Mason took to him on the instant, for all of his bluff ways.
“Jack, come into the house; no, wait a minute and I’ll make you acquainted with my daughter. Josephine,” he called in a stentorian voice.
“Yes, coming, Daddy,” came the answer in bell-like tones. Suddenly the girl appeared at the door. Mason gave a start of surprise. When he first saw her on the porch with her father she was dressed in riding habit, but now she wore a dress of some fluffy creation such as the girls of his acquaintance wore back East. It was a delicate shade of blue and matched her hair which was a golden brown. Her eyes were of a grayish blue.
Taken by surprise, he could only stammer through the introduction which her father made. The girl was quick to see his distress and said:
“Daddy, you show Mr. Mason to his room while mother and I see about supper.”
“You must be about famished,” she added, turning to Mason with an arch smile.
He had recovered his composure to some extent by this time, saying, “I am somewhat hungry, Miss Walters, and accept your invitation to supper with pleasure.”
The girl hastily withdrew to help her mother in the kitchen.
“She’s a thoroughbred,” declared her father, gazing after her fondly.
While being conducted to his room, Mason attempted to show Mr. Walters the letter of introduction which his father had given him, but the ranch owner wouldn’t consider it.
“Guess I know your father well enough to recognize his son.”
After a wash and a change of clothes, Mason felt refreshed. Making his way downstairs he was presented to Mrs. Walters. It was a merry party that gathered around the supper table. Red, having been invited, told some stories with such droll wit that he kept Mason laughing throughout the meal. The girl was an interested listener and occasionally put in a word. She appeared anxious to make the Easterner feel at home. After supper the party sat on the porch while the ranch owner entertained his guest with tales of life on the range.
A little later the ranch owner excused himself, saying he was getting old and must retire early to bed. The girl coaxed her mother to remain up a little longer and soon the three were talking on general subjects. The open-hearted hospitality of these Western people was pleasing to Mason, and that night after retiring to his room, he confessed to himself that he was beginning to look upon his new career with growing favor.
The next morning he awoke to find the sun streaming in his window, and hearing sounds of activity below, he dressed hastily. Going downstairs he was greeted with a cheery good morning from Mrs. Walters who was busily preparing the morning meal.
“Breakfast will be ready in about half an hour, and you can look around a bit if you wish,” she announced.
“Josephine is outdoors somewhere,” she added.
Mason nodded pleasantly and started for a walk to the corral. As he turned the corner of the house he came across a sight that filled him with amusement. It was the girl; she was romping with a great St. Bernard dog.
Quickening his pace, he soon came up to her.
“Good morning, Miss Walters,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
The girl looked up quickly, exclaiming,
“Oh, it’s you, Sir New Yorker. Well, I wish to make a bargain with you. You may call me Josephine and I’ll call you Jack.”
“That goes,” he agreed, falling in with her humor.
The girl was fondling her dog again and Mason murmured softly,
“Love me, love my dog.”
“What did you say?” the girl asked, looking up brightly.
He smiled and shook his head.
“Well, it was something about a dog,” she declared.
“You must be great friends with my dog. His name is Rover. Shake hands with the gentleman, Rover.”
The dog offered a huge paw, which Mason shook in solemn friendship.
“There,” declared the girl gaily, “you now have a friend for life.”
“What I would like to know,” he questioned, “is where all the cowboys keep themselves?”
“Oh,” the girl answered. “I supposed that Red or Scotty had shown you the bunk-house. It is that building you see just beyond the corral. All the boys sleep there. Come, let’s go in to breakfast.”
After the meal the girl motioned for Mason to follow her. When they were outside she said:
“Daddy is down to the bunk-house. I have ordered Scotty to saddle Fleet and a horse for you; then we are going to see Dad, and I’ll have him introduce you to the boys.”
“Did you beat Scotty in yesterday?” he asked.
“Did I?” Josephine tossed her head proudly. “Outside of Bud Anderson’s horse, there isn’t one on the range that can overtake Fleet.”
“Who is Bud Anderson?” he queried, getting interested.
“Why, didn’t you know?” she asked in surprise. “Bud Anderson! he’s the foreman of our ranch, and Sheriff of this County. He taught me how to shoot and ride. I have known him ever since I can remember.”
“I do remember of Red telling about a foreman and Sheriff but he didn’t mention his name,” he answered vaguely.
“Here comes Scotty with our horses,” the girl cried, clapping her hands with glee.
Mason was a little stiff from being in the saddle the day before.
“I’m afraid I’ll prove a poor rider if I have to keep up with you, Miss Josephine,” he said dismally.
The girl gave him a swift look.
“We are going to have a nice little ride and I am going to teach you how to ride fast and shoot,” she declared with fine assurance.
Mason noticed for the first time that she carried in her belt a small Colt’s revolver. Scotty had come up with the horses and after greeting him they mounted and rode slowly to the bunk-house.
“Some of the boys are riding the range, Jack,” she explained as they dismounted at the door.
Putting a whistle to her lips she blew a long shrill note.
“Coming,” called a voice from within.
The door flew open and the ranch owner appeared.
“Daddy,” the girl began before he could speak, “I would like you to make Jack acquainted with the boys.”
“Jack, eh,” he said with a grin, winking at Mason.
The girl blushed and glanced reprovingly at her father.
The ranch owner stepped inside and called briskly,
“Tumble out here, boys, I want to make you acquainted with a friend of mine from New York.”
The men were soon lined up, and the ranch owner starting with the largest one of the lot, said, “Jack, this is my assistant foreman, Joe Turner.”
Then he named them in turn. Mason shook hands heartily with them all, but when he came to Carlo and Powers he took an instant dislike to them. Carlo had squinting eyes and his hand had a cold snaky feeling. Mason drew back in disgust and could hardly repress a shiver down his back.
The girl broke the tension by saying,
“Daddy, Jack and I are going to take a little ride.”