The next minute the girl was romping with her dog Rover, and calling him endearing names. A tear glistened on the ranch owner’s cheek as he silently wrung Mason’s hand when Josephine told of his part in her rescue.
That night when Bud and his men returned, they reported that they could find no trace of the halfbreed. They believed that the Mexican with his wide knowledge of the mountains had probably escaped to some retreat.
A few days of rest and quiet were indulged in by the men who had followed the trail of the outlaws so determinedly.
One fine morning, Mason, who had found a shady spot on the porch and had lazily stretched himself out for a nap, found his plans rudely shattered by the mistress of the ranch herself. She came running out of the house and stood surveying him with an air of severity.
“I would like to know, Sir Jack, if you are in the habit of breaking your promises,” she demanded, trying to keep her look of severity while pointing an accusing finger at him.
Mason looked up at her in astonishment. “Why, Josephine, I don’t know what you are driving at,” he answered with a blank look. He thought he had never seen her look as pretty as she did this morning. She stood before him, her eyes fairly dancing with fun.
“Then, Sir, I will refresh your memory,” she began with increasing severity. “Did you or did you not promise me long, long ago to take me for a ride in that fast racing car of yours?”
Mason sprang to his feet.
“What a dunce I’ve been, Josephine,” he exclaimed. “We’ll go for a ride this very morning. What do you say?”
“I’ll say, I’ll go,” she answered with a happy laugh and ran to tell her mother.