"Have you got a father?" Like a flash, her whole face changed.
"I reckon I have."
"Where is he?"
"Hyeh he is!" drawled a voice from the bushes, and it had a tone
that made the fisherman whirl suddenly. A giant mountaineer stood
on the bank above him, with a Winchester in the hollow of his arm.
"How are you?" The giant's heavy eyes lifted quickly, but he spoke
to the girl.
"You go on home--what you doin' hyeh gassin' with furriners!"
The girl shrank to the bushes, but she cried sharply back:
"Don't you hurt him now, Dad. He ain't even got a pistol. He ain't
no--"
"Shet up!" The little creature vanished and the mountaineer turned
to the fisherman, who had just put on a fresh minnow and tossed it
into the river.
"Purty well, thank you," he said shortly. "How are you?"
"Fine!" was the nonchalant answer. For a moment there was silence
and a puzzled frown gathered on the mountaineer's face.
"That's a bright little girl of yours--What did she mean by
telling you not to hurt me?"
"You haven't been long in these mountains, have ye?"
"No--not in THESE mountains--why?" The fisherman looked around and
was almost startled by the fierce gaze of his questioner.
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