“Nor ye ain’t one of them chicken lifters that raided Henderson’s ranch?  We don’t go much on that kind o’ cattle yer.”

“No,” said Lance, cheerfully.

“Nor ye ain’t that chap ez beat his wife unto death at Santa Clara?”

Lance honestly scorned the imputation.  Such conjugal ill treatment as he had indulged in had not been physical, and had been with other men’s wives.

There was a moment’s further hesitation on the part of the girl.  Then she said shortly: 

“Well, then, I reckon you kin come along with me.”

“Where?” asked Lance.

“To the ranch,” she replied simply.

“Then you won’t bring me anything to eat here?”

“What for?  You kin get it down there.”  Lance hesitated.  “I tell you it’s all right,” she continued.  “I’ll make it all right with Dad.”

“But suppose I reckon I’d rather stay here,” persisted Lance, with a perfect consciousness, however, of affectation in his caution.

“Stay away then,” said the girl coolly; “only as Dad perempted this yer woods”—­

“Pre-empted,” suggested Lance.

“Per-empted or pre-emp-ted, as you like,” continued the girl scornfully,—­“ez he’s got a holt on this yer woods, ye might ez well see him down thar ez here.  For here he’s like to come any minit.  You can bet your life on that.”

She must have read Lance’s amusement in his eyes, for she again dropped her own with a frown of brusque embarrassment.  “Come along, then; I’m your man,” said Lance, gayly, extending his hand.

She would not accept it, eying it, however, furtively, like a horse about to shy.  “Hand me your pistol first,” she said.

He handed it to her with an assumption of gayety.  She received it on her part with unfeigned seriousness, and threw it over her shoulder like a gun.  This combined action of the child and heroine, it is quite unnecessary to say, afforded Lance undiluted joy.

“You go first,” she said.

Lance stepped promptly out, with a broad grin.  “Looks kinder as if I was a pris’ner, don’t it?” he suggested.

“Go on, and don’t fool,” she replied.

The two fared onward through the wood.  For one moment he entertained the facetious idea of appearing to rush frantically away, “just to see what the girl would do,” but abandoned it.  “It’s an even thing if she wouldn’t spot me the first pop,” he reflected admiringly.

When they had reached the open hillside, Lance stopped inquiringly.  “This way,” she said, pointing toward the summit, and in quite an opposite direction to the valley where he had heard the voices, one of which he now recognized as hers.  They skirted the thicket for a few moments, and then turned sharply into a trail which began to dip toward a ravine leading to the valley.

“Why do you have to go all the way round?” he asked.

“We don’t,” the girl replied with emphasis; “there’s a shorter cut.”