It was mid-pasturage season and the ranges were already dry. A spark might at any time start a serious fire.
“We-ell,” gasped Frances, at last. “I can’t stop you from coming!”
“Of course not!” laughed Pratt, and quickly turned his grey pony to ride beside the pinto.
The wagon was now a long way ahead. They set off on a gallop to overtake it. But when Frances looked over her shoulder after a minute, Ratty M’Gill still remained on the trail, as though undecided whether to follow or not.
CHAPTER XVII
AN ACCIDENT
It was not until later that Frances was disturbed by the thought that Pratt was suspected by her father of having a strong curiosity regarding the Spanish treasure chest.
“And here he has forced his company upon me,” thought the girl. “What would father say, if he knew about it?”
But fortunately Captain Rugley was not at hand with his suspicions. Frances wished to believe the young man from Amarillo truly her friend; and on this ride toward Peckham’s they became better acquainted than before.
That is, the girl of the ranges learned to know Pratt better. The young fellow talked more freely of himself, his mother, his circumstances.