Dear Dad! you don't mean that you think Pratt Sanderson would do such a
thing?" said Frances, in a horrified tone.

"We don't know him."

"But his coming here to the Bar-T was unexpected. I urged him to come.
That lion really scratched him----"

"Yes. It doesn't look reasonable, I allow," admitted her father; but she
could see he was not convinced of the honesty of Pratt Sanderson.

There was a difference of opinion between Frances and Captain Rugley.

CHAPTER VII

THE STAMPEDE

The remainder of the night passed in quietness. That there really had
been a marauder about the Bar-T ranch-house could not be doubted; for a
slate was found upon the ground in the morning, and the place in the
roof where it had been broken out was plainly visible.

Captain Rugley sent one of the men up with a ladder and new slates to
repair the damage. He reported that the marks of the grappling-hook in
the roof sheathing were unmistakable, too.

Although her father had expressed himself as doubtful of the good
intentions of Pratt Sanderson, Frances was glad to see at breakfast that
he treated the young man no differently than before. Pratt slept late
and the meal was held back for him.

"The attentions of that old mountain lion bothered me so that I did not
sleep much the fore part of the night," Pratt explained.

"How about that bird you heard on the roof?" the Captain asked, calmly.

"I don't know what it was. It sounded like big wings flapping," the
young fellow explained. "But I really didn't see anything."

Captain Rugley grunted, and said no more. He grunted a good deal this
morning, in fact, for every movement gave him pain.

"The rheumatism has got its fangs set in me right, this time," he told
Frances.

"That's for being out of your warm bed and chasing all over the house
without a coat on in the night," she said, admonishingly.

"Goodness!" said her father. "Must I be _that_ particular? If so, I
_am_ getting old, I reckon."

She made him promise to keep out of draughts when she mounted Molly to
ride away on an errand to a distant part of the ranch. She rode off with
Pratt Sanderson, for he was traveling in the same direction, toward Mr.
Bill Edwards' place.

Frances of the ranges was more silent than she had been when they rode
together the night before. Pratt found it hard to get into conversation
with her on any but the most ephemeral subjects.

For instance, when he hinted about Captain Rugley's adve