Frances, rather glad to escape from the crowd for a time, spurred Molly down the far side of the stream, having crossed it in a shallow place. She was out of sight of the hunters, and soon out of sound. They had turned back and were going up stream again. The ranchman's daughter pulled in Molly at the brink of a little hollow beside the stream. There was a cleared space in the centre and--yes--there was a fireplace and ashes. Thick brush surrounded the camping place save on the side next to the stream. "Wonder who could have been here? And recently, too. There's smoke rising from those embers." This was Frances' unspoken thought. She let Molly step nearer. Trees overhung the place. She saw that it was as secret a spot as she had seen along the river side, and her thought flashed to Pete, the ex-orderly of the Bylittle Soldiers' Home. Then she turned in her saddle suddenly and saw the very man standing near her, rifle in hand. His leering smile frightened her. Although he said never a word, Frances' hand tightened on Molly's rein. The next moment she would have spurred the pinto up the hill; but a drawling voice within a yard of her spoke. "How-do, Frances? 'Light, won't yer?" and there followed Ratty M'Gill's well-known laugh. "We didn't expect ye; but ye're welcome just the same." Ratty's hand was on Molly's bridle-rein. Frances knew that she was a prisoner. CHAPTER XXII WHAT PRATT THOUGHT The party of visitors to the Edwards ranch tired of jack-shooting and jack-running before noon. José Reposa had cached a huge hamper of lunch which the Bar-T cook had put up, and he softly suggested to Mrs. Edwards that the company be called together and luncheon made ready, with hot coffee for all. "But where's Pratt?" cried somebody. "And Miss Rugley?" asked another. "Oh, I guess you'll find them together somewhere," snapped Sue Latrop. She had felt neglected by her "hero" for the last hour, and was in the sulks, accordingly. Pratt, however, came in alone. He had bagged several jacks. Altogether Silent Sam and the Mexican had destroyed more than a score of the pests, and the dogs had torn to pieces two or three beside. The canines were satiated with the meat, and were glad to lie down, panting, and watch the preparations for luncheon. "I have not seen Miss Frances since she caught the antelope," Pratt declared. Sue began to laugh--but it wasn't a nice laugh at all. "Guess she got mad and went home. You, letting that animal go the way you did! I never heard of such a foolish thing!" Pratt said nothing. He sat down on the other side of the fire from the girl from Boston. He took it for granted that Frances _had_ gone home. For, remembering as he did, that Frances was a range girl, and had lived out-of-doors and undoubtedly among rough men, a good part of her life, the young fellow thought that, very probably, Frances had been utterly disgusted with him when he showed so much tenderness for the innocent little antelope.