“Do what I tell ye!” exclaimed the man. “Ain’t ye l’arned that I mean what I say yet?”
“I must move my limbs. They’re cramped and co-o-old!” wailed Frances, and she put a deal of energy into her cry.
Pete began to get stiffly to his feet. “Do like I tell ye, and lie down–or I’ll knock ye down!” he threatened.
At that the girl risked uttering a cry and shrank back with a semblance of fear. Aye, there was more than a semblance of fear in the attitude, for she believed he would strike her. She had shrieked, however, at the top of her voice.
“Shut your mouth, ye crazy thing!” exclaimed the man, and he leaped toward her.
Frances threw herself back upon the ground. She heard the clatter of hoofbeats approaching. They could be mistaken for no other sound.
“Daddy! Daddy! Help! Help!”
Her voice was piercing. The cry for her father was involuntary, for she believed him too ill to leave the ranch-house.
But the answering shout that came down the wind was unmistakable.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Frances cried again, eagerly, loudly.