"I'd like to see 'em before—daylight."
With a delighted laugh Gordon turned away to the door and flung it open.
"Say," he called, "Hazel! Ho! Mr. Mallinsbee!"
In a moment Hazel had darted to her lover's side, and was followed more decorously by the burly rancher, with his patch well down over one eye. Gordon pointed at it.
"Guess you can do without that, Mr. Mallinsbee. You're not going to face an opponent; you're going to meet a—friend."
He slid his arm about the girl's waist and drew her gently forward towards his father standing waiting to receive her with humorously twinkling eyes.
He Drew Her Gently Towards His Father
"So you're to be my little daughter," cried the millionaire kindly. "Well, my dear, I'm glad. I like grit, and you've got it plenty. I like a pretty face, and—but I guess Gordon's told you all about that. Seeing you're to be my daughter—and Gordon's left me no choice in the matter, the same as he left me no choice in other things—I feel I've the right to tell you you're a pair of—as impertinent young rascals as I've ever had the happiness to claim relationship with. Let me see, just come here, and—Gordon owes me for many nights of anxiety, and I guess I've a right to make him pay. I'll be satisfied with the payment of a kiss from you."