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Although he said never a word, Frances' hand tightened on Molly's rein. The next moment she would have spurred the pinto up the hill; but a drawling voice within a yard of her spoke. "How-do, Frances? 'Light, won't yer?" and there followed Ratty M'Gill's well-known laugh. "We didn't expect ye; but ye're welcome just the same." Ratty's hand was on Molly's bridle-rein.
He was a lanky, saturnine man, with never a laugh in his whole make-up. But he was liked by the men, and Frances knew him to be faithful to the Bar-T interests. "What happened to Ratty's bunch?" he asked, in his sober way. "Did you see them?" cried Frances, leaping down from the saddle. "Saw their dust," said Sam. "They stampeded," Frances said, warmly. "And Mr.
Edward's first impulse was to separate them, but Gusty requested he would not, saying that he saw by Ratty's eye he was able to "lick the fellow." Ratty certainly showed great fight; what the sweep had in superior size was equalized by the superior "game" of the gentleman-boy, to whom the indomitable courage of a high-blooded race had descended, and who would sooner have died than yield.
"I shouldn't wonder. There was a bootlegger through here yesterday." "The man who tried to get over our roof!" exclaimed Frances. "Mebbe." "Do you suppose he's known to Ratty?" questioned the girl, anxiously. "Dunno. But Ratty's about worn out his welcome on the Bar-T. If the Cap says the word, I'll can him." "Well," said Frances, "he shouldn't have driven that herd so hard.
Ratty's defection hurt her as much as it surprised her. She had never thought him more than reckless; but it seemed he had developed more despicable characteristics. These and similar thoughts disturbed Frances' mind as she made her way back to the ranch-house. She found her father very weak, but once more quite lucid.
When the crowd rushed in, Master Ratty rushed out, and left the astonished family to gather up the bits of the story, as well as they could, from the broken looking-glass and the cracked dowager. Though it is clear the serious events in the O'Grady family had not altered Master Ratty's propensities in the least, the case was far different with Gustavus.
Instead, Frances Rugley was sitting with her back against a stump at the edge of the clearing where she had come so suddenly upon the campfire, with her ungloved hands lying in her lap so that Ratty's bright eyes could watch them continually. Pete had taken away her gun. Molly was hobbled with the men's horses on the other side of the hollow.
Ratty's beadlike eyes never left her. Not much of their conversation reached the ears of Frances, although she kept very still and tried to hear. She could read Ratty's lips a little, for he had no mustache; but the bearded Pete's lips were hidden.
Pete leaned toward him and his hairy hand clutched Ratty's knee. What he said to the discharged employee of the Bar-T Ranch Frances did not hear. She had, however, heard enough. She was worried by what Ratty had said about his interview with Captain Rugley. Her father should not have been disturbed by ranch business just then.
She stood in the shadow of the shed and petted Molly, fed her a couple of lumps of sugar from her pocket, and finally made her forget Ratty's abuse. But Molly's flanks would be tender for some time and her temper had not improved by the treatment she had received. "Perfectly scandalous!" exclaimed Frances, to herself, almost crying now. "Just to show off before the other boys.
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