orelegs and head fairly into the
whirring circle!

The moment before--figuring with a nicety that made Pratt Sanderson gasp
with wonder--Frances had pulled back on Molly's bit and jerked back her
own arm that controlled the lasso.

Molly slid on her haunches, while the loop tightened and held the
antelope in an unbreakable grip.

"Quick, Pratt!" cried the girl of the ranges, seeing the young man
coming up. "Get down and use your knife. He'll kick free in a second."

As Pratt obeyed, leaping from his saddle before the grey pony really
halted, Sue Latrop raced up on her mount and stopped. Frances was
leaning back in her saddle, holding the rope as taut as possible. Pratt
flung himself upon the struggling antelope.

And then rather a strange and unexpected thing happened. Pratt had the
panting, quivering, frightened creature in his arms. A thrust of his
hunting knife would have put it out of all pain.

Sue was as eager as one of the hounds which were now coming up with
great leaps. Pratt glanced around a moment, saw the dogs coming, and
suddenly loosened the noose and let the antelope go free.

"What are you doing?" shrieked the girl from Boston. "You've let it go!"

"Yes," said Pratt, quietly.

"But what for?" demanded Sue, quite angrily. "Why! you had it."

"Yes," said Pratt again, as the two girls drew near to him.

"You--you--why! what for?" repeated Sue, half-bewildered.

"I couldn't bear to kill it, or let the dogs tear it," said Pratt,
slowly. The antelope was now far away and Frances had commanded the dogs
to return.

"Why not?" asked Sue, grimly.

"Because the poor little thing was crying--actually!" gasped Pratt, very
red in the face. "Great tears were running out of its beautiful eyes. I
could have killed a helpless baby just as easily."

Frances coiled up her line and never said a word. But Sue flashed out:

"Oh, you gump! I've been in at the death of a fox a number of times and
seen the brush cut off and the dogs worry the beast to death. That's
what they are for. Well, you are a softy, Pratt Sanderson."

"I guess I am," admitted the young bank clerk. "I wasn't made for such
work as this."

He turned away to catch his pony and did not even look at Frances. If he
had, he would have seen her eyes illuminated with a radiant admiration
that would almost have stunned him.

"If daddy had seen him do that," whispered Frances to herself, "I'm sure
he would have a better opinion of Pratt than he