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Frances of the Ranges The Old Ranchman's Treasure   By:

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[Illustration: FRANCES PULLED BACK ON MOLLY'S BRIDLE REINS. Frontispiece (Page 125).]

FRANCES OF THE RANGES

OR

THE OLD RANCHMAN'S TREASURE

BY

AMY BELL MARLOWE

AUTHOR OF

THE OLDEST OF FOUR, THE GIRLS OF HILLCREST FARM, WYN'S CAMPING DAYS, ETC.

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America

Copyright, 1915, by

GROSSET & DUNLAP

Frances of the Ranges

CONTENTS

Chapter Page I. THE ADVENTURE IN THE COULIE 1 II. "FRANCES OF THE RANGES" 11 III. THE OLD SPANISH CHEST 19 IV. WHAT HAPPENED IN THE NIGHT 34 V. THE SHADOW IN THE COURT 41 VI. A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION 49 VII. THE STAMPEDE 57 VIII. IN PERIL AND OUT 65 IX. SURPRISING NEWS 75 X. THE MAN FROM BYLITTLE 87 XI. FRANCES ACTS 98 XII. MOLLY 109 XIII. THE GIRL FROM BOSTON 115 XIV. THE CONTRAST 125 XV. IN THE FACE OF DANGER 131 XVI. A FRIEND INSISTENT 140 XVII. AN ACCIDENT 151 XVIII. THE WAVE OF FLAME 160 XIX. MOST ASTONISHING! 171 XX. THE BOSTON GIRL AGAIN 182 XXI. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 192 XXII. WHAT PRATT THOUGHT 204 XXIII. A GAME OF PUSS IN THE CORNER 212 XXIV. A GOOD DEAL OF EXCITEMENT 223 XXV. A PLOT THAT FAILED 229 XXVI. FRANCES IN SOFTER MOOD 242 XXVII. A DINNER DANCE IN PROSPECT 253 XXVIII. THE BURSTING OF THE CHRYSALIS 271 XXIX. "THE PANHANDLE PAST AND PRESENT" 283 XXX. A REUNION 295

FRANCES OF THE RANGES

CHAPTER I

THE ADVENTURE IN THE COULIE

The report of a bird gun made the single rider in sight upon the short grassed plain pull in her pinto and gaze westerly toward the setting sun, now going down in a field of golden glory.

The pinto stood like a statue, and its rider seemed a part of the steed, so well did she sit in her saddle. She gazed steadily under her hand gazed and listened.

Finally, she murmured: "That's the snarl of a lion sure. Get up, Molly!"

The pinto sprang forward. There was a deep coulie ahead, with a low range of grass covered hills beyond. Through those hills the lions often came down onto the grazing plains. It was behind these hills that the sun was going down, for the hour was early.

As she rode, the girl loosened the gun she carried in the holster slung at her hip. On her saddle horn was coiled a hair rope.

She was dressed in olive green her blouse, open at the throat, divided skirts, leggings, and broad brimmed hat of one hue. Two thick plaits of sunburned brown hair hung over her shoulders, and to her waist. Her grey eyes were keen and rather solemn. Although the girl on the pinto could not have been far from sixteen, her face seemed to express a serious mind.

The scream of that bane of the cattlemen the mountain lion rang out from the coulie again. The girl clapped her tiny spurs against the pinto's flanks, and that little animal doubled her pace. In a minute they were at the head of the slope and the girl could see down into the coulie, where low mesquite shrubs masked the bottom and the little spring that bubbled there... Continue reading book >>




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