he beckoned to the Amarillo young man, and the latter instantly joined
her. She had conquered the steer in a few seconds; the herd was now
thundering down upon them. M'Gill, on the black pony, dashed by.

"Bully for you, Miss Frances," he yelled.

"You wait, Ratty!" Frances said; but, of course, only Pratt heard.
"Father and Sam will jack you up for this, and no mistake!"

Then she whipped out her revolver and fired it into the air--emptying
all the chambers as the herd came on.

The steers broke and passed on either side of their fallen brother. The
tossing horns, fiery eyes and red, expanded nostrils made them look--to
Pratt's mind--fully as savage as had the mountain lion the evening
before.

Then he looked again at his comrade. She was only breathing quickly now;
she gave no sign of fear. It was all in the day's work. Such adventures
as this had been occasional occurrences with Frances of the ranges since
childhood.

Pratt could scarcely connect this alert, vigorous young girl with her
who had sat at the piano in the ranch-house the previous evening!

"You're a wonder!" murmured Pratt Sanderson, to himself. And then
suddenly he broke out laughing.

"What's tickling you, Pratt?" asked Frances, in her most matter-of-fact
tone.

"I was just wondering," the Amarillo young man replied, "what Sue Latrop
will think of you when she comes out here."

"Who's she?" asked Frances, a little puzzled frown marring her smooth
forehead. She was trying to remember any girl of that name with whom she
had gone to school at the Amarillo High.

"Sue Latrop's a distant cousin of Mrs. Bill Edwards, and she's from
Boston. She's Eastern to the tips of her fingers--and talk about
'culchaw'! She has it to burn," chuckled Pratt. "Bill Edwards says she
is just 'putting on dog' to show us natives how awfully crude we are.
But I guess she doesn't know any better."

The steers had swept by, and Pratt was just a little hysterical. He
laughed too easily and his hand shook as he wiped the perspiration and
dust from his face.

"I shouldn't think she would be a nice girl at all," Frances said,
bluntly.

"Oh, she's not at all bad. Rather pretty and--my word--some dresser! No
end of clothes she's brought with her. She's coming out to the Edwards
ranch before long, and you'll probably see her."

Frances bit her lip and said nothing for a moment. The big steer
struggled again and groaned. The girl and Pratt were afoot and the
stampede of