"

She saw him start for the corral, and suddenly showed emotion. "Oh,
Pratt!" she cried, weakly.

The young man did not hear her. Should she shout louder for him? She
paled and then grew rosy red. Should she run after him? Should she tell
him the truth about that chest?

"Do come in the house, Miss Frances," urged Mrs. Peckham. And the girl
from the Bar-T obeyed her and allowed Pratt to go.

"You must sure be done up," said Mrs. Peckham, bustling about. "I'll
make you a cup of tea."

"Thank you," said Frances. She listened for the posse to start, and knew
that, when they dashed away, Pratt Sanderson was with them.

Mack Hinkman arrived with the double mule team soon after. He said the
crowd had gone by him "on the jump."

"I 'low they'll ketch that feller that stole your chist, Miss Frances,
'bout the time two Sundays come together in the week," he declared.
"He's had plenty of time to make himself scarce."

"But the trunk?" cried Mrs. Peckham. "That was some heavy, wasn't it?"

"Aw, he had a wagon handy. He wouldn't have tried to take the chist if
he hadn't. Don't you say so, Miss Frances?" said the teamster.

"I don't know," said the girl, and she spoke wearily. Indeed, she had
suddenly become tired of hearing the robbery discussed.

"Don't trouble the poor girl," urged Mrs. Peckham. "She's all done up.
We'll know all about it when John Peckham gets back. You wanter go to
bed, honey?"

Frances was glad to retire. Not alone was she weary, but she wished to
escape any further discussion of the incident at the ford.

Mrs. Peckham showed her to the room she was to occupy. Mack would remain
up to repair properly the cracked axle of the wagon.

For, whether the chest was recovered or not, Frances proposed to go
right on in the morning to Amarillo.

She did not awaken when Mr. Peckham and his men returned; but Frances
was up at daybreak and came into the kitchen for breakfast. Mrs. Peckham
was bustling about just as she had been the night before when the girl
from the Bar-T retired.

"Hard luck, Miss Frances!" the good lady cried. "Them men ain't worth
more'n two bits a dozen, when it comes to sending 'em out on a trail.
They never got your trunk for you at all!"

"And they did not catch the man who stopped us at the ford?"

"Of course not. John Peckham never could catch anything but a cold."

"But where could he have gone--that man, I mean?" queried Frances.

"Give it up! One party went up stream an