Marlowe Amy Bell - Frances of the Ranges: or, The Old Ranchman's Treasure стр 5.

She and her guest were talking about the forthcoming pageant at the Jackleg schoolhouse. Pratt had begun to feel enthusiastic over it as he learned more of the particulars.

People scarcely realize, said Frances, that this Panhandle of ours has a history as ancient as St. Augustine, Florida. And that, you know, is called the oldest white settlement in these United States.

Long, long ago the Spanish explorers, with Indian guides whom they had enslaved, made a path through the swarming buffaloes up this way and called the country Llano Estacada, the staked plain. Our geographers misapplied the name Desert to this vast country; but Nebraska, Kansas, and Oklahoma threw off that designation because it was proven that the rains fell more often than was reported.

What has built up those states, said Pratt, with a smile, is farming, not cattle.

The Captain grunted, for he had been listening to the conversation.

You ought to have seen those first hayseeds that tried to turn the ranges into posy beds and wheat fields, he chuckled. They got all that was coming to thembelieve me!

Frances laughed. Daddy is still unconverted. He does not believe that the Panhandle is fit for anything but cattle. But hes going to let me have two hundred acres to plow and sow to wheathes promised.

The Captain grunted again.

And last year we grew a hundred acres of milo maize and feterita. Helped on the winter feeddidnt it, Daddy? and she laughed.

Got me there, Francesgot me there, admitted the old ranchman. But I dont hope to live long enough to see the Bar-T raising more wheat than steers.

No. Its stock-raising we want to follow, I believe, said the girl, calmly. We must raise feed for our steers, fatten them in fenced pastures, and ship them more quickly.

My goodness! exclaimed Pratt, admiringly, you talk as though you understood all about it, Miss Frances.

I think I do know something about the new conditions that face us ranchers of the Panhandle, the girl said, quietly. And why shouldnt I? I have been hearing it talked about, and thinking of it myself, ever since I can remember.

Secretly Pratt thought she must have given her attention to something beside the ranch work and cattle-raising. Of this he was assured when they went inside later, and Frances sat down to the piano. The instrument was in a big room with a bare, polished floor. It was evidently used for dancing. There was a talking machine as well as a piano. The girl played the latter very nicely indeed. There were a few scratches on the floor of the room, and she saw Pratt looking at them.

I told Ratty MGill he shouldnt come in here with the rest of the boys to dance if he didnt take his spurs off, she said. We have an old-time hoe-down for the boys pretty nearly every week, when were not too rushed on the ranch. It keeps em better contented and away from the towns on pay-days.

Are the cowpunchers just the same as they used to be? asked Pratt. Do they go to town and blow it wide open on pay-nights?

Not much. We have a good sheriff. But it wasnt so long ago that your fancy little city of Amarillo was nothing but a cattlemans town. Im going to have a representation of old Amarillo in our pageantyoull see. It will be true to life, too, for some of the very people who take part in our play lived in Amarillo at the time when the sight of a high hat would draw a fusillade of bullets from the door of every saloon and dance-hall.

Dont! gasped Pratt. Was Amarillo ever like that?

And not twenty years ago, laughed Frances. It had a few hundred inhabitantsand most of them ruffians. Now it claims ten thousand, has bricked streets that used to be cow trails, electric lights, a street-car service, and all the comforts and culture of an effete East.

Pratt laughed, too. Its a mighty comfortable place to live inbeside Bill Edwards ranch, for instance. But I notice here at the Bar-T you have a great many of the despised Eastern luxuries.

Do-funnies daddy calls them, said Frances, smiling. Ah! here he is.

The old ranchman came in, the holstered pistol still slung at his hip.

All secure for the night, Daddy? she asked, looking at him tenderly.

Locked, barred, and bolted, returned her father. I tell you, Pratt, were something of a fort here when we go to bed. The courts free to you; but dont try to get out till Ming opens up in the morning. You see, were some distance from the bunk-house, and nobody but the two Chinks are here with us now.

I see, sir, said Pratt.

But he did not see; he wondered. And he wondered more when, after separating from Frances for the night, he found his way through the hall to the door of the room that had been assigned to him for his use.

On the other side of the hall was another door, open more than a crack, with a light shining behind it. Pratts curiosity got the better of him and he peeped.

Captain Dan Rugley was standing in the middle of the almost bare room, before an old dark, Spanish chest. He had a bunch of keys in one hand and in the other dangled the ancient girdle and the bracelet Frances had worn.

That must be the treasure chest she spoke of, thought the youth. And it looks it! Old, old, wrought-iron work trimmings of Spanish design. What a huge old lock! My! it would take a stick of dynamite to blow that thing open if one hadnt the key.

The Captain moved quickly, turning toward the door. Pratt dodged backthen crept silently away, down the hall. He did not know that the eye of the old ranchman watched him keenly through the crack of the door.

CHAPTER IV

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE NIGHT

Frances looked through her barred window, out over the fenced yard, and down to the few twinkling watch-lights at the mens quarters. All the second-story windows of the ranch-house, overlooking the porch roof, were barred with iron rods set in the cement, like those on the first floor. The Bar-T ranch-house was a veritable fort.

There was a reason for this that the girl did not entirely understand, although her father often hinted at it. His stories of his adventures as a Texas Ranger, and over the Border into Mexico, amused her; but they had not impressed her much. Perhaps, because the Captain always skimmed over the particulars of those desperate adventures which had so spiced his early yearsthose years before the gentle influence of Frances mother came into his life.

He had mentioned his partner, Lon, on this evening. But he seldom particularized about him.

Frances could not remember when her father had gone into Arizona and returned from thence with a wagon-train loaded with many of the most beautiful of their household possessions. It was when she was a very little girl.

With the other things, Captain Rugley had brought back the old Spanish chest which he guarded so anxiously. She did not know what was in the chestnot all its treasures. It was the one secret her father kept from her.

Out of it he brought certain barbarous ornaments that he allowed her to wear now and then. She was as much enamored of jewelry and beautiful adornments as other girls, was Frances of the ranges.

There was perfect trust between her father and herself; but not perfect confidence. No more than Pratt Sanderson, for instance, did she know just how the old ranchman had become possessed of the great store of Indian and Spanish ornaments, or of the old Spanish chest.