She dared not whisper, for she did not
think it bulky enough for her father's huge frame.

On the trail of the figure she started, her heart palpitating with
excitement, yet never for a moment considering her own peril.

There were other bedrooms beside that of Captain Rugley in this
direction. And there was that small apartment in which the old Spanish
chest was so carefully locked.

Captain Rugley never allowed the key of this door or the key of the
chest to go out of his possession. He had always intimated that if a
thief ever tried to break into the Bar-T ranch-house, he would first of
all try to get at the treasure chest.

There were plenty of valuable things scattered about the house, but they
were bulky--hard for a thief to remove. Although Frances did not know
just what her father's treasure consisted of, she believed it must be of
such a nature that it could be removed by a thief.

Frances, her eyes now well used to the gloom, hurried along in the wake
of the drifting shadow, without sound. She came to the first window
opening into her father's sleeping apartment. Like a wraith she glided
in, believing at last that her duty was to awaken her father.

But when she reached his bed she found it undisturbed. It seemed his
pillow had not been lain upon that night. She felt swiftly over the
smooth bed, and with growing alarm--not for herself, but alarm for the
missing man.

Where could he have gone? What had happened here since the lights went
out and that mysterious marauder had come in over the ranch-house roof?

CHAPTER VI

A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION

Frances knew her way about her father's room in the dark as well as she
did about her own. She knew where every piece of furniture stood. She
knew where the chair was on which he carelessly threw his outer clothing
at night.

Like most men who for years have slept in the open, Captain Rugley did
not remove all his clothing when he went to bed. He usually lay between
blankets on the outside of his bed, with his boots and trousers ready to
jump into