The half dozen punchers who followed the maddened steers had no time for Frances and her companion. A great cloud of dust hung over the departing herd and that was the last the castaways on the prairie would see of either cattle or punchers that day. "We've got to walk, I reckon," Frances said, slowly. "How about this steer?" asked the young man, curiously. "I think he's tamed enough for the time," said the girl, with a smile. "Anyway I want my rope. It's a good one." She began to untangle the bald-faced steer. He struggled and grunted and tossed his wide, wicked horns free. To tell the truth Pratt was more than a little afraid of him. But he saw that Frances had reloaded the revolver she carried, and he merely stepped aside and waited. The girl knew so much better what to do that he could be of no assistance. "Now, Pratt," she said, at last, "stand from under! Hoop-la!" She swung the looped lariat and brought it down smartly upon the beast's back as it struggled to its shaking legs. The steer bellowed, shook himself like a dog coming out of the water, or a mule out of the harness, and trotted away briskly. "He'll follow the herd, I reckon," Frances said, smiling again. "If he doesn't they'll pick him out at the next round-up. His brand is too plain to miss." "And now we're afoot," said Pratt. "It's a long walk for you back to the house, Frances." "And longer for you to the Edwards ranch," she laughed. "But perhaps you will fall in with some of Mr. Bill's herders. They'll have an extra mount or two. I'll maybe catch Molly. She's a good pinto." "But oughtn't I to go back with you?" questioned Pratt, doubtfully. "You see--you're alone--and afoot----" "Why! it isn't the first time, Pratt," laughed the girl. "Don't fret about me. This range to me is just like your backyard to you." "I suppose it sounds silly," admitted Pratt. "But I haven't been used to seeing girls quite as independent as you are, Frances Rugley." "No? The girls you know don't live the sort of life I do," said the range girl, rather wistfully. "I don't know that they have anything on you," put in Pratt, stoutly. "I think you're just wonderful!" "Because I am doing something different from what you are used to seeing girls do," she said, with gravity. "That is no compliment, Pratt." "Well! I meant it as such," he said, earnestly. He offered his hand, knowing better than to urge his company upon her. "And I hope you know how much obliged to you I am. I feel as though you had saved my life twice. I would not have known what to do in the face of that stampede." "Every man to his trade," quoted Frances, carelessly. "Good-bye, Pratt. Come over again to see us," and she gave his hand a quick clasp and turned away briskly. He stood and watched her for some moments; then, fearing she might look back and see him, he faced around himself and set forth on his long tramp to the Edwards ranch.