Frances of the Ranges Part 32

"You haven't been thrown, Frances, have you?" asked Pratt, solicitously.

"Are you hurt?"

Then the girl's frightened gaze, or some rustle of Pete's movement, made Pratt Sanderson turn. Pete had reached for his rifle and secured it. And by so doing he completely mastered the situation.

"Put your hands over your head, young feller!" he growled, swinging the muzzle of the heavy gun toward Pratt. "And keep 'em there till I've seen what you carry in your pockets."

He strode toward the surprised Pratt, who obeyed the order with becoming promptness.

"Don't you make no move, neither, Miss," growled the man, darting a glance in Frances' direction.

"Why--why---- What do you mean?" demanded Pratt, recovering his breath at last. "Do you dare hold this young lady a prisoner?"

"Yep. That's what I dare," sneered Pete. "And it looks like I'd got you, too. What d'ye think you're going to do about it?"

"Isn't this the fellow who robbed us at the river that time, Frances?"

cried Pratt.

The girl nodded. Just then she could not speak.

"And that fellow Ratty was with him this time?"

Again the girl nodded.

"Then they shall both be arrested and punished," declared Pratt. "I never heard of such effrontery. Do you know who this young lady is, man?" he demanded of Pete.

"Jest as well as you do. And her pa's going to put up big for to see her again--unharmed," snarled the man.

"What do you mean?" gasped Pratt, his face blazing and his fists clenched. "You dare harm her----"

Pete was slapping him about the pockets to make sure he carried no weapon. Now he struck Pratt a heavy blow across the mouth, cutting his lips and making his ears ring.

"Shut up, you young jackanapes!" commanded the man. "I'll hurt her and you, too, if I like."

"And Captain Dan Rugley won't rest till he sees you well punished if you harm her," mumbled Pratt.

Pete struck at him again. Pratt dodged back. And at that moment Frances disappeared!

The man had only had his eyes off her for half a minute. He gasped, his jaw dropped, and his bloodshot eyes roved all about, trying to discover Frances' whereabouts.

He had not realized that, despite her fear, the girl of the ranges had had her limbs drawn up and her muscles taut ready for a spring.

His attention given for the moment to Pratt Sanderson, Frances had risen and dodged behind the bole of the tree against which she was leaning, a carefully watched prisoner.

She would never have escaped so easily had it been Ratty in charge; for his mental processes were quicker than those of Pete.

Flitting from tree to tree, keeping one or more of the big trunks between her and Pete's roving eyes while still he was speechless, she was traveling farther and farther from the camp.

She might have set forth running almost at once, and so escaped. But she could not leave Pratt to the heavy hand of Pete. Nor could she abandon Molly.

Frances, therefore, began encircling the opening where the fire burned; but she kept well out of Pete's sight.

She heard him utter a bellow which would have done credit to a mad steer. That came when he saw Pratt was about to escape, too.

The young fellow was creeping away, stooping and on tiptoe. Pete uttered a frightful imprecation and sprang after him with his rifle clubbed and raised above his head.

"Stand where you are!" he commanded, "or I'll bat your foolish head in!"

And he looked enraged enough to do it. Pratt dared not move farther; he crouched in terror, expecting the blow.

He had bravely a.s.sailed Pete with his tongue when Frances seemed in danger; but the girl had escaped now and Pratt hoped she was each minute putting rods between this place and herself.

Pete suddenly dropped his rifle and sprang at the young man. Pratt's throat was in the vicelike grip of Pete on the instant. Both his wrists were seized by the man's other hand.

Such feeble struggles as Pratt made were abortive. His breath was shut off and he felt his senses leaving him.

But as his eyes rolled up there was a crash in the brush and a pony dashed into the open. It was Molly and her mistress was astride her.

Frances had lost her hat; her hair had become loosened and was tossed about her pale face. But her eyes glowed with the light of determination and she spurred the pony directly at the two struggling figures in the middle of the hollow.

"I'm coming, Pratt!" she cried. "Hold on!"

CHAPTER XXIV

A GOOD DEAL OF EXCITEMENT

Pete twisted himself around to look over his shoulder, but still kept his clutch on the breathless young man. However, Pratt feebly dragged his wrists out of the man's grasp.

Frances was riding the pinto directly at them. Under her skillful guidance the pony's off shoulder must collide with Pete, unless the man dropped Pratt entirely and sprang aside.

The man did this, uttering a yell of anger. Pratt staggered the other way and Frances brought Molly to a standstill directly between the two.

"You let him alone!" the girl commanded, gazing indignantly at the rascally man. "Oh! you shall be paid in full for all you have done this day. When Captain Rugley hears of this.

"Quick, Pratt!" she shrieked. "That rifle!"

Pete was bent over reaching for the weapon. Frances jerked Molly around, but she could not drive the pony against the man in time to topple him over before his wicked fingers closed on the barrel of the gun.

It was Pratt who made the attack in this emergency. He had played on the Amarillo High football eleven and he knew how to "tackle."

Before Pete could rise up with the recovered weapon in his grasp Pratt had him around the legs. The man staggered forward, trying to kick away the young fellow; but Pratt clung to him, and his antagonist finally fell upon his knees.

Quick as a flash Pratt sprang astride his bowed back. He kicked Pete's braced arms out from under him and the man fell forward, screaming and threatening the most awful punishment for his young antagonist.

Frances could not get into the melee with Molly. The two rolled over and over on the ground and suddenly Pete gave vent to a shriek of pain. He had rolled on his back into the fire!