Frances of the Ranges Part 34

This threatening missive was unsigned. Silent Sam read it twice. Then he handed it back to the Captain.

"Does it look like a joke to you--a poor sort of a joke?" whispered the ranchman.

"I wouldn't say so," muttered Sam.

"I'm going after them," said Captain Rugley, with determination.

"How?"

"Somebody handed Vic this on the trail. He'll show us where. We'll try to pick up the man's traces. Of course it was one of the scoundrels handed the letter to Vic."

"Who do ye think they are?" asked Sam, slowly.

"I don't know," said the worried ranchman. "But whoever they are they shall suffer if they harm a hair of her head!"

"That's what," said Sam, quietly. "But ain't you an idee who they be?"

"That fellow who took the old trunk away from Frances?"

"Might be. And he must have partners."

"So I've said right along," declared the ranchman, vigorously. "Where did you leave Frances, Sam?"

"After the jack hunt? Right thar with Miz' Edwards and her crowd."

"Was young Pratt Sanderson with them?"

"Sure."

"That's it!" growled Captain Dan Rugley, smiting one palm with his other fist. "She'd ride off with him. Thinks him all right----"

"Ye don't mean to say ye think he's in this mean mess?"

"I don't know. He's turned up whenever we've had trouble lately. If it wasn't so far to Bill Edwards' I'd ride that way and find out if the fellow is there, or what they know about him."

Silent Sam earned his nickname, if ever, during the next hour. He did not say ten words; but his efficient management got a posse of the most trustworthy men together, and they rode away from the ranch-house.

There was no use advising the Captain not to accompany the party. n.o.body dared thwart him after a glance into his grim face.

The hard-bitted Cherry which he always rode was held down to the pace of the other horses with an iron hand. The Captain rode as securely in his saddle as he had before rheumatism seized upon his limbs.

How long this false strength, inspired by his fear and indignation, would remain with him the others did not know. Sam and his mates watched "the Old Cap" with wonder.

Victorino's gaze was fixed upon the doughty ranchman's back with many different emotions in his trouble-torn mind. He was wondering what would happen to him if Captain Rugley ever learned that he had told a falsehood about that note.

He was so scared that he dared not lead the party to a false trail. He told them just where he had met Ratty M'Gill; but he stuck to his imaginary description of the person who had entrusted the letter to him.

"Going, west, you say?" said Captain Rugley. "It might be to lead us off the trail. And then again, he might be going right back to whatever place they have Frances hidden.

"I fear we'll have a hard time following a trail to-night, anyway. But Sam says he left the folks after the jack hunt over there by Cottonwood Bottom. I think we'd better search the length of that stream first."

Sam spoke up suddenly: "Frances asked me if there were any close thickets where a man might hide out, along those banks."

"She did?"

"Yes. It just come to me," said the foreman. "When we were beating up those jacks."

"Enough said!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the ranchman. "Come on, boys!"

Through the dusk they rode straight away toward the ford. And although the old Captain could hardly hope it, every moment the horse was bearing him nearer and nearer to his lost daughter.

Dusk had long since fallen; but there was a faint moon and a mult.i.tude of stars. On the open plain the shadows of the horses and riders moved in grotesque procession. In the hollow far down the stream, where Pete had made his camp, the shadows were deep and oppressive.

The fellow kept alive but a spark of fire. Now and then he threw on a stick for replenishing. Outside the feeble light cast by the flickering flames, one could scarcely see at all.

But there were two faintly outlined forms near the fire beside that of the burly Pete. Occasionally a groan issued from the lips of Pratt Sanderson, for he lay senseless, a great bruise upon his head, his wrists and ankles tied with painful security.

The other form was that of Frances herself. She did not speak nor moan, although she was quite wide awake. She, too, was tied up in such a way that she could not possibly free herself.

And she was frightened--desperately frightened!

She had reason to be. The ex-orderly from the Bylittle Soldiers' Home had proved himself to be a perfect madman when he found that the girl and Pratt were really escaping.

Evidently he had seized upon the desperate attempt to hold Frances for ransom as a last resort. She had played into his hands by riding down into this hollow.

Pratt Sanderson's interference had enraged the fellow to the limit. And when the young man had momentarily gotten the best of him, Pete was fairly insane for the time being.

With his rifle broken the man was unable to shoot, for Frances' revolver which he had obtained at the beginning of the scuffle was empty. The small gun she had used shooting jacks had been sent back with Sam to the ranch.

The girl was urging Molly through the brush and Pratt was tearing after her, their direction bringing them nearer and nearer to the young man's grey pony, when suddenly Frances heard Pratt scream.

She glanced back, pulling in the excited pinto with a strong hand. Her friend was pitching forward to the ground. He had been struck by her pistol, which Pete had flung with all his might.

The next moment with an exultant cry the man sprang from his horse upon the prostrate Pratt.

"Get off him! Go away!" cried Frances, pulling Molly around.

But the brush was too thick, and the pinto got tangled up in it. Fearful for Pratt's safety, and never thinking of her own, the girl sprang from the saddle and ran back.

This was what Pete was expecting. Pratt was safe enough--senseless and moaning on the ground.

When the girl came near Pete leaped up, seized her by the wrists, jerked her toward him, and held her firmly with one hand while he produced a soiled bandanna, with which he quickly knotted her wrists together.

No matter how hard she fought, he was so much more powerful than she that the ranchman's daughter could not break his hold. In five minutes she was tied and thrown to the ground, quite as helpless as Pratt himself.

Pete left her lying where she fell and picked up Pratt first. Him the fellow carried back to the campfire and tied both hand and foot before he returned for Frances.

All the time the man uttered the most fearful imprecations, and showed so much callousness toward the injured young man that the girl begged him, with tears, to do something to ease Pratt.