altogether your fault; it's
just that you don't know any better. You're just a plumb ignorant
critter out here, Mister Professor, an' by rights you oughtn't to be
around loose.

"An' you tried to threaten a boy here who was doin' his duty by sayin'
that you'd write to Washington. What for? Are you so proud o' thievin'
an' bullyin' that you want every one to know, or do you want to tell
only a part o' the story so as you'll look all right an' the other
fellow all wrong. That breed o' Social Economy don't go, not out here.
We calls it lyin', an' pretty mean lyin' at that."

He broke off suddenly and looked down with a smile.

"Well, Pussy," he said, "that's right. You come an' back me up," and
reaching out his brown gnarled hand he drew to his side the little girl
who had come trustingly forward to him as all children did, and now had
slipped her little hand into his.

"An' then there's this question o' fire," he continued. "Haven't you got
some fireworks for the Fourth, Pussy?" he said, looking down at his
little companion.

"Oh, yeth," she lisped, "pin-wheelth, and crackerth, and thnaketh, and
heapth of thingth."

"What a time we'll have," he said. "Shall we look at them now?"

"Oh, yeth," the little girl replied, and ran across to her father, "can
we thee them now?"

"No, not now," the father replied.

The old Ranger called the "guide" by name.

"Miguel," he said, "the fireworks are wanted to-night. Bring 'em to me."

The professor protested, but a glance at the sinewy frame of the
mountaineer decided Miguel, and he brought several packages. In order to
please the little girl, Rifle-Eye lent her his huge pocket-knife and let
her open the packages, sharing the surprises with her. Some of them he
put aside, especially the rockets, but by far the larger number he let
the child make up into a pile.

"Will you give me your word you won't set off these?" queried the
mountaineer, pointing to the smaller pile of dangerous explosives with
his foot.

"I'll say nothing," said the professor.

Without another word the Ranger stooped down, picked them up in one big
armful, and disappeared beyond the circle of the light of the campfire
into the darkness. He reappeared in a few minutes.

"I'm afeard," he said, "your fireworks may be a little wet. I tied 'em
in a bundle, fastened a stone to 'em, an' then dropped 'em in that
little lake. You can't do any harm with those you've got now." He waited
a moment. "You can