The Trail of the Lonesome Pine
"Fine!" was the nonchalant answer. For a moment there was silence and a puzzled frown gathered on the mountaineer's face.
"That's a bright little girl of yours--What did she mean by telling you not to hurt me?"
"You haven't been long in these mountains, have ye?"
"No--not in THESE mountains--why?" The fisherman looked around and was almost startled by the fierce gaze of his questioner.
"Stop that, please," he said, with a humourous smile. "You make me nervous."
The mountaineer's bushy brows came together across the bridge of his nose and his voice rumbled like distant thunder.
"What's yo' name, stranger, an' what's yo' business over hyeh?"
"Dear me, there you go! You can see I'm fishing, but why does everybody in these mountains want to know my name?"
"You heerd me!"
"Yes." The fisherman turned again and saw the giant's rugged face stern and pale with open anger now, and he, too, grew suddenly serious.