"Oh, air YOU the engineer?"

The fisherman was angry now. He had not moved hand or foot and he
said nothing, but his mouth was set hard and his bewildered blue
eyes had a glint in them that the mountaineer did not at the
moment see. He was leaning with one arm on the muzzle of his
Winchester, his face had suddenly become suave and shrewd and now
he laughed again:

"So you're Jack Hale, air ye?"

The fisherman spoke. "JOHN Hale, except to my friends." He looked
hard at the old man.

"Do you know that's a pretty dangerous joke of yours, my friend--I
might have a gun myself sometimes. Did you think you could scare
me?" The mountaineer stared in genuine surprise.

"Twusn't no joke," he said shortly. "An' I don't waste time
skeering folks. I reckon you don't know who I be?"

"I don't care who you are." Again the mountaineer stared.

"No use gittin' mad, young feller," he said coolly. "I mistaken ye
fer somebody else an' I axe yer pardon. When you git through
fishin' come up to the house right up the creek thar an' I'll give
ye a dram."

"Thank you," said the fisherman stiffly, and the mountaineer
turned silently away. At the edge of the bushes, he looked back;