place in the Winchester and a guttural oath from the mountaineer's
beard.

"Damn ye," he said hoarsely, raising the rifle. "I'll give ye--"

"Don't, Dad!" shrieked a voice from the bushes. "I know his name, hit's
Jack--" the rest of the name was unintelligible. The mountaineer dropped
the butt of his gun to the ground and laughed.

[Illustration: "Don't, Dad!" shrieked a voice from the bushes, 0034]

"Oh, air YOU the engineer?"

The fisherman was angry now. He had not moved hand or foot and he said
nothing, but his mouth was set hard and his bewildered blue eyes had
a glint in them that the mountaineer did not at the moment see. He
was leaning with one arm on the muzzle of his Winchester, his face had
suddenly become suave and shrewd and now he laughed again:

"So you're Jack Hale, air ye?"

The fisherman spoke. "JOHN Hale, except to my friends." He looked hard
at the old man.

"Do you know that's a pretty dangerous joke of yours, my friend--I might
have a gun myself sometimes. Did you think you could scare me?" The
mountaineer stared in genuine surprise.

"Twusn't no joke," he said shortly. "An' I don't waste time skeering
folks. I reckon you don't know who I be?"

"I don't care who you are." Again the mountaineer stared.

"No use gittin' mad, young feller," he said coolly. "I mistaken ye fer
somebody else an' I axe yer pardon. When you git through fishin' come up
to the house right up the creek thar an' I'll give ye a dram."

"Thank you," said the fisherman stiffly, and the mountaineer turned
silently away. At the edge of the bushes, he looked back; the stranger
was still fishing, and the old man went on with a shake of his head.

"He'll come," he said to himself. "Oh, he'll come!"

That very point Hale was debating with himself as he unavailingly cast
his minnow into the swift water and slowly wound it in again. How did
that old man know his name? And would the old savage really have hurt
him had he not found out who he was? The little girl was a wonder:
evidently she had muffled his last name on purpose--not knowing it
herself--and it was a quick and cunning ruse. He owed her something for
that--why did she try to protect him? Wonderful eyes, too, the little
thing had--deep and dark--and how the flame did dart from them when she
got angry! He smiled, remembering--he liked that. And her hair--it was
exactly like the gold-bronze on the wing of a wild turkey that he had
shot the day before. Well, it wa