“My name’s Pierce,” went on the timid man. “Dan Pierce. What’s yours?”
“Oh, daddy!” exclaimed the girl. “Perhaps the young gentleman doesn’t want to tell his name.”
“Why shouldn’t he?” asked Mr. Pierce quickly. “Every one ought to be proud of his name. I’m proud of mine. Dan Pierce it is. I’m an old Western hunter, and this is my daughter Mabel. We’ve been East on a visit, and we’re going back. I’m glad of it, too. What’s your name?” he went on.
“Father,” expostulated the girl, “perhaps he doesn’t wish to tell.”
“Oh, I haven’t the least objection,” answered our hero. “I’m Jack Ranger, and these are some friends of mine.”
“I’d like to know ’em,” said Mr. Pierce quickly, and Jack introduced the boys, the old hunter, in turn, presenting his daughter Mabel, who blushed more than ever. But Jack thought her ever so much prettier when the color surged up into her brown, olive-tinted cheeks.
“Going far?” asked Mr. Pierce.
“We’re taking a hunting trip to the Shoshone Mountains,” replied Jack.
“You don’t say so? Why, that’s where I lived and hunted for forty years!” exclaimed Mr. Pierce. “That’s where me and my daughter live. About ten miles from Pryor’s Gap. But my hunting days are over,” he said a bit sadly. “I have to settle down now and live in a house with Mabel here.”
Jack thought that was not at all a bad arrangement, and he stole a glance at the girl. He caught her looking at him, and he felt the blood mounting to his face, while he saw the blush spread again over her cheeks.