ller of whom she suspected the irresponsible Ratty
M'Gill had purchased liquor. The "bootleggers" were supposed to carry
pint flasks of bad whiskey in the legs of their topboots, to sell at a
fancy price to thirsty punchers on the ranges.

"Dunno how that slate come broken on the roof," grumbled Sam. "The
feller knowed just where to go to hitch his rope ladder. Goin' to have
one of the boys ride herd on the _hacienda_ at night for a while."
This was a long speech for Silent Sam.

Frances thanked him and went up to the house. She did not find an
opportunity of speaking to Captain Rugley about Ratty M'Gill at once,
however, for she found him in a state of great excitement.

"Listen to this, Frances!" he ejaculated, when she appeared, waving a
sheet of paper in his hand, and trying to get up from the hard chair in
which he was sitting.

A spasm of pain balked him; his bronzed face wrinkled as the rheumatic
twinge gripped him; but his hawklike eyes gleamed.

"My! my!" he grunted. "This pain is something fierce."

Frances fluttered to his side. "Do take an easier chair, Daddy," she
begged. "It will be so much more comfortable."

"Hold on! this does very well. Your old dad's never been used to
cushions and do-funnies. But see here! I want you to read this." He
waved the paper again.

"What is it, Daddy?" Frances asked, without much curiosity.

"Heard from old Lon at last--yes, ma'am! What do you know about that?
From good old Lon, who was my partner for twenty years. I've got a
letter here that one of the boys brought from the station just now, from
a minister, back in Mississippi. Poor old Lon's in a soldier's home, and
he's just got track of me.

"My soul and body, Frances! Think of it," added the excited Captain.
"He's been living almost like a beggar for years in a Confederate
soldiers' home--good place, like enough, of its kind, but here am I
rolling in wealth, and that treasure chest right here under my eye, and
Lon suffering, perhaps----"

The Captain almost broke down, for with the pain he was enduring and
all, the incident quite unstrung him. Frances had her arms about him and
kissed his tear-streaked cheek.

"Foolish, am I?" he demanded, looking up at her, "But it's broken me
up--hearing from my old partner this way. Read the letter, Frances,
won't you?"

She did so. It was from the chaplain of the Bylittle Soldiers' Home, of
Bylittle, Mississippi.

"Captain Daniel Rugley,
"Bar-T Ranch,