"I'm sorry to have to edge in on your plans, sissy," the fellow returned, familiarly, "but nobody goes away from this ranch for some little time to come. That's the boss's orders. Don't you know them rustlers is shootin' up the country ever' which way all around here? Shucks! It ain't safe for no lady to go skylarkin' around in." "They wouldn't hurt me--they know there's a regiment of cavalry at the post standing up for me." "I don't reckon them rustlers cares much more about them troopers than we do, sis." "Will you please open the gate?" "I hate to refuse a lady, but I dasn't do it." He shook his head in exaggerated gravity, and his companion covered a sputtering laugh with his hand. Frances felt her resolution to keep her temper dissolving. She shifted her quirt as the quick desire to strike him down and ride over his ugly grinning face flashed through her. But the wooden stock was light under the braided leather; she knew that she could not have knocked a grunt out of the tough rascal who barred her way with his insolent leer in his mean squint eyes. He was a man who had nothing to lose, therefore nothing to fear. "If it's dangerous for me to go alone, get your horse and come with me. I'll see that you get more out of it than you make working for Chadron." The fellow squinted up at her with eyes half-shut, in an expression of cunning. "Now you trot along back and behave you'self, before I have to take you down and spank you," he said. The other three men of the ranch guard came waddling up in that slouching gait of saddle-men, cigarettes dangling from their lips. Frances saw that she would not be allowed to pass that way. But they were all at that spot; none of them could be watching the back gate. She wheeled her long-legged cavalry horse to make a dash for it, and came face to face with Mrs. Chadron, who was hurrying from the house with excited gesticulations, pointing up the road. "Somebody's comin', it looks like one of the boys, I saw him from the upstairs winder!" she announced, "Where was you goin', honey?" "I was starting home, Mrs. Chadron, but these men--" "There he comes!" cried Mrs. Chadron, hastening to the gate. A horseman had come around the last brush-screened turn of the road, and was drawing near. Frances felt her heart leap like a hare, and a delicious feeling of triumph mingle with the great pride that swept through her in a warm flood. Tears were in her eyes, half-blinding her; a sob of gladness rose in her breast and burst forth a little happy cry. For that was Alan Macdonald coming forward on his weary horse, bearing something in his arms wrapped in a blanket, out of which a shower of long hair fell in bright cascade over his arm.