The ex-cowboy of the Bar-T swung around upon the trail, as though headed east, and grinned at the ranchman's daughter. His face was very red and his eyes were blurred, and Frances feared he had been drinking. "Hi, lady!" he drawled. "Are ye mad with me?" "I don't like you, M'Gill," the girl said, frankly. "You don't expect me to, do you?" "Aw, why be fussy?" asked the cowboy, gaily. "It's too pretty a world to hold grudges. Let's be friends, Frances." Frances grew restive under his leering smile and forced gaiety. She searched M'Gill sharply with her look. "You didn't gallop out of your way to tell me this," she said. "What do you want of me?" "Oh, just to say how-de-do!" declared the fellow, still with his leering smile. "And to wish you a good journey." "What do you know about my journey?" asked Frances, quickly. But Ratty M'Gill was not so much intoxicated that he could be easily coaxed to divulge any secret. He shook his head, still grinning. "Heard 'em say you were going to Amarillo, before I went to Jackleg," he drawled. "Mighty lonesome journey for a gal to take." "Mack is with me," said Frances, shortly. "I am not lonely." "Whew! I bet that hurt me," chuckled Ratty M'Gill. "My room's better than my comp'ny, eh?" "It certainly is," said the girl, frankly. "Now, you wouldn't say that if you knowed something that I know," declared the fellow, grinning slily. "I don't know that anything you may say would interest me," the girl replied, sharply, and turned Molly's head. "Aw, hold on!" cried Ratty. "Don't be so abrupt. What I gotter say to you may help a lot." But Frances did not look back. She pushed Molly for the now distant wagon. In a moment she knew that Ratty was thundering after her. What did he mean by such conduct? To tell the truth, the ranchman's daughter was troubled. Surely, the reckless fellow did not propose to attack Mack and herself on the open trail and in broad daylight? She opened her lips to shout for the sleeping wagon-driver, when a cloud of dust ahead of the mules came into her view. She heard the clatter of many hoofs. Quite a cavalcade was coming along the trail from the east. Out of the dust appeared a figure that Frances had learned to know well; and to tell the truth she was not sorry in her heart to see the smiling countenance of Pratt Sanderson. "Hold on, Frances! Ye better listen to me a minute!" shouted the ex-cowboy behind her. She gave him no attention. Molly sprang ahead and she met Pratt not far from the wagon. He stopped abruptly, as did the girl of the ranges. Ratty M'Gill brought his own mount to a sudden halt within a few yards. "Hello!" exclaimed Pratt. "What's the matter, Frances?" "Why, Pratt! How came you and your friends to be riding this way?" returned the range girl. She saw the red coat of the girl from Boston in the party passing the slowly moving wagon, and she was not at all sure that she was glad to see Pratt, after all!